Or, without the atrocious French accent, roast beef.
Until Saturday night, I did not like it in the slightest. I think this is because we basically never had it at home, so my few experiences with it have been at average buffets and worse wedding receptions.
But then there was Saturday.
Saturday, we had a party. It was a bit of a fizzer in the afternoon – only a couple of people came by because the weather was icky – but we ended up with 14 for dinner. And J had this brilliant idea that wouldn’t a roast be fun?
3.8kg of beef later, a kilo or more of beans, plus potato and carrot for the mob… I was impressed. And very full, of course. It was fantastic! And there were two pieces left… hello, lunch. So I’m a convert, at home anyway.