Proof is in the Pudding

I was in Paris last week and was urged by two French friends to try the gallette (apparently quite a celebrated regional specialty in Brittany) for lunch at the local creperie after being corrected that it is actually a meal and not a dessert.

I arrived on my own at the creperie with excitement for the adventure. I politely asked the waitress to recommend the signature dish of the “house”. She suggested “Boudin Noir” after dutifully counter-checked with her colleague. My dish with 8 pieces of “black sausage” arrived in 10 minutes and I sank my teeth (literally) into it with tremendous enthusiasm. To my surprise, the texture of the sausage was not what I had expected. I took a deep breath and told my very good self that I needed to finish it with a very open mind. And I did it with such courage and dignity!

Came Monday morning and I recounted my experience to a French colleague. She asked me if I knew what the sausage was made of. I replied “non”. She burst into laughters and said it was made of PIG’S BLOOD! It was what the English called Black Pudding! It was no pudding to me :s