I'm in Monaco, basically France. Most people think the French make amazing food. Well, this week I've learned differently. Let's face it, I'm living in a bit of a touristy part of the world where you can find the tourist trap restaurants that make boring food just as much as the nice restaurants who make super food.
But, who messes up eggs???? And badly I must say.
So, the story goes...
Day One: Tuesday
I went to a nice French Bistro called Bouchon on Tuesday morning across from the Grimaldi Forum while the kids did an art workshop based on the Picasso exhibition there. I asked for eggs, with runny yellows. (They had eggs on the menu so I didn't just order something out of the ordinary.) I waited about fifteen minutes and was presented with a plate holding two hard boiled eggs in stands and some strips of sour dough bread. Ok, I didn't specify fried eggs, and I'm ok with soft boiled so I didn't say anything. I grabbed the egg, hmmm...it's cold, then proceeded to pop the top off and found it to be raw. They served me two cold raw eggs right out of the fridge. Now, I was a server in restaurants for waaaayyyyy longer that I care to say and know that things can get messed up and confusion happens, so I'm ok with mistakes. I alerted the waiter and he took them back for a re-do.
Second plate is set before me and I crack into the egg. Cooked this time, so far so good, but ooppps, it's HARD boiled. I'm not a complainer, but I did want runny yellows even if it was a boiled egg. So, once again I wave down my guy and he takes the plate back again. Now, I do want to say that my waiter was very nice and not the typical rude French waiter you're probably picturing. Now ten minutes later the plate returns.... third time was a charm. Whewww!
Day Two: Thursday
I returned to the little Bistro thinking the same problem couldn't possibly happen again. I mean it eggs for Christ's sake. I sat down and my new waiter came over. I asked again for two eggs, but made sure I said cracked and cooked in a pan with runny yellows. He sort of got my drift and I hoped for the better. Fifteen minutes later I was presented with a plate holding a bronze skillet holding two fried eggs with 3/4 runny yellows. Well done. At least from first sight. But before the waiter left he did tell me that he was sorry it took so long, the first try wasn't right so they made them again. What? Who's in that kitchen? It's just two fried eggs for goodness sake. And they DO have them on the menu so one would presume someone knows how to make them. Anyway, I'm rambling. So, I get to work on eating my eggs and find that they have been seared right onto the skillet so I can really only eat the 2/3rds that I can peel off it. They didn't use any oil or butter (which I thought they were pretty famous for). Ah well. I wish there was a West Egg Cafe here.
Day Three: Friday
J advised me to steer clear of the eggs, so I braved the tartine order. Since I'm sure they don't bake their own baguets I figured I was safe. I was. Except, the last two days my cafe latte came in a normal coffee cup and this time is came in a tall glass with straws. Who drinks a hot drink through a straw???
Well, I guess the moral is. When in France, or Monaco, don't order the eggs.
At least not at Bouchon. :)
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