A house and roses. A small river. Burned grass. Cows. Meantime, the peacocks are walking around.

It seems like there is nothing to do here. However …

It is getting dark, “respected people” are gathering in the glass pavilion, which is covered with nickel silver and candles. Obviously, they have come up to this remote and simple place with one and only purpose—to devour. Intentionally.

Kind of a scanty menu. Ok, it is cool, there are 5 types of ham in the testing endowed with Krug super champagne. But you’re still waiting for a gank.

And it is absent.

It is absent.

EVERYTHING IS PERFECT. We gobbled up 17 plates between the three of us, having caused shock at the fancy tables for 6-8 people.

PERFECT! Flawless, absolutely flawless.

There was only one faded item, poached egg with black caviar. But I have my explanation for this. I think that people idolize caviar so much, that when it appears on a plate, they forget about everything else. Black caviar is self-sufficient … but even this item was «simply good», not fucking good though. Nevertheless, it definitely was not a failure.

The rest?

Everything, from the first piece of lard on bread up to cherry comfiture whose each note you can feel. It is cherry, bitch, nothing to do with sugar. You do feel each micro nuance of this berry, each summer flash imprinted on it while it was ripening.

Of course, culatello. Forget about all the ham you have eaten before. Just get it out of your head. All that was nothing.

This one here is fucking Rolls-Royce in the world of dried meat.  Taste, texture, in general, everything here is beyond comparison.

The foam of taste in the mouth is engrossing. It is absorbing you and your vis-a-vis into the unfaithful light of night candles, into smells and tastes, into fireflies’ flashes, into grass burnt under the sun, into fist size stars.

Oh yeah, and the cheese. Fucking awesome.