Daily Blague

Memo to self: don't leave your little French pieces at the top of a page. Ahem. Please refrain from conveying the impression that this is a French-language site.

Yesterday's French lesson went well. My mind was slightly elsewhere until, in the last half hour, I had the bright idea of regaling my prof with the Paris restaurant stories that I'd struggled to convey at our first meetings eighteen months ago (when I hadn't even found out that he is a retired restaurateur). Like the one about the Lab pup at Apicius (now in the VIIIe) who got away from his mistress and made a tour of the other tables, which made everybody giggle except the oblivious owner. And the one about the little bishop, decked out in scarlet and fringe for lunch with his parents at La Grande Cascade, who was so impatient for a taxi that the management finally had a kitchen boy drive him away in a beat-up old hatchback, or the really divine bavarois au poivron that Kathleen had at the now-shuttered Vivarois. These tales were all much easier to put over yesterday, thanks to all that my prof has taught me - and to his truly remarkable patience.