chirting

So far, I have nothing but good things to say about The Devil's Picnic by Taras Grescoe. It is quick and witty and completely accessible. I'm managing to just blitz through it, his food (and booze) adventures are so thoroughly entertaining.

I asked her if she would try some cheese. She gave me a suspicious look, but appeared tempted.

They're Epoisses, from Burgundy," I said. "I know they are pretty strong..."

That seemed enough of a challenge to her Gallic pride. She stood over my table, examining the sweating rinds.

"I love cheese!" she said. "I work in a restaurant in Geneva. When all the clients have gone for the evening, we throw ourselves on the cheese they haven't eaten."

Inviting her to sit down, I offered her a glass of wine.

"It's only four o'clock in the afternoon!" she objected. "And I've just had a cup of hot chocolate."

Nonetheless, she joined me and immediately started folding wodges of bread to slather up the cheese. Her name was Marion, she was originally from Nantes, and she was enjoying a holiday week in Paris.

After that, it didn't take much to get her to agree to a glass of wine. I reflected that I'd discovered a novel technique, new maybe even to the French. Chirting - flirting with cheese.

Ladies beware of charming gentlemen wielding slumping wedges of rank cheese-y delight, coming to a bar near you.

Photo from Google Images.