One of the few things I don’t miss is Paris, not least because its denizens take great pleasure in humiliating the English.
For example, when you order vin de maison in a Parisian restaurant, the waiter will almost certainly inform you that anyone uncultured enough to drink house wine should go to a ‘ferkeeng nightcloob’.
In such an event, take this advice on board, choose a heart-stoppingly expensive alternative, and sit in embarrassed silence until he returns – not with a normal-sized bottle but a fucking great Methuselah. Guffaw merrily at this hilarious gag, even though you want to brain the garlic-licking berk with a soup spoon and force-feed him his own cerebrum. By this stage, the other patrons in the restaurant should be looking at you with a mixture of pity and disgust, as though an albatross has crapped on your head.
Eventually, a proper bottle of wine will be delivered to the table. Pour yourself a large glass – you’ll need it to wash down the chef’s special.
April 25, 2008 at 1:03 pm
French waiters are very good at recommending expensive wines from their menu before you even ask. Luckily, on the understanding that they’re going to hate me whatever I do, I’m ready to order the cheap plonk. If they’re going to serve fries with everything, it’s the least I can do.
May 8, 2008 at 3:06 pm
ahhh – french waiters. so professional, so efficient, so full of effing je ne sais quoi!