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Published: October 22nd 2006
It was my last night in Central France. The next day I was heading to Paris, and then flying home. It was time to SPLURGE!
I size up a nice restaurant. Probably in a building over 1,000 years old. Really picturesque. I read the menu outside. Hmmm... Cunard. It's time for DUCK. Yes, I envision a nice roast duck, potatos, garnishes, the works. In the heartland of France, none the less!! This will be great.
I am seated at a table, and order the Cunard. It's ok that it will cost me €50. I deserve this, haven't had a real 'sit down' meal all day, for several days for that matter, so what's 50 euros? Money invested, for sure. Invested in memories of a great meal.
I sit there at the table waiting, eating bread, drinking eau mineral. At last, my cunard arrives.
Huh? I expected a nice large roasted duck. Instead is a small slice of what looked like SPAM.. you know, the CANNED fake HAM? Maybe it is really good, I thought. After all, this is €50 euros. FIFTY EUROS for a slice of SPAM. I take a small bite. Pure fat. Like eating a chunk of lard. Ohh, the garnish on the top, a clear jel. I gingerly cut off another piece and dip it in the clear jel. Alcoholic smell. Horrid. Just horrid. I mess up my plate enough to make it look like I ate something, whip out my fifty euros, smack it on the table and disappear into the night. They got me. Ripped me off, they did.
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