Gaillac<\/a>, a red wine aged up to five years from southwest France. It ‘s one of the oldest wine-producing areas of France, established since Roman times.<\/p>\nI ordered a dish with snails, since I figured I was in France, and hadn’t had snails in years. My appetizer was served in the shape of a tower, about an inch and half in diameter, with four layers in stunning greens, yellow, orange and brown, which I assumed were snails. I did\u00a0not<\/strong> taste the\u00a0escargots<\/em>, though I did taste the various flavors of spring peas and carrots. Delicious, and fortunately, not filling.<\/p>\nNext, a couple of ounces of cod cooked in hazelnut oil with a decorative trail of pureed peas with tiny bits of ham and baby peas. Although presented with style, there was one thing that bothered me: the sauce. It was translucent and bubbly and did not taste like anything I recognized. The fresh peas were sweet and tender plucked a few minutes before, from a nearby garden, or so it seemed.<\/p>\n
Everyone else ordered the veal, which was delicate and served pink, however, after the waiter explained that the calf was still suckling, I could not get the image out of my head. I guess I’ve lived in the U.S. for too long.<\/p>\n
I could not resist the cart with at least twenty varieties of cheeses. I tried several unpasteurized goat cheeses, something I cannot find in Orange County. I enjoy pungent cheeses over mild cheddars and Monterey Jacks.<\/p>\n
Dessert was the most rewarding, both in deliciousness and artistry: \u00a0imagine a ribbon of caramel gracefully topping a burst of \u00a0lemon meringue surrounded by succulent strawberries with lemon cream, and punctuated with a scoop of lemon, ginger sorbet.<\/p>\n