Alexander: I think this is the death of me — falling in love with a man on the West Coast and relaxing further into the blissful black hole of soft drugs and rampant socially acceptable alcoholism that is Portland.
foodies
Alexander, on June.
Alexander: And my semi-obscure French word for June is rightfully, in my opinion anyway, “frisson”.
Alexander, on Portland.
Alexander: The weather here is as tepid as the people and it’s resettling me into my malaise.
Two friends, on Arrabbiata
Cecly: Raj drinks Coca Cola out of an old pasta sauce jar. In my mind, this is next level hipster. However, I doubt hipsters would deign to buy Prego® Arrabbiata.
Alexander: Oh, rest assured, my personal drinking cups are fashioned from non-GMO, organic, single-ingredient peanut butter jars. I sincerely wish I were joking.
Two friends, on dates.
Cecily: I have been invited to a Franco-Algerian wedding this Spring!
Jonathan: Will there be dates?
Cecily: Sweet ones, or the kind that wear suits?
Charles, on one of life’s great challenges.
Charles: Don’t you love to think about things at McDonald’s? Paris is a movable feast, just like the double cheeseburger.
Two friends, on denouement.
Cecily: I’m hungry all the time. I don’t know why. I want a big bowl of pasta.
Charles: Please don’t be with child. Movies end with marriage and childbirth because nothing happens thereafter.
Two friends, on the balm of wine.
Charles: Paris has given me an unshakeable malaise.
Cecily: You need a tasting flight and some fromage, tout de suite.
Two friends, on sausage rolls.
Charles: I’m hilarious. For example: How do you make a sausage roll? Toss it down a hill.
Cecily: There’d better be pastry at the bottom of that fucking hill.
Raj, before Christmas dinner.
Raj: I couldn’t find some decent gin, so I got some dodgy cognac instead.
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