Andouilette. That was the plat du jour at Pascalines in Rouen today, recommended by Lonely Planet. We went out on a limb and muddled our way through the order with the waiter, and thought how bad could it be? Awesome little mystery package of delicious french food for the hungry travellers. HA! At first I thought it was a sausage but when cut into all the bits - the only way I can describe them - they fell out. And the smell, which kept wafting get up from the plate to assault my nostrils. I could not eat it. Russ, not one to waste to a dollar - he'd absolutely agree - chewed through his mostly because it wasn't until the end of the meal that I found the description of what he was eating in the menu decoder of the phrase book - PIGS INTESTINES. (and then he wished I hadn't told him :0) To be perfectly honest at first i seriously thought it was some awful joke being played by the chef to 'punish the English swine' (nobody really cares that we're from novelle zoolond) I really thought this chef hates us, whoever he is, and yes, I was getting a mite distressed that someone might be serving me a dish kept only for 'special' English speaking customers. But no people, it was on the menu. So after a good laugh once safely outside the restaurant and making no eye contact and some sort of feeble attempt at an apology to the waiter for not touching my andouillette, I dragged Russ back to the boulangerie and patisserie for a tarte du frais (strawberry tart).
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