Qu'est que c'est en Francais, silly?

I thought packing up the beret and swearing off Perrier was enough. I'd resigned myself to choosing American cheddar over brie, passed on the Bordeaux and patted myself on the back for already disliking French onion soup. And hey, I can stop bemoaning the fact I'll never get a reservation to Napa's The French Laundry -- it's obviously a snooty restaurant reserved for anti-American Francophiles who wear French cuffs.

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