A slice of the terrine arrived with a curl of lettuce and, at first glance, it didn't look too bad - no obvious signs of hoof - so I pluckily put a forkful in my mouth. First impression: a taste of vinegar and shallots in the gelatine, nothing too vile. But as the gelatine dissolved whilst I was dissecting the untouched remains, the full horror of what was left in my mouth revealed itself on the plate - pieces of finely chopped skin (with hairs still attached thereto) and tendon and other stuff that's generally sent to the glue factory. Gag!
This is where a cheap napkin dispenser on the table would have come in handy, but in its absence, I had to spit into my linen napkin, which remained under the table for the rest of the meal. I still feel slightly queasy at the memory.
On the way home we stopped at a farmers' market where I spotted a box of physalis. I can't resist these ethereal-looking fruits the colour of sunshine with their fragile papery wings. In France they're called l'amour en cage (love in a cage), presumably because once the outer husks become skeletonized, they look like cages. Much more attractive than the STD-sounding English name!