I started the day by scrounging through the pantry. I had golden raisins and cupcake liners, so there you go.
I then scrounged through the fridge. I phound a wedge of cheese, so there you go.
I had a hot date with a phollower of mine for pizza that I’d been looking phorward to for days.
Pizza Factory– I love you. End of story.
It took every ounce of my willpower to cut myself off at two slices.
The only thing that carried me through was the knowledge that I would be going to my very phavorite restaurant on the peninsula for dinner…
Let me be clear- I am a big time sucker for phabulous Phrench phood. Lucky for me, we have a spectacular bistro in our town that meets my needs and exceeds my expectations each and every time I go.
This visit was long overdue…
Bistro Moulin is a must visit, in my opinion, if you’re anywhere around these parts. The atmosphere is reminiscent of Bistro Jeanty, my phavorite spot in Yountville, but Moulin’s phood is honestly better (and the pholks who run the joint are definitely more phun!)
The crostini that arrives at each table is topped with a wonderful sort of tapenade that reminds me of a rouille, but I honestly have never asked what’s in it.
Their escargots is, in my opinion, the best I’ve phound outside of Phrance. The itsy bits of hazelnut that adorn the garlicky buttery pools of goodness blow my mind every time.
I’ve never been able to eat here without ordering this dish.
The Moules Frites are in my normal rotation (along with the Coq au Vin), as I love being transported to summer in Provence the moment I take a bite.
Bistro Moulin serves their frites separately and offers different aiolis with them, but I prefer to go traditional and throw those frites in the pot, letting them soak up deliciousness and deliver it to my mouth.
After such indulgence, the perfect end is a phromage selection.
If you don’t want to take my word for it, consider that phact that after a phew years of this phabulous place being open, you still need reservations for dinner on a Tuesday night.
Keep up the good work, Chef Didier… You pheed my psuedo Phrench soul so wonderfully!