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ciroccoj"No, I'm a squirrel."
And
What did Jeffrey Dahmer say to Loreena Bobbitt?
"You gonna eat that?"
Tasteless? No, why?
These are just two of the tasteless jokes Chris and I traded on our date at Le Tartuffe last night. Fancy shmancy French restaurant in Hull, which my mother sent us to. The whole evening - or should I say soiree - ended up costing us about $12CDN. My mom babysat and paid for the dinner, which came to (wait for it...) $101CDN. Holy crap. It was fantastic, but everything was teeny weeny tiny. As French cuisine is supposed to be.
I had the gazpacho, ceviche and caribou medallions (won't be eating caribou again - it tastes just like beef) and Chris had the fresh greens in vinaigrette, cheese and clams, and Alberta beef (hence the Mad Cow joke, one of my all-time favourites). We declined the Stinky Cheese tray, but Chris had a creme brule and I had the mango cheesecake. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.
Of course, everything sounded infinitely fancier when our waiter said it in French. Chris didn't believe the guy was francophone, though. He was convinced he was just another Ottawa Valley hoser, who said goodbye to his buddies on the way to work with a, "OK, I'll see youse all later! - and for monsieur's dining eenjoymahnt, ze Chef's creation for today is ze flambed canard a la marsellaise."
The ceviche also reminded me of our wedding, oddly enough. I guess ceviche means different things in different places. For our wedding, I wanted to have some authentic Chilean dishes because I'm Chilean and we were going to have Chilean guests. I gave the restaurant my mom's recipe for ceviche, but it didn't occur to me to tell them to mince the fish, because that's just so obvious - it's what ceviche means, AFAIK. Anyway, we got to the reception and found these weird fillets being served.
"What's this?" I asked the staff.
"This is ceviche," they answered. Giggly moment, as I realized they had followed my mom's recipe to the letter - and the Canadian guests were enthusiastically partaking of this taste of "genuine" Chilean cuisine, while the Chilean guests were wondering why we were calling this strange fish dish "ceviche", when it clearly wasn't.
Yesterday's "ceviche" was lemon-cooked clams. Go figure.
Anyway. Nice date. As Guy, my mom's partner, put it, "I don't know how often couples are supposed to go out together, but it's surely more often than they go out." This is probably true. Not that we could afford Le Tartuffe all the time, but for the price of one soiree at Le Tartuffe, we could probably squeeze in about five McDonald's dates.
And
What did Jeffrey Dahmer say to Loreena Bobbitt?
"You gonna eat that?"
Tasteless? No, why?
These are just two of the tasteless jokes Chris and I traded on our date at Le Tartuffe last night. Fancy shmancy French restaurant in Hull, which my mother sent us to. The whole evening - or should I say soiree - ended up costing us about $12CDN. My mom babysat and paid for the dinner, which came to (wait for it...) $101CDN. Holy crap. It was fantastic, but everything was teeny weeny tiny. As French cuisine is supposed to be.
I had the gazpacho, ceviche and caribou medallions (won't be eating caribou again - it tastes just like beef) and Chris had the fresh greens in vinaigrette, cheese and clams, and Alberta beef (hence the Mad Cow joke, one of my all-time favourites). We declined the Stinky Cheese tray, but Chris had a creme brule and I had the mango cheesecake. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.
Of course, everything sounded infinitely fancier when our waiter said it in French. Chris didn't believe the guy was francophone, though. He was convinced he was just another Ottawa Valley hoser, who said goodbye to his buddies on the way to work with a, "OK, I'll see youse all later! - and for monsieur's dining eenjoymahnt, ze Chef's creation for today is ze flambed canard a la marsellaise."
The ceviche also reminded me of our wedding, oddly enough. I guess ceviche means different things in different places. For our wedding, I wanted to have some authentic Chilean dishes because I'm Chilean and we were going to have Chilean guests. I gave the restaurant my mom's recipe for ceviche, but it didn't occur to me to tell them to mince the fish, because that's just so obvious - it's what ceviche means, AFAIK. Anyway, we got to the reception and found these weird fillets being served.
"What's this?" I asked the staff.
"This is ceviche," they answered. Giggly moment, as I realized they had followed my mom's recipe to the letter - and the Canadian guests were enthusiastically partaking of this taste of "genuine" Chilean cuisine, while the Chilean guests were wondering why we were calling this strange fish dish "ceviche", when it clearly wasn't.
Yesterday's "ceviche" was lemon-cooked clams. Go figure.
Anyway. Nice date. As Guy, my mom's partner, put it, "I don't know how often couples are supposed to go out together, but it's surely more often than they go out." This is probably true. Not that we could afford Le Tartuffe all the time, but for the price of one soiree at Le Tartuffe, we could probably squeeze in about five McDonald's dates.
