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Surprise found in soup |
| Fifty-seven years ago when I was a young man
fresh out of the Navy, I accompanied two sisters to New Orleans.
One was my mother, the other, my aunt, and we had a great time
in one of the country's most colorful cities. It hadn't yet acquired
the sobriquet of "The Big Easy," but even then it was
obvious the city had an inimitable cachet. My favorite memory of the trip was a dinner at Antoine's, a world-famous restaurant serving epicurean food with majestic panache. Being in a venturesome mode my aunt ordered turtle soup. When it was presented (Antoine's doesn't serve, it presents), she dipped her spoon into the bowl and pulled out a tiny pipsqueak turtle. "Aaaaghh!" she shrieked loud enough to turn every head in our direction and incite the arrival of our waiter, the captain, and the maître d'. I don't recall the verbatim exchange between my aunt and the official assembly which had materialized at our table, but I suspect it went something like this. Maître d': "Is something the matter, madame?" Aunt: "There is a turtle in my soup!" Maître d': "Oui, but of course, madame. Zat ees turtle soup, no?" Aunt: "Yes, but I didn't expect a turtle in it." Maître d': "But, madame, in mushroom soup we use mushrooms; in tomato soup we put tomatoes. Does madame think we put chipmunks in zee turtle soup?" I haven't the faintest notion what else we had for dinner. But the turtle soup episode was deeply ingrained in my memory and just recently moved to the forefront when I read a story in the Los Angeles Times which began with the headline "Woman Sues Over Condom In Soup." Now if anyone thinks I am making this up, get a copy of the Nov. 10 Times and you'll find it on Page 4 of Section B. I feel the world is becoming more unhinged with each passing day and a condom in bowl of soup only confirms my viewpoint. For those who don't search for the clues documenting our descent into lunacy, the story details the adventure of three woman lunching together at McCormick & Schmick's seafood restaurant in Irvine. They were all eating clam chowder when one of them commented, "Something rubbery is sticking to my teeth." "Of course," said one of the ladies, "you're chewing on a clam." The woman spit it out and it wasn't a particle of clam but a you-know-what. And the article states the woman ran to the rest room and threw up for 15 minutes. To exacerbate things, the restaurant manager seized the condom and informed the women the restaurant's insurance company had told him not to return it or let them photograph it. It seems these incidents get progressively more ludicrous and the height of absurdity on this one was evidenced by a sentence in the lawsuit which states "the condom was possibly a used one." Bonnie McNeil, a former editor of this newspaper, used to call me an "old poop." I fancy she was right on because if ever there was an old poop, it is I. Though I find a certain droll irony in these episodes, in the long run, they contribute nothing to the human condition and, in fact, are an assault on civilized behavior which is becoming less definable with each passing day. So what are we going to do about this insidiously creeping barbarism which is turning us into a society of ill-mannered louts? I don't have an answer for that question and have no idea who does. However, I do have an answer for curtailing any forthcoming epidemic of condoms in our soup. When dining out order consomme, bouillon, or broth and stay away from thick soups. That way there will be no surprises. |