Today, for some mysterious reason, Boulevard Saint Germain was blocked off by Police, and an enormous outpouring of young people took it over, dancing, fire eating, shouting, listening to ear-shattering music played over huge amps on trucks. I have no idea what was up, but there were some thousands of people parading down the Boulevard. One truck had placards calling for free medicines for AIDS sufferers, but I suspect that was just an excuse for what was basically a celebration of the end of summer.
In a desperate effort to use up whatever I found in the kitchen, I peeled and sliced a dozen shallots, carmelized the courgettes, sauted the shallots with butter [Julia Childs is quite right that everything tastes better with butter], grilled the quail until they were "rose" [i.e., pink], and served it all up with a Beaume de Venise for me and a bottle of rose for Susie.
I started with rabbit and ended with quail. Not too bad. Tomorrow, we shall see my French cousins, Andre and Jacqueline Zarembowitch [retired distinguished scientists -- Andre's grandfather was my great-grandfather's brother].
I hope you have all checked out the link to my son's talk. He is truly brilliant -- visiting this semester at Harvard Law School -- the leading young Civil Proceduralist in the country -- and a really great looker. I believe I have what, in a different context, would be called trophy sons.