There's an ala what on my plate?
There's a conspiracy in this country. It's darker than the moon landing hoax, Area 51 and Abraham Zapruder filming at least two of the Three Stooges on the grassy knoll.
It has to do with what we eat. Ever wondered how the "continental breakfast" got its name? It's European. With hard rolls and coffee every morning, no wonder Europe's had so many wars - they're hungry.
"What's Spam?" my wife asked.
To an outside observer who's never had a conversation with a member of the opposite sex, that was pretty random. But in marriage, nothing is random. She may be working up to 'what was I wearing when we met?'
"Spiced ham," I said, wondering if I should have said 'that little blue dress.' "It's made of all the little chunks of meat and fat that didn't make it into anything else. Hormel throws it in cans and sells it to people stocking up for the apocalypse."
"Oh," she said. "They should call it something else. Something French."
French? I thought. Oh, great. Every time we get ticked off at France, Congress proposes a bill to outlaw French fries because 'a tater tot would never forget we saved its fanny in WWII.'
"Look at caviar and escargot," she said. "Give them a French name and all of a sudden they're not fish eggs and snails."
Wow, she's right. The French are tricky when selling us their food. At least the British are honest when they serve you something you wouldn't eat on a dare. Kidney pie and blood pudding? Yeah, you know what you're getting. Maybe that's why we don't have any posh British restaurants in this country.
You: I'll have the special.
British waiter: Hog's bladder stuffed with rabbit entrails and tripe. Excellent choice, gov'na.
You: On second thought, I'll just have dessert.
British waiter: Sheep pancreas sorbet and roundabout hedgehog cakes coming right up.
What other foreign words have crept into our meals?
Alfresco:
Dining in the open air. Technically, this includes camping, the play land at McDonald's and eating out of other people's trash.
A la mode:
A scoop of vanilla ice cream. If Baskin Robbins was French the wall menu would frighten your children.
A la carte:
Much like buying a new car, if you want air conditioning, undercoating, floor mats, or peas, it's extra.
Al dente:
The spaghetti's not even cooked.
Du jour:
Whatever junk the restaurant didn't sell the day before.
What's America's contribution to this world of culinary slight-of-hand? Canadian bacon.
"What do they call Canadian bacon in Canada?" I once asked a friend from Ontario.
He shrugged.
"Ham."
Yeah, we can't even get that right.
"What about Roquefort cheese?" my wife asked.
I gently took her hand.
"You wore a little blue dress the day we met," I said. She smiled.
Yeah, that's where she was going.
