Had I been a man with ambition, I would have petitioned for legislation requiring food service outlets to, at bare minimum, provide the product that is in their name - I was living in Washington, DC at the time. My organization would be called F.O.O.D., Foodies Organized and Opposed to Deception, and we would stop at nothing to bring truth in advertising to the fast-food community. Sadly, for an aimless 23 year old bridging the time between happy hour and a night on the town, this sort of civic action was not to be. So I ordered a Chicken Burrito and wrote off the incident as a once in a lifetime irony that I would soon find out makes a really dull cocktail party anecdote.
Oh how wrong I was (the part about the irony, not about people trying to avoid me at social occasions).
Flash forward 13 years and I've dragged my seven months pregnant wife to Montreal for one reason and one reason only - Au Pied De Cochon. Few restaurants - let alone one only five years old - can claim such a legendary status in a city's culinary landscape as Martin Picard's temple of comfort food and overindulgence. And surely none have so wholeheartedly given themselves over to the wonder of Foie Gras in such abundance as this bustling little eatery. I've read that Picard serves more Foie Gras every day than all the other restaurants in the Quebec province combined. If it's not true, please don't correct me because I don't want to know.
As he walked away I literally brought my hands to the side of my head and dropped it to the table in disbelief. I'd seen one come out of the kitchen a few minutes before I ordered. How could they possibly be out?