Fates of the Animals by Padrika Tarrant

Author:Padrika Tarrant
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Salt Publishing Limited
Published: 2016-05-05T11:27:21+00:00

De la Viande

Entreés: Pâte de fois gras: Moules à la Français

Plat: Jambe d’un Homme Sophistique et Riche, avec Chaussure Marine; Légumes Verts, Carottes Jaunes et Petits Pois.

Déserts: Sorbets ou Fromages

The establishment is rather select. Generally speaking, the waiting list exceeds six months in advance; and of course, tables are only allocated on the basis of invitation from the management. Still, in view of our little party, certain strings were pulled, and an exception had been made at the discretion of Chef himself.

Discretion is the watchword, one might say, of La Palais. Indeed, our little bijou is so very select that society conducts its small affairs right outside the premises, without so much as a suspicion that La Palais exists. We are, one might say, under their very noses while they stuff themselves with burgers and various filth.

The operation itself had been conducted some four weeks previously. I am told that the time delay is vital, as this rarest of dishes must be left to rest, to hang, to mature. To rush such a gastronomical endeavour would have been nothing less than blasphemous. The service provided had been simply laudable; I was attended to by diligent and respectful staff. My surroundings had been more than comfortable; I was in and out in a week.

We arrived a little before eight, and already many of the tables were occupied. A genteel swell of conversation had gathered in the air, balanced by a pianist who filled the room with a soothing undercurrent of jazz. As is customary for all non-members and for those not bestowed with a permanent contract, he was wearing a blindfold. It was generally remarked upon that this rather showed off the prodigious quality of his musical skill. I was hailed warmly by all: these are my friends, those of a truly like mind.

Francois was at our side in a moment, collecting coats, umbrella and crutches, and spiriting them away to the cloakroom. (I have it on good authority that the garments are in fact placed upon mannequins; certainly, I have never had anything returned to me with the slightest wrinkle.)

Nicola was charming, dressed exquisitely and eager to listen to my stories. My anecdotes, I must own, are rather renowned; yet as I always say, it is at least in part the quality of the audience that maketh the speaker. Dear Nicola, she brings out the best in me. She embodies the absolute quality of La Palais; one might almost forget that she was employed here, but for the dainty silver padlocks. And then it was a quarter past eight precisely. Dinner time. I was fairly fluttering with nerves.

The main course was, naturally the principle attraction. The tureen was borne in by the maitre d’ himself. It is the house custom to carve at the table. His reverent entrance made quite a spectacle; it was placed between the two of us with a flourish,, and the whole room fell silent in anticipation. I must admit that I revelled a little in the attention.

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