Serious question

Just when I was thinking two carnivals in a week would suffice for a lifetime, a third came long. And a fourth beckons.

Menton is a fine resort situated just after Monaco ends, going east along the Riviera, but before Italy starts.

Why the words - "shall we go to the La Fête du Citron ?" - even occurred to me, let alone escaped from my lips, I cannot tell.

One answer could be that it gave an excuse for another trip along the coast by rail, this time straying eastwards beyond Nice.
I mustn't prattle on about the joys of taking a train journey on the
French Riviera; just do it if you find yourself in the area.

Nor should I attempt to describe La Fête du Citron
at undue length. It's not so different from the carnivals of mimosas or
whatever, and even the colour wouldn't change much if it were not for
the similar abundance of oranges.

So getting back to the subject I identified in my headline, what
exactly is the point of polenta?
It was served with stewed beef as part of an agreeable enough meal at
Le Majestic, a brasserie located between the station at Menton and the
ticket office where they charged you 14 euros a head to proceed to the
promenade and find somewhere to stand and watch the parade.
For the last daytime procession of the carnival, Le Majestic was taking
no chances and offered a single set menu - the beef, preceded by an
excellent rough pate with, fittingly, lemon tart to finish and a little
jug of wine thrown in - for 21 euros.
The ambiance was jolly, helped along by two bibulous couples on a coach
trip from Sancerre - "what name do you give your husband's private
parts?" one of the messieurs asked at one point.

Looks more interesting than ours
Picture: Nofolete

But
no one could quite work out why the beef had to be accompanied by
polenta, except that we were so close to Italy. It just seemed to be
slab of nothing, edible but desperately uninteresting and devoid of
taste unless you smothered it in the sauce from the meat.
That blogging standby Wikipedia describes it thus:

Many
new recipes have given new life to an item which is, in essence, a
fairly bland and common food, invigorating it with various cheeses or
tomato sauces.

But giving something that has no taste "new life" by adding cheese or
tomato is surely like making the phone book sound great by getting a
wonderful singer to warble extracts from J or K. Or have I missed
something?

The last of my carnivals is this Sunday and the good news is that it's in Le Lavandou. I'll eat at home.

Labels: carnivals, citron, France, Italy, Le Lavandou, lemon. oranges, Menton, Nice, polenta, Riviera, train