It's not the exact picture; I found this one on the internet. In fact, I remembering the moon as being bigger.
Another thing we found in the room (along with the bottle of water and candy) was a menu.
I also found this one on the internet, as I did not consider the menu something of which I wanted a picture when we were there. This picture is too small for me to accurately read. The actual menu that we found in the room suffered from a similar problem--not legibility, but accuracy. We spent some time deciding what we would have. I forget now what we finally decided to have...but it sounded good.
When we arrived in the restaurant, we discovered a completely different menu. Apparently, the menu in the room was outdated; the selection upon which we had decided was not to be found on the new menu. We couldn't find anything on the new menu that interested us. Nevertheless, in our famished condition, not having eaten much of anything since our massive breakfast in Bayeux, we ordered something.
It was the kind of mistake that Americans probably make with frequency; we ordered hamburgers. They were one of the cheapest things on the menu. Our first meal at Versailles had been from McDonald's; in fact, our evening meal on the second night had been from McDonald's; both of those meals were fine. We failed to account for the fact that although the hamburgers were the cheapest things on the menu, they were way overpriced. Overpriced hamburgers are never good. We didn't account for the fact that a "chef" rather than a simple cook was preparing these burgers. A simple hamburger is beneath contempt for a "chef." A "chef" must expand, magnify, and supplement the plain ordinary hamburger. Rather than a simple but filling meal, the "chef" must concoct a masterpiece...and thereby completely ruin that acme of ordinary meat.
They patties glistened like varnished mahogany...and were nearly as tasty. Seriously, they had been seasoned, not unpleasantly so. But they were thick. It was like trying to eat a doorjamb in a bun. I removed the lettuce; it was that single, thin, dry-but-green leaf from the outermost edge of the plant; it's the kind of lettuce that many restaurants use to hide the real food, the throw-away wrapper--it gives color to the plate but is completely unpalatable.
The burger wasn't awful; it was just thick and strange tasting. A burger should be fun to eat, with dripping condiments that complement the flavor of the beef, the bun, the tomato, and the onion. (I don't enjoy pickles on hamburgers--this one was on the side). The ground beef should be the star in this culinary play; the other performers should all be in love with the meat and cling to it longingly. Instead, this burger was a real ham, upstaging all the supporting cast, and stinking up the show. None of the other players could rescue the great ground round patty from itself.
The fries were those thick, soggy pieces of lumber rejected by CostCo...but they were better than the burger.
The one redeeming aspect of the meal was Orangina.
They served it in a short bottle just like that one in the picture above, with glasses in which to pour it. I remembered Orangina from my stay some 30 years earlier. I remembered it as a flat, watery, orange-pulpy drink in a blue can. In spite of my rather tepid recollection of the drink, I wanted to try it again for nostalgia's sake.
The burger gave me a tremendous thirst. The drink hit my mouth like an artillery barrage, exploding with refreshing citrus flavor and carbonation. I fell in love with it. It was nothing like I remembered.
After we finished our meal--we had eaten most of the burgers because hunger had driven us to that extreme--we went back to the room. The aftermath of the meal is best described as extremely unpleasant in a gastrointestinal sense. I blamed the burger. I would later find out that the burger may have received a bad rap for that unpleasantness.
Next time: A Day in Paris
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