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TheLuncheon 101 ‘Neither do I,’ I answered promptly. ‘Except white wine,’ she proceeded as though I had not spoken. ‘These French white wines are so light. They’re wonderful for the digestion.’ ‘What would you like?’ I asked, hospitable still, but not exactly effusive. She gave me a bright and amicable flash of her white teeth. ‘My doctor won’t let me drink anything but Champagne.’ I fancy I turned a trifle pale. I ordered half a bottle. I mentioned casually that my doctor had absolutely forbidden me to drink Champagne. ‘What are you going to drink, then?’ ‘Water.’ She ate the caviare and she ate the salmon. She talked gaily of art and literature and music. But I wondered what the bill would come to. When my mutton chop arrived she took me quite seriously to task. ‘I see that you’re in the habit of eating a heavy luncheon. I’m sure it’s a mistake. Why don’t you follow my example and just eat one thing? I’m sure you’d feel ever so much better for it.’ ‘I am only going to eat one thing,’ I said, as the waiter came again with the bill of fare. She waved him aside with an airy gesture. ‘No, no, I never eat anything for luncheon. Just a bite, I never want more than that, and I eat that more as an excuse for conversation than anything else. I couldn’t possibly eat anything more—unless they had some of those giant asparagus. I should be sorry to leave Paris without having some of them.’ My heart sank. I had seen them in the shops and I knew that they were horribly expensive. My mouth had often watered at the sight of them. ‘Madame wants to know if you have any of those giant asparagus,’ I asked the waiter. I tried with all my might to will him to say no. A happy smile spread over his broad, priest-like face and he assured me that they had some so large, so splendid, so tender, that it was a marvel. Reprint 2026-27