I've just, as we say in the paper biz, filed and I'm glancing at the photo I took of some foie gras yesterday evening at a local finery eatery of expensively preparedly foodstuffs. Late as always, my paper called for the request and, having worked in the other biz which makes the world go 'round (the restaurant biz) I knew to call and schmooze the chef de cuisine, which I did. Upon my arrival I silently walked up their grand staircase to their upstairs banquet room. I set up lights and the shot and went downstairs to ask the hostess to tell chef de cuisine that I was ready. I had wondered upstairs how many joints I could walk in silently and set up lights and all unnoticed or how long I could hang out without anyone caring. Maybe bump around and have some free snacks, take some photos and move along. I am skillful at being invisible when need and want be.
So chef comes up with the to-be-shot food and it's foie gras with truffle-whipped potatoes, pomegranate, pea tendrils, fried salsify, shaved white truffles, and lavendar and honey glaze. Et voilà: the most expensive little plate of foie gras for miles around. I shot it, I must say, sumptuously. He and I talked as I shot and he asked if I'd like to take the food. I said yes. But I was amid a juice fast and took it anyway. Upon arriving back chez moi I gave the expensive snack to my outdoor-living cat friend named Extra - now he thinks I absolutely rock. I didn't tell him that they force-feed the goose to make the liver swell to make this treat..