'Meat of the Week'

From left: Sharon, Linda, Adrian, Terry and Maureen;
plus the mirror.

Is Not 'Mascot of the Week'

Paris:- Thursday, 16. November 2000:- It is really easy to dispose of today's weather report. Today has been lousy weather day in Paris. Yes, it does happen, and instead of beating around the bush about it, it is better to have an umbrella.

Nevertheless, I, whom is the club's secretary, have arrived at it first. This allows Adrian Leeds, who arrives with the server-lady Linda Thalman, to ask me where all the members are - at exactly 15:04.

My reply is suitable but unprintable because I do not say it out loud. Then I get to listen to an extremely long saga concerning the closed métro station of Louvre-Rivoli, rain, and a Louvre short-cut also being closed; etc. etc..

The club's very own métro station was closed on Monday, and will stay closed until the day before the club meeting on Thursday, 14. December. My suggestion is - and you should commit this to memory - do not try to take shortcuts by way of the Louvre - and use the métro stations at Châtelet or Pont-Neuf instead.

Within a couple of minutes of the arrival of the soaked ladies, Sharon Morgan also arrives, also soaked. To get it over with all at once, all club members present today - all of them! - arrive soaked because of the closed Louvre-Rivoli métro station.

Thus it becomes the club's first 'Closed Métro Station of the Week' - or should it be 'month?'

Because Adrian is having difficulty remembering Thanksgiving's date, Sharon says, "Thirty days hath September," and so on. It seems to me this is a long thing to memorize, when all you have to know is Thanksgiving is one week after Beaujolais Nouveau Day unless you do it in Canada.

Sharon decides to have a glass of it. Adrian suggests sharing a 'petit pot' because it costs less than half the price of two balloon glasses. I don't notice what Linda the server-lady has.

I think Sharon knows the date of Thanksgiving because she has brought an elegant booklet entitled 'A Book of Thanksgiving' which she made herself, yesterday. It contains recipes and useful ruminations, including the really true story of Thanksgiving.

Sharon is writing a whole cookbook, based on cooking she's done in places like Chicago, Jamaica and South Africa, and she intends to use the recipes in her own restaurant in Paris as soon as she opens it.

Obviously, this warrants the club's unique 'Cook of the Week' award because no other members have admitted to cooking as a profession.

Adrian, as many readers already know, is a professional eater. While Linda is on the phone - telling somebody what she's drinking - but not telling me - Sharon and Adrian exchange tips on how to do deep-fried turkey.

Apparently, you need a big pot for doing this. When the turkey rises to the top, it's done.

With the 'mad cow' thing currently causing newspaper headline writers to be psychotic, Adrian defends beef tooth and painted fingernail - while Sharon says she's not 'eating any.'

Adrian says, "Beefalo is really good!"

Sharon ups the ante by saying, "Zebra is not black and white when cooked." Before Adrian can think up some exotic meat to top this, Sharon tells us all about the raising of ostriches in herds.

"The only thing wrong with them," she says, "They're murder on dogs." Their good part - and they have one - is the fact that you can use all of them for something, like for ladies' hats. Not even their horrible-looking feet go unused.

Now, let me interrupt here to say that Linda and Jim Auman have arrived and have put their names in the members' booklet, and they've put another New Jersey town on the map - namely Warren, NJ. Warren, wherever it is besides being in New Jersey, becomes the club's 'City of the Week.'

Jim Auman has been reading Metropole for a very long time and he contributed his memoirs of the Paris events of May '68 to it a couple of years ago.

Another thing that is happening at this club meeting is today's 'waiter of the week' is being summoned often, but I am scribbling notes and am not keeping any clear track of the pots of Beaujolais Nouveau hitting the table, being poured into glasses, and generally evaporating.

"Gobble-gobble," Adrian says. She says, "Do you know what happens when you whisper 'gobble-gobble' in a turkey's ear?"

Forget 'week;' this is probably the 'Question of the Year!'

"They pass it on," Adrian continues, "And all hell breaks loose!"

While I'm wondering if turkeys have ears, Linda the server-lady says, in mid-quote, "When the sun comes out you can see the ight."