Spiral French staircases can be hell. Try navigating one after a bottle of Muscadet, or, for that matter, an over-sized traveler's luggage. I've done it with both, and trust me, neither is a pretty sight. But, then again, you're in France. Life could be worse.
Still, life can have it's unfortunate accoutrement; for example, andouillette. Not to be confused with the Creole spicy sausage that adorns jambalaya or gumbo, I learned at the renowned Paris restaurant Balthazar that andouillette is trip, or the stomach lining of a farm animal. In this case, I think it was a pig.
Porter won the prize for the worst plate choice of night No. 1, and, as it turned out the entire trip. He knew he was in trouble when he cut into the plain, grilled sausage with no sauce and it unraveled like fingers loosening their grip. He uttered, "My God, this smells horrible," before taking a bite. He told me it actually tasted much worse. Somehow he gagged down half of the approximately six-inch long sausage.
Indeed it was horrific. Being the adventurous traveler I am, I tried a bite. course, it wasn't until later when we consulted one of Bill's books on French food that we discovered the true meaning of andouillet. If you ever go to France and you encounter "Andouillette AAAAA" on l'menu, it's probably best to pass. Come to find out, the "AAAAA" denotes a French society of gourmet tripe lovers.
My saumon, or salmon for you non-Francophiles, was better, a bit over-cooked but definitely palatable after 12 hours spent in the air, five of those spent drinking or sleeping in three different airports over the past day.
Meanwhile, words cannot express watching Bill play air cutlery as he nearly fell asleep at the table while cutting his asperges blanc (white asparagus). God, was it tasty. I've never had more tender, succulent asparagus in my life. Just another experience.
C'est la vie!
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