I love to tell this story. My wife and I were in a fine restaurant in Paris. This was 1971, we were on our first trip overseas, and , two years out of law school, were very new to fine , or even upscale dining. I ordered the bouillabaisse , my wife a salad. Both were delivered , along with a serving of what looked like salad dressing ( those of you familiar with bouillabaisse are chuckling already). She put the “ salad dressing” on her salad. In fact the “ dressing” was a garlic roux which is added to the bouillabaisse . Everyone around started going “non, non”. Someone explained to us what it was for. I was laughing, my wife was trying to crawl under the floor. The restaurantuer was incredibly gracious and insisted on replacing the salad despite my wife’s wanting to just eat it as is. She kept apologizing to the waiter, which totally endeared her to him. We tipped him well despite the “Service compris “ . We go to a restaurant with wonderful bouillabaisse about four times a year, and I still crack up when they bring the roux.

Note: my wife is hitting me on the head as I write this , saying I should say I ordered the salad, but that would be silly. I don’t like salad.