One
of the few English words that my French other-half has mastered is
“pastrami.” Which in his defense, is just fine because most Americans
that speak little, if any French, can easily say baguette, croissant,
tarte au citron, and macaron before they head to France. Seems like both
cultures knows where their priorities lie!
So
when I hear “Daveed, je veux du pastrami,” I look into those sweet little
brown eyes, misting over a bit, I realize that I have to get him some.
And some for myself, too — although I am a corned beef guy. But it’s hard
to explain “corn” and “beef” (in French, bœuf maïsé doesn’t quite sound as
appetizing), so I just go with le
flow.
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