Where's the boeuf?

Charolais (shar-o-lay) -- a big, docile sweetheart of a white French cow -- is a slice (sorry) of heaven.

They are raised all over the world now, but the ones I saw recently were concentrated in Burgundy, and in the Loire bread basket -- hey, that's a pain panier!

The way they do charolais at La Ciboulette (Beaune) is, I am assured by a Francophile, in the traditional French country style

Ordered medium-rare, the unmarbled cut cooked up firm yet not even remotely tough. The texture was not unlike a high quality buffalo steak.

The flavor of charolais is earthy, remarkably like lamb. I would use the term gamey, but a lot of unadventurous eaters (yeah lamb-haters, I mean you) confuse that with liver-y, and I don't want to scare anyone off.

Market day in Beaune (video below)

Best of all is a thin sauce of lemon and cheese (possibly Epoisses, the signature Burgundian cheese) poured over the charolais. These are not overpowering flavors, even though Epoisses is known for a stinky aroma.* I suspect the heat of cooking moderates the lemon and cheesiness. If I were making it, I would use the sequence melted butter - cheese - lemon juice - skillet drippings. Maybe a little white wine.

Bon apetit.

Of course, you have to finish the meal with a Calvados. Purely to aid the digestion, of course.

Cute and yummy.

24 seconds at Beaune market day

* We later had a chance to sample some Epoisses, and its stinky reputation is undeserved. It has an aroma, but it is in no way unpleasant or overpowering. And it may be the most complexly flavored cheese you'll every try -- nutty, buttery, with a distinct undertone of lamb.