I love how the French make a ceremony out of eating snails! There is the special little plate with divots in it to hold the wee snail snug, the eyelash curler looking utensil to grasp your slippery friend (not because of any slime but because of the garlic butter waterfall dripping off them) and then the slender fork just pointy enough to snag that morsel of mollusc and pop it into your eagerly salivating mouth.
When Hubby and I were last in France (Oh my, could I sound a bit more hoity toity!? We've been two times but with that kind of talk it sounds like I pop over twice yearly for the collections!!) we were delighted to discover a B and B attached to a snail farm. Unfortunately as it was winter, the snails were bundled up in sacks hibernating and hence we didn't visit. Instead we took a perilious Tour de France pilgrimage halfway up L'Alpe d'Huez in our little Peugeot and amazed at the stength and courage of the people that do it...on bicyles!
When next we visit with our little miss we hope to spend some time there watching the thousands of baby snails feasting all day on luscious grass. Imagine the conversations, "Look Bijou! There's a paddock of sheep...a paddock of cows...a paddock of snails!!) The owners then prepare a delicious feast of snails in their vast country kitchen complete with copper pots and pans before tucking you into bed. And croissants in the morning...bien sur!
When our dearest friends' beautiful daughter (our god-daughter) turned one I took along these little meringue snails to add something to the festive spread. It was quite apparent that meringue is something we're never too old for as most of them were scoffed by the adults. The rest made a few kidlets loopy with sugary pleasure...and their parents eye ball me across the yard. Oopsie!