Caviar, Squid, Snails and Goose Liver: Steve's Daydream of Fine Dining
Steve grabbed his laptop to play with his idea a bit more, but soon stopped to gaze out the window at the sunny afternoon. In no time at all, he’d returned to his favorite pastime of late and fell into a daydream. This time the setting was a huge, richly decorated home on the shores of a grand lake. Inside was a long room with an equally long table and many chairs. Steve sat at the head of the table, which was covered with a vast array of food. Quite a prim and proper English butler decked out in proper English butler attire attended to him. “Here you are, Sir. Caviar,” announced Jeeves. He handed Steve the caviar, which Steve consumed with a grin. His grin quickly faded, however, as he promptly began to gag. “Eww, yuck, blah! What is that stuff anyway?”
“Fish eggs, Sir,” Jeeves told him politely. “ Would you care for the calamari?”
Steve shrugged, thinking nothing could be quite as nasty as his recent escapade with caviar. “Ah, well. Okay, sure. I'll try that.” The butler stood back, this time with an extra napkin draped over his hand just in case, as Steve bit delicately into the calamari. The calamari went down much easier, and Steve and Jeeves were equally pleased. “So, what's this stuff?” asked Steve, pointing to another dish.
“Squid, Sir.” Jeeves had become quite bored with his unsophisticated diner and now rolled his eyes at each question.
Steve tried the squid and promptly spit it out, wiping his mouth and tongue on his sleeve. “Blah! Yuck, what's with all this fishy food?” He then picked up some escargot and tasted it. “What about this? What's this? It’s kind of... rubbery.”
“It’s called escargot, Sir,” Jeeves told him.
“Sounds fancy. What's that mean in English?” Steve asked inspecting the food.
“It means snails, Sir,” Jeeves replied, leaning even farther away from the table and holding out yet another napkin. On cue, Steve promptly spit out the snails.
“I don't eat stuff I would use for bait!” Steve told the butler adamantly. “God, don't you have some non-fish, non-slimy, non-gag-inducing stuff?” Jeeves nodded and bowed politely and served Steve a plate of pate de foie gras. “Try some of this, Sir. I can assure you it's quite good.” Steve took a bite, but clearly didn’t like it. “It tastes like some kind of raw meat,” he said as he grimaced in disgust. “What is it?
“Pate de foie gras,” Jeeves proudly announced.
“Another fancy name,” Steve said. “It sounds expensive. Is that Latin for something?”
“It's French, Sir. It means goose liver.”