Not long ago, this conversation took place in my apartment:
French boy: I've ordered something online for us.This went on for some time, with me becoming increasingly horrified until I realized we were talking about cooking. A cul de poule (big sigh of relief) is just a big bowl for whipping and melting.
American girl: What's that?
FB: A cul de poule!
AG: ...Come again?
FB: Chicken butt!
AG: ... Is that, um, something you'd like to try?
FB: Absolutely! And it's silicone - so not hard to clean!
AG: Do you not find that even the slightest bit vulgar?I am completely alone in this country, it seems, in finding cul de poule totally giggleworthy. How else to explain the straight-faced existence of restaurant named Chicken Butt? Caroline Mignot, in her review published online today, had nice things to say about the newly-opened (sorry) Cul de Poule. She even admitted that "le nom me plaît bien." And here I thought she looked so very innocent...
FB: I have no idea what you mean.
Cul de Poule, 53 rue des Martyrs, 75009
+33 (0)1 53 16 13 07
Update! I have finally tasted the butt for myself. You can read about it over at Mu Foo.