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Ooh Muffy, please pass
me another one of those cream cheese and mint leaf finger sandwiches.
I'm soooo precious! I'm soooo French! I'm soooo dainty! Alright, now
that we have the fun out of the way, we can get down to business.
Payard is very fey. It's like eating lunch in Lewis Carroll's mind.
It's like a French cafe in fairyland. Despite being completely emasculated
by the experience, it wasn't an all-together unpleasant time. Granted,
Mr. Hipster was the only man within a White Shoulders breath of the
place, but these were women with gold-buttoned suits, hair helmets
and small dogs in their purses. These were women taking a break from
a busy day shopping for ascots on Madison Avenue. These were women
with hyphenated names that read like the roster of the Mayflower.
As expected, the sandwiches had very little stuff on them. (This ain't
no Jewish deli, you plebeian slob!) But the little that did exist
was tasty and deceptively filling. Mr. Hipster went for the 12-dollar
tart of "Champignons de Paris" with parsnips. For all of
you uncultured pukies out there, this is a fine mushroom and oniony-type
vegetable thingy with some sort of buttery stuff inside of an open-faced
pie shell. Delicioso! Take your grandma here, and she'll forgive you
for all those years of neglecting her in that awful home. [MF]
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