After our picturesque adventures in Colmar, we boarded the train back to Paris where we spent five unbelievable days. We barely escaped with our lives trying to visit the Jellycat Patisserie. We scaled the Eiffel tower at night. We watched New Year’s Eve fireworks from the Champs d’Elysee. We took a fun and educational walking tour with Pierre. We visited the Louvre with a guide who was a Spurs fan– we let it slide. We saw a show at the Moulin Rouge where Auntie Alesia gave Jacob his first small glass of champagne. And more nudity than they’d bargained for. The look on the boys’ faces was absolutely priceless. The football fans toured the PSG stadium. The kids went shopping in a fancy Parisian department store. We bought chocolates. We bought Eliza’s weight in butter. We ate big lunches and big dinners and tried all the things.
One evening we arrived at Chez Georges on Boulevard Pereire for dinner. Our waiter spoke fluent French but was a confident, elderly British gentleman. We proceed around the table, he gets to Nate, and Nate orders the Calf’s Head.
The waiter presumptuously declares, “No. You won’t eat it.”
“Nate, is that what you want to order?”
“Yes, I’ll eat it.”
The waiter continues to tell my son what he can and can’t have.
“Why?” I ask, “Is it disgusting?”
“Madam, it wouldn’t be on the menu if it wasn’t delicious.”
“Nate, you order what you want. You get to decide.”
Nate orders the calf’s head. Because he’s Nate. He’ll try any food. Brains, tongue, beef cheek? Test him, Mr. Belvedere.
Jacob orders the duck. The rest of the kids order the usual. Everyone’s looking forward to what’s coming next.
Our dishes come and Nate’s is not what I expect. Maybe it’s the beef tongue? Mr. Belvedere is too busy to check on us so I can’t ask him. Jacob has a hefty Staub pot placed in front of him. Everyone digs in.
When everyone’s plates are empty, Mr. Belvedere stops by. I flag him down. “I don’t understand– the calf’s head wasn’t what I was expecting.”
The man goes over to Jacob’s pot and pushes the fork around. There’s nothing left. We all gasp at this surprising turn of events. Mr. Belvedere provides some excuse, blaming Jacob, for why they served the calf’s head to the wrong kid. Nate feels ripped-off. But nothing an entire plate of profiteroles drowned in liquid chocolate can’t soothe.
No one believed Nate would order the calf’s head. They were even more surprised when Jacob ate the entire thing, no questions asked.
Raise adventurous eaters. Check.