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From: "Vee L. Housman" <>
Subject: [FOLKS] Mouse Saga No. 7--The French Connoisseur
Date: Sat, 12 Oct 2002 16:35:56 -0700


THE FRENCH CONNOISSEUR

January 13, 1998

"Oh, Mon Cheri," Joker sighed one evening as we sipped our Carlo Rossi red Kool Aid. "How I miss my Paris!" He had a rather sad far away look in his eyes.

Since I was quite curious about his mysterious French past, I encouraged him to continue. Besides, I loved to listen to his charming French accent.

"Ah! April in Paris, chestnuts in blossom! The last time I saw Paris, her heart was warm and gay! Mon Cheri, I have such beautiful memories of Paris," he said with a dreamy look on his face as if picturing the scenes of Paris. "Mon Ami, you have not LIVED until you have sipped French wine at a sidewalk cafe!"

Oh, that sure sounded good to ME! Wow, French wine!!

He then remembered something amusing and he laughed out loud at the humor of it. He explained, "Oh, that naughty Henri!" And he laughed again.

"Who was Henri?" I asked, making certain I pronounced it as he did, a sorta ON RAY.

"Mon Cheri, Henri Toulouse-Lautrec, my dearest friend."

Gee, he actually was a friend of that very short painter, Toulouse-Lautrec. I WAS impressed.

"Oh, naughty Henri and I would spend our evenings at a sidewalk cafe, sipping our absinthe and watching the can-can dancers dance their way down the cobblestone sidewalks, flashing their "dainties" at us as they danced on by." He chuckled over the memory.

I decided I best change the subject. "Didn't you work or anything?

"Mon Cheri, indeed I did work," he replied defensively as if he thought I felt that he was just a frivolous mouse. By the way, I was getting a bit irritated by that "Mon Cheri" stuff, but didn't want to mention it because I knew it would only cause an argument. He continued.

"I spent YEARS at the famous University of Sorbonne tutored by the greatest chefs in the world. I could never describe that magic day when the Head Chef pinned my Master Chef merit badge on my chef's hat. It was a memorable moment for me, especially when he kissed me on both cheeks." At that memory, he giggled a couple of times.

He reveled in the thought and then said, "Just to prove to you what magnificent culinary skills I have, one day I will demonstrate to you how I have mastered the art of French cooking. I will prepare my famous Crepes Suzette for you, if you would like me to."

"Oh, would I? Would I?" I replied gleefully. (Wood Eye? Wood Eye? Reminds me of a joke I heard long ago! tee hee!)

First he INSISTED I go out and buy a special crepe pan from the most exclusive kitchenware shop in the area. Actually he said "in the world," but the mall would have to do. And as I headed out the door, he shouted after me, "And make certain it is made in FRANCE!" Cheesh! Picky, picky!

When I returned with his precious crepe pan, I found that he had written a grocery list for me. Of course he wanted me to go to the most exclusive gourmet shop, but Tops Friendly Supermarket would have to do.

After the ingredients were all assembled, he donned his white chef's hat, his large white apron, and with a flourish, began. I must admit, he looked very professional and impressive. He worked with great intensity and with great skill. When it was time to flip the crepe over, he insisted that I quit hovering over him. "It might break my concentration," he explained. I backed off.

With great dramatic presence, he flipped the crepe HIGH into the air (thank goodness for high ceilings!), it magically flipped over, and Master Chef Jacques caught it dramatically in the pan.

When all the crepes were made, he said, "Now, Mon Cheri, let me escort you to your chair at the table to await my final magnifique presentation." Wow, that's some class he's got, ain't it??

He dipped the crepes into an outrageously fantastic sauce, placed them precisely on a plate before me, heated up some Cointreau liqueur and French brandy, poured it over the crepes, lit a match and set them aflame! He had a look of such utter delight and pride as he watched the expression on my face at the grand flaming drama of it all. Wow, what a master chef!

Although he was delighted with my enjoyment of his culinary skills, nothing would drive him up the wall more than my telling him how much I enjoyed his "Crapes" Suzette. "Oh, Mon Dieu!" he would scream back at me. "They are 'KREPPS,' not 'CRAPES!!!'" He would become so livid, that he would throw down his chef's apron, his chef's hat and stomp out of the kitchen in a rage. Hey, talk about touchy French chefs!!

But there was another French side of him which I eventually learned to appreciate. In spite of his picky, picky nagging about my fashion sense, he eventually won me over. Do you know what? He really has exquisite taste in clothes! "Well, Mon Cheri," he said. "What did you expect from someone who has studied for years under the tutelage of Christian Dior?" No, I won't say that I went out and bought the best from the most expensive boutiques, but I will say that I DID go out and buy some new "dainties" for myself. And I must admit that they look better on me than my long johns!

And so went our days. Full of surprises from Monsieur Jacques (AKA Joker) the French connoisseur, full of outrageous swear words in French and, then, days of our just putting up with each other. You know, he's not an easy guy to live with! But then, what guy is--man OR mouse?

vee


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