I tend to be an adventurous eater. Usually with good results. Not always. (Forty years later, I still retain the unpleasant memory of the waiter’s bringing what looked like a section of bicycle tire covered in an unappealing heavy brown sauce to my table on the French Riviera. Yes, it was “seafood” as I had asked when I pointed to the unfamiliar word on the menu, but not what I had in mind. And now, no matter where I’m headed, I always make sure to know how to say and how to avoid “eel” in whatever language I might encounter it.) Seen here, a much more pleasant experience. Roasted beef marrow, served in the bone with a sprinkling of salt, some toasts for spreading and a parsley-and-caper salad at Les Zygomates in Boston.
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