Saturday, September 3

That's a crock, monsieur

I had a bit of a senior moment yesterday.

I'd driven down to Chestnut Hill to walk through the Container Store, because I have shit that needs containing.

Post-purchase I trundled my stuff to the car, filled the trunk and as the back went down I realized that I had left my keys in there.

Anne came to the rescue, but not at emergency speed, so I found myself with 2 hours to fill. Incredibly there is a cinema next to the store, but they only had the Smurf movie, and The Help. I love black and blue people, but not enough to watch a dreary movie about either, so I went and found a place to eat instead.

I spotted a French restaurant. It was technically in a strip mall, but at least it's a Chestnut Hill strip mall. A quick once over the menu and I spotted croque monsieur so I went in.

Why doesn't everyone sell croque monsieurs (or madames for that matter)? They're not healthy, easy to make and delicious, in other words right in the middle of the American dining sweet spot.

Once inside, I realized I'd made my 2nd mistake. The CM was on the lunch menu. Zut alors!

So I ate badly cooked French food alone on a Friday night, as I read an old copy of Newsweek.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Call Julia Child to the rescue...
--dq