Just because I am not sure what an expression means, does not mean I cannot appropriate it for my own uses. Therefore, I have become a lady who lunches.
For my first Lady Lunch, I turned to Bistro Paul Bert. Along for the experience were O and the husband. O and I were very excited, the husband mostly bemused by the enthusiasm a chalkboard with menu options can cause. Strange, that.
I suppose part of our excitement did stem from the gleeful anticipation of lunch over the past weeks, which the husband had not been privy to. However, I would have been excited to see boudin noir (blood sausage, but don’t say that, because it will turn me off my food) and entrecote with bearnaise even without prior build-up. And they were lovely. The boudin noir was like a crumbly, deeply flavorful version of meat loaf, the entrecote chewy in a most pleasing manner. Also, I would have licked the bowl of béarnaise sauce clean if I had not suspected this is unacceptable behavior for ladies who lunch.
But then. Then came the real reason to come here in the first place: dessert. The Paris-Brest is famous, and I understand why. Choux pastry filled with sweet, nutty cream and sprinkled with sugared nuts. Ain’t nothing wrong with that, and the reviewers who think it is large enough to serve four are whimps. I was very happy, though, that we also ordered the Grand Marnier soufflé. That soufflé? Pillowy clouds of sweet orange flavor, with a caramel crunch when you lick your spoon. I enjoyed it even more than the one I had at The Ledbury, and they have two Michellin stars.
Strangely, the last few bites weren’t quite as earth-shatteringly good as the first, as if my tastebuds had gotten used to the beautiful things happening to them and were getting blasé about them. No matter, though, because my tribe likes to leave a few bites on the plate at the end of the meal.
For I am a lady who lunches.