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The Citizen, 1991-10-30, Page 5THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 30,1991. PAGE 5. k Arthur Black Something smells in Japan Fate is a notoriously fickle mistress. Thus it was that a middle-aged, soft-handed Ontario newspaper columnist could find himself, one glorious autumn day, lurching and gasping through the Rocky Mountain foothills chasing mountain lions. Belay that call to the SPCA, ma'am. I'm no hunter. The only weaponry I toted was a notepad, a ballpoint and three Elastoplast bandages in case of foot blisters. Two equally unarmed wildlife biologists and a dog handler named Ralph were in charge of the safari. Object: battery replacement. One of the cougars they were keeping track of — a three-year-old female named Angel — was wearing a worn out radio transmitter on a collar around her neck. The biologists hoped to find the lady, tranquilize her and replace the played-out collar with one that would beep for another year or so. We never did catch up to Angel, but we came close, thanks to Zed and Buford, a couple of bluetick hounds bred and trained to snuffle out big cats and chase them up trees. International Scene Did you like your Soupe Du Jour? BY RAYMOND CANON Over the years I have been asked countless times what the meaning was of some item on the menu. It is not because of any culinary expertise that I possess; my wife has been known to comment on certain occasions that I have difficulty doing anything more than boil water. It is simply that many of the menus that one finds in restaurants are likely to have some of their offerings written in French without sub-titles as it were. I recall once during my days of single bliss taking out a young lady to a swank restaurant; she confessed after looking at the menu that she didn't understand a single word. Needless to say I impressed her with my savoir faire in ordering the meal for both of us. If you are wondering just why it is that the French seem to have a monopoly of menus, the answer is simple. Fine cooking, or “haute cuisine” as it is called in French, had its origin in France and the people of that country, never hesitant in promoting their language when given half a chance, naturally opted to write as many things as possible in French, as if to emphasize the fact that English cooking was nothing short of atrocious. There are even English speaking people who would go along with this but that is another story. However, I am not here to allocate taste but simply to help you get through a menu in French to the best of your ability in the hope that you, too, can impress somebody. You don't have to tell them where you got your profound knowledge but some folding money to me c/o this newspaper would go over well in the Canon household. First of all you are likely to run up against the two expressions “table d'hote” and “a la carte”. These are used to describe the type of They're also good fci inducing massive coronaries in unsuspecting newspaper columnists. There I was, staggering and stumbling through the bush behind the experts, marvelling at the splendid sylvan silence unbroken but for spasmodic columnist wheezes when suddenly all hell broke loose. The air was shredded by the most ungodly howling and baying cacophony this side of an AC/DC concert. It sounded like a herd of Holsteins being fed into a sterephonic garburetor. With a lunge borne of long practice, Ralph loosed his dogs. “They've got the scent” Ralph explained. Indeed they had .. and it was a marvellous sight to behold. Zed and Buford, who until now had been plodding straight ahead with the rest of us, were now plunging back and forth like junkies in a poppy field. Within seconds they had locked, onto the cougar's scent, decided which direction it was headed in, and taken off after it, baying like bloodhounds on a Blitzkreig. I went through a lot of emotions in the Rocky Mountain foothills that afternoon, but the one I felt as I watched Zed and Buford, moist noses in the forest floor homing in on Angels spoor, was pure schnoz envy. How do they do it, I asked myself. And why can't we? By Raymond Canon meal that you are eating. The first simply means that you are going to choose a meal off the menu which has a fixed price. The meal will consist of several courses at a specified price subject only to tax (in Canada, taxes) and, of course, the tip. “A la carte” means that you choose specific items from the menu, each of which has its own price. The waiter or waitress will add up the price of all of them and enter them oh your bill. The menu is called “la carte”, and, when you want to pay, ask for the “addition”. Some people who think that the prices are very high are wont to ask for “la multiplication.” Unless you speak French fluently and have subjected to some rough service, avoid using this pun like the plague. It has been known to start revolutions. You will probably have to ask what the “soupe du joir” is. It changes from day to day and can be delicious. Perhaps the menu will also offer changes from day to day and can be delicious. Perhaps the menu will also offer “Vichyssoise” which is a leek and potato soup or “gazpacho” which is a Spanish vegetable soup. Both are served cold so don't call the maitre d’ if you see an iceberg floating in it. You should know the “hors de’ oeuvre,” those are the appetizers; some restaurants like to put on a different set of airs and call them “antipasto” which is the Italian word; the best thing to do is to act as if you knew this all along. Waiters can be snobs. I should know. I once was part owner of a fine restaurant and we had a few of them working for us. They like to engage in a bit of snobbery by asking you how you would like your meat cooked - If you hear the word “saignant”, that means “rare”; “bien cuit”, on the other hand, means “well done.” I could go on indefinitely but by now you should tyave the gist of things. I will tell you that there are few people around, extremely few, as a matter of fact, that know all the We had it once. Anthropologists tell us that our ancient ancestors possessed extremely sophisicated noses. Australian aborigines can still smell water where the rest of us would see only parched desert. What a wonderful skill it would be to be able to identify the proximity of relatives, friends, game and