— Marie-Antoine!
— Oui?
— Regardez-vous these appetizers. What do you think?
— They look like merde. Of what are they made?
— Butter, curry powder, chopped onion, chicken livers,
walnuts, parsley, brandy.
— They are an atrocity. They are an insult to la cuisine Française.
Remove them from my sight and throw out the pan you made them in while you’re
at it.
— But Chef!
— What? I’m busy.
— I thought they would be perfect for tonight’s banquet.
— And why is this?
— We are cooking for the British. I thought…
— Aha. I see where you are going with this. Bring them back! Let me see them again. They are grievous to me. You
set them alight, non?
— Oui, Chef.
— This is appropriate. It is a dish from the bowels of Hell.
— What shall we call them, Chef? Boules de feu de pâte
de noix… Terrine des noyes boules en feu… Allumettes des Noix enfer….
— We shall call them what they are: Flaming Walnut Pate
Balls.
— But Chef! En Anglais?
— Oui. The British will think we are honoring them. It was
your idea, the curry powder?
— Oui, Chef.
— Tres bon, mon petit souris. Tres bon.
