Word: bistro
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...tell bistro dropper, McPhee protected his sauces, revealing only that his special place is "more than five miles and less than a hundred from the triangle formed by La Grenouille, Lutece and Le Cygne," three of Manhattan's starriest caravansaries. He did not so much as hint where it might be. In New Jersey? Upstate New York? Pennsylvania? Connecticut? Staten Island? A mirage...
...near McPhee's home in Princeton, N.J. They sicced a stringer onto the story, says Prial. "He called politicians in the area, figuring they like to eat, too." Indeed. The gastronomic gumshoe tracked down a Pike County Republican bigwig who confirmed the team's suspicion that the bistro described in The New Yorker was the Red Fox Inn, in Milford, Pa. However, the legendary Otto had sold that hideaway last May and hoisted his toque over an old saloon in Shohola, Pa., that he rechristened The Bullhead. The inn is 90.5 miles from midtown Manhattan. The politician...
...Married to a former Iranian Minister of Culture, Mehrdad Pahlbod, she is constantly on the move, normally staying at her Beverly Hills mansion for only about seven or eight weeks a year. The princess entertains discreetly (dinner parties of 20 to 40) and favors such chic restaurants as the Bistro and Ma Maison, but apparently does her serious shopping in Paris...
...EARWIGS are giggling, did we hear a soft moan from one is yet-to-be-converted about how the business of government is business, or something, but certainly not gala parties and three-hour lunches? Nonsense we say. The dreary old Capitol building has nothing over the cute little bistro on M Street. If you find it just slightly barbaric that hundreds of newspaper readers every day revel in the personal and professional ups and downs of those in the proverbial public spotlight, well, you can always preface the names you drop from reading the Ear with a heartfelt...
...four competing groups, each trying to explain its quarrels to an increasingly indifferent electorate. As a result, the Frenchman's distrust of politicians deepened. "Left or right," shrugged the owner of a small porcelain shop in Paris' middle-class 18th arrondissement, "it's the same salad." Complained a nearby bistro owner: "The politicians always make a deal. Don't worry about that." In short, for many voters the campaign had become political Grand Guignol, masking power deals that were too arcane to fathom...