“It ain’t a world war before the French surrender,” I read that over a forum
on the net. Everyone is rambling how this could the World War III, but the
French must first surrender their language. Not only do they not have a term
for “entrepreneur” according to George W. Bush, but also their language is
nicked and ripped. There’s a new term I learned from a trip to “Safeway”:
Sautéing.
According to wordsmith.org, it is defined as “To cook in a hot pan with little
oil, frequently turning or tossing. [From French sauter (to jump) as the cook
vigorously jerks the pan to keep the ingredients from burning.]”
However sauté, in the original French is not a verb, it is a past participle.
So “to sauté” is as incorrect as they come. But just like someone told me as
of late, “ditch your French when in the US, not everyone here likes Jerry
Lewis.” Pardon my French, if I speak it correctly.
Beirut is being sautéed. Fried in oil. Like that advertisement for the anti-
drugs campaign. “This is your brain on drugs. Any questions?” Yes, plenty of
them. Does anyone have the recipe? Is Jamie Oliver somewhere in sight? It
all looks like some grim part of Disney’s “Fantasia” with Mickey throwing in
the ingredients with no measuring whatsoever.
“I used to order measuring spoons from amazon.com” the voice said. “Just
because I was missing three dollars to qualify me for the free shipping.” And
then adding: “But now I know better. I just store everything in my cart and
only pay when I reach the free-shipping threshold. I learned some tricks you
know.”
Would you lend me one of your measuring spoons? Or do I have to steal
it like I did with the thrift store in Portland. They were colored, and I was
tempted. Not that it makes the theft forgivable, but it makes it palatable. Pal-
atable in the right doses. Doses measured with its own stolen spoons.
Sauté is pronounced so-TAY, it seems so-tie, much like tie-wreck. “I was
looking for anyone I know who is wrecked,” said the voice.
“I am.”
Take me.
As “I am.”