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An dining adventure in Paris
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Progressive Supper
Ernest Hemingway called Paris a “movable feast," and I have always agreed with him. On my last night in Paris, I decided to have my own movable feast—a progressive supper, with each course in a different restaurant.
It was a perfect late summer evening. The sun set with an explosion of orange, pink and violet as I sat sipping my Kir Royale at the Café d'Flore. Then, I wandered over to Les Halles and the restaurant Au Pied de Cochon.
As the maitre d' escorted me to a choice table on the terrace, I stole furtive glances around the room, hoping there would be a single man within easy flirting range. Alas, there seemed to be only couples or groups of women nearby. My waiter, though cute, was far too young. I sighed and decided a little Champagne and oysters would cheer me up considerably. Yes, I thought, I'm feeling much better.
My next stop was L'Escargot Montorgueil for a few escargots. They were plump little darlings, swimming in garlic and butter and dusted all over with chopped parsley. I chose a wonderful old Burgundy red to accessorize the dish. Yummmmm, I thought, what a splendid idea. Suddenly, over the rim of my wine glass, I noticed an attractive Frenchman looking my way. Oh la la, I thought. Things are looking up. Then he smiled at me and I felt I would faint. When he got up from his table, I was certain he was coming over to meet me but he walked right by. With a sinking heart, I watched as he embraced a glamorous blonde. My beautiful escargots, so delicious a moment ago, seemed to coagulate on the plate
My mood was somewhat dejected as I crossed the Pont Marie to the Ile St. Louis. Gliding along the Seine below was a grand sightseeing boat, a Bateaux Mouche, its lights blazing against the old buildings. The decks were filled with happy couples laughing and pointing out the sights to each other. Romantic music came floating up to me and I could see couples dancing on the upper deck. Looking down along the quai I saw pairs and pairs of lovers strolling hand in hand.
Somehow I didn't feel hungry anymore. My plans to go to L'Orangerie for a leg of lamb and a rich Bordeaux no longer seemed interesting. By now I was feeling absolutely wretched and sorry for myself, so I decided to wander back toward the hotel.
The Pont Neuf looked beautiful with lights reflecting off the stone facade. Ah Paris, I sighed, how could any city be more lovely than you? I stood there, body tingling and heart swelling. Tears came to my eyes and I forgot all about my loneliness and depression. Then, as if on cue, a deep, sensuous voice said, "Bon soir, Mademoiselle." I turned around to gaze into a gorgeous pair of laughing, chocolate-brown eyes.
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