Everyone complains about airline food, but I truly enjoyed the "last supper".
That's the dinner I had on the American Airlines flight over. Filet mignon,
potatoes, salad, salmon, sorbet and champagne: can't beat it. I guess I knew
that on my tight budget I had better enjoy it while I could. And I was
right. Don't tell any of the other Film Scouts but I have been saving my
baguette from breakfast to eat with my home made chicken salad for lunch.
Chicken salad, you say? Well, the flight attendants on American do this all
the time. While still in the US, you buy tins of chicken with flip tops,
pick up packages of mayo, salt and pepper at the local Burger King and then
if you want to get fancy you add a lunch pail size box of raisins. Voila!
Lunch is served on the balcony. Not exactly lunch on the terrace of the
Majestic, but serviceable. It helps to be able to buy a soda or a snack but
the stores in France have a unique philosophy: close when you want. Very
few shops post hours and even those are flexible. I learned this the hard
way. (Do I ever learn the easy way?) Planning to get a few things from the
little grocery next to the hotel for dinner, I ducked around the corner to
check out the menu of a friendly restaurant. After realizing that the menu
was out of my price range, I turned to see the grocery locked up for the
night. But there are lots of Vietnamese-Chinese places with reasonable
prices and to my delight, great food.
Across the street from the Hotel Touring is the Cafe Casanova, home away from
home. They serve European pizza which resembles a communion wafer with
tomato sauce and cheese. If you want extras, stay away from the olives. We
must add sugar to ours, because the ones here are very bitter. But the staff
is very accepting of my lack of French. Oh, I've given up asking questions
in French, because people tend to answer in French. And how am I supposed to
understand that? Gad, I sound like the ugly American!
All the Film Scouts went to Cafe Roma for our second staff meeting which
provided me with a chance to try the Veal Milanese. In Germany we called it
Schnitzel, which is breaded veal. Henri poured the wine, everyone recounted
their computer troubles with signing on, and I savored every bite. Looking
out on the plaza at all the fashionable folks, I couldn't help but remember
what my Dad used to say when finishing a great meal, "Wonder what the poor
folks are up to tonight!?" Well Dad, we are having chicken salad, on the
Back to Cannes Film Festival Diaries
Suggestions? Comments? Fill out our Feedback Form.