I think I’m going to throw my French cookbook in the river. Why take perfectly good ingredients — in this case, fresh-from-the-garden carrots — and slave over them for more than an hour just to come up with a jumble of yuck? Grating, simmering, stirring, beating in an ungodly amount of heavy cream mixed with — you guessed it — too many eggs. In the end it tasted like watery and strangely sweet scrambled eggs. My father-in-law claimed it wasn’t so bad, but I’m pretty sure he was just being kind to the cooking impaired.