Escargots, my first

Shortly after pitching our tent in Langres we pootled in to town proud that our camping in vile weather equated to guilt free fare outside of the camp kitchen.
Discovering a restaurant offering local cuisine we shrugged off the embarrassment of mud and Bike booties we soon realised the lack of flow of service was universal and not individually directed at us. I spied escargots on the menu as I always do but rather than liking it to the worm on my ground mat I decided it was now or never.
My snails came minus shell, burnt my fingers before realising the eyelash curling implements were actually to hold the tiny snail sized ceramic pots.
Grass….no….parsley, fresh and tangy, the morsels were delicious, garlicky and green, no slime, definitely doable, again, even desirable but I can’t decide if hey taste of anything else.
My main. I was more interested in Li’s tripe sausage, or something even more…..my imagination does not want to go there, it was stinky but good….
Between us taster of 4 cheeses. The local cheese was a nipple tweaking cheese. Like a good creme brûlée, food should make you feel…..I should keep my thoughts to my self, told I have to run around rampart 5 times before sharing a tent if it makes me feel like that….and desert, Dame Blanc, looked like obscenely large Viennese hot chocolate. Dug down through cream to warm runny chocolate surprised by runny cold sauce like melted ice cream at the bottom, shock to senses, cold, hot, warm, cold yum. But I enjoyed the sense more than the taste.
I’m ready for more snails and Langres cheese.