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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
 
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Everyday Canvas #967044 added September 30, 2019 at 10:12pm
Restrictions: None
Gastronomically Speaking
Prompt: Do you think, in some restaurants, choosing what to eat from an intricate menu can resemble an odyssey? If you had such an experience, how did you handle it?
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Once, about fifty years or so ago, I ended up looking at a menu with no prices on the items and everything in French. Though I can decipher French, I wasn’t familiar with the fancy names for the dishes, as the cook was a self-important snob, and possibly he made up some of the names for the dishes, and the restaurant, people were only allowed in as someone’s guest or by invitation. We were somebody’s guests. There were only four tables and about 8 -10 people at each table. As to what to make of the menu, we asked the person who took us there.
After the meal, the cook visited each table and talked to the customers, trying to find out what they thought and became mad if you said, “okay” or “fine” or something simple like that. You had to talk gastronomically. I think I pulled it well enough, but hubby was totally stunned. He looked at the guy in fear and said, pointing to me, “Whatever she says goes for me, too.”  The man stared at him and made a gesture.
At that point, the person who had taken us to that place came to our rescue, addressing the cook by name and making small talk. So, we were off the hook.
I don’t think there are such places left in NYC, anymore, but then, I wouldn’t know for sure, as over the years, I learned to avoid most snobs.
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