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The Erstwhile Epicure

Friday, July 17, 2009

Unless it was served with Tarte Tatin ala Bloomin' Onion, I would have rather starved than masticate Marie Antoinette's infamous cake.

Posted by ML at 1:55 PM No comments:

Thursday, July 16, 2009

First, Demeter expectorated into a roadside puddle. Then the Great Deluge ensued, ensuring the muck's ubiquity. -Origin of French Onion Soup

Posted by ML at 1:45 PM No comments:

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

When I die, my ghost shall not abscond until my ashes are lavished with lavander and barreled in a vinyard devoid of muskrats.

Posted by ML at 9:17 AM No comments:

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Beware the Belgians...for in their iniquitous hands, a feral aardvark hyoid will be used not to flavor soupe - but French Fries.

Posted by ML at 9:05 AM No comments:

Monday, July 13, 2009

A grotesque child may gorge itself on chocolate soufflé. Un homme sophistiqué relishes the gastronomic euphony of cheese soufflé ala Red Rooster.

Posted by ML at 9:41 AM No comments:
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Jean-Jacques Louis

was born in Paris, as a gastronomic genius should be. His immense talents were evident early in his life; the first word to emanate from his precocious tongue was "hollandaise." While still an infant he could differentiate between breast milk and Similac (the former having a pleasant tartness). He actively eschewed Gerber food, preferring a Filet Mignon au poivre (medium rare) and asparagus risotto purée. When it came time for him to attend primary school, he scoffed at the cafeteria's cuisine (informing the flabbergasted lunch mistress she wouldn't know foie gras from farfalle) and from that day forth brought his own exquisitely prepared meals. Traditional school, however, proved to be egregious squandering of his abilities. So it was inevitable that he become the youngest student ever to attend the prestigious Le Cordon Bleu International. After finishing in record time, he turned his focus to attaining the most exclusive epicurean distinction: that of Master Sommelier. After months of incessant training, he applied...only to be rejected. Refusing to permit the Master Sommeliers to impede his preordained brilliance, he began a public protest of their admissions policies. For days he subsisted on a diet of various cheeses and wines - sampling each blindly, so as to allow him to demonstrate his preternatural knowledge. But tragedy soon struck. One week into the protest - whilst sampling a most robust Sassichia - his palate suffered a paralyzing anxiety attack. Horrified, he absconded in the direction of a local sheep farm...and for a decade, he was neither seen nor heard. Then he mysteriously resurfaced one summer day - and trumpeted his intentions to record his memoirs. However, it immediately became clear his once-impeccable tastes had undergone a Macabre Mutation.

Jean-Jacques Louis, gifted gastronomist, had ceased to be. From that day forth, he was to be known only as the Erstwhile Epicure.

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  • ▼  2009 (20)
    • ▼  July (5)
      • Unless it was served with Tarte Tatin ala Bloomin'...
      • First, Demeter expectorated into a roadside puddle...
      • When I die, my ghost shall not abscond until my as...
      • Beware the Belgians...for in their iniquitous hand...
      • A grotesque child may gorge itself on chocolate so...
    • ►  June (15)