enemies, simply by lifting our beaks into the air and sniffing. Maybe we'll get back to it. Some American store owners are now pumping various scents into the air-conditioning ducts of shopping malls. They think nice smells relax shoppers and put them in a buying mood. Certain Japanese companies use aromas the way North American companies use Muzak. They waft the workplace with the smell of lemons in the morning to wake the workers up; rose at lunchtime to calm them down; and various herbal aromas to get them through the traditional afternoon slump. There's a name for this olfactory manipulation: aromatherapy. Not that it's new. The Japanese have known about it for centuries. The Ancient Greeks and Sumerians practised it millennia ago. We could have had it too, if only we'd opened our eyes. Or rather closed our eyes and opened our nostrils. Or consulted experts like Zed and Buford. meanings in French. Quite often the translation does not reveal anything so don't be embarrassed if you translate the expression and it does not give you any hint. I'll give you one example. Let us assume that you have a menu in front of you and you see “Escalope de veau chasseur.” You translate that correctly as “veal cutlet hunter style”. That tells you absolutely nothing whatsoever about what it looks like; it certainly is not going to be served by somebody dressed as Robin Hood. It simply means that you can expect to get a goodly serving of mushrooms with it compared to an ordinary cutlet when you get nothing approaching a mushroom. Don't be put off by the French. Over a period of time you will get to know a number of expressions and with practice you will eventually be able to order a meal in French without running the risk of being served an old boot or a dish rag. Even I have had embarrassing moments. I once ordered ice-cream in some small place in Quebec only to be brought some ice cubes with chocolate sauce on them. It turns out that their word for ice cream was not what we use in Switzerland. We had a good laugh about it all; a faux pas once in a while does nobody any harm. Letter to the editor policy Letters to the editor must be signed and the name must also be clearly printed and the telephone number and address includ­ ed. While letters may be printed under a pseudonym, we must be able to verify the identity of the writer. In addition, although the identity of the writer may be withheld in print, it may be revealed to parties directly involved on personal appearance at The Citizen's offices. Letter from the Editor By Keith Roulston It must be nice to be so certain One of the things that amazed me about the Clarence Thomas/Anita Hill sexual harassment case in the U.S. and other similar high profile cases, is how easily people on both sides became convinced of the certainty of their case. On one side, how could supporters of Judge Hill be so absolutely certain he was incapable of badgering his former employee to date him and graphically describing his own lovemaking techniques in order to impress her. On the other hand, how could all those liberals and feminists (and feminist liberals) be so sure that this man of previous high standing, was guilty as charged. Nobody was there to see. Yet people were ready to cononize Judge Thomas on one side and turn Anita Hill into a martyr for the cause of women's emancipation on the other. In most of these cases, you can virtually predict in advance who will come down on which side. It often seems that among feminist leaders, any man who is accused of sexual harassment or date rape, or physical abuse, is automatically guilty. On the other side, there are people who are ready to take the side of the man every time out unless he has left his driver's licence in an incriminating place. These cases keep popping up daily. There was the case last week of the student at a Nova Scotian university who had sex with three male students in a dormatory one night (good grief and my daughter is in a co­ ed dorm?) Later, someone complained. The police ivestigated. The woman claimed she had been raped. The police apparently didn't feel she had been. They charged her with mischief. The unversity intervened and insisted the charges be dropped. Women's groups insist the police department should be investigated for this sexist behaviour. There was the bizarre case in Toronto where a leading school officials had been having an affair with a woman but the affair had broken off. He called al her apartment. They ended up in bed. He said she seduced him. She said he forced himself on her. Later, they ended up in the bathtub together. Each says the other initiated the tub scene. At some point one thing is certain: she took a butcher knife to the offensive part of his anatomy. She says she was protecting herself from being attacked and grabbed the knife (though one wonders how many people keep butcher knives in the bathroom). He says she was crazy because they had broken up and wanted revenge. A jury agreed with his side of the story. Feminist groups said it showed how sexist the judicial system is. They made the woman subject of a poster in an annual campaign about male violence against women. When the woman was to show up in court to be sentenced, she skipped bail. I'm glad I wasn't on the jury. I'm not sure I'd like to have to believe one version of a story over another. That's the problem with trying to bring real justice to a crime that takes place between two people, alone, as nearly all crimes of a sexual nature are. It almost always comes down to her word against his. It's a situation that is rife with possibilities for injustice. Concerned women say that the current laws make it almost impossible to convict a man. They push for new laws. But lilting the law to put the burden on the defendant to prove his innocence rather than on the crown to prove his guilt could deny justice loo. It could get to the point that merely to accuse someone of a crime made him guilty. On the other hand, the Supreme Court's withdrawal of the rape shield protection means that innocent women can be grilled about their sexual history on the witness stand until it looks like it is they who are guilty, not the men who raped them. Only the wisdom of Solomon could solve this insoluable problem. It seems there are a lot of Solomons out there who think they have an easy answer, however.