You really didn't think I would let you go, without your hearing it, now, would I, darlings??????????
It is a pity, when I was a young and tender thing, I did not meet Truman Capote. I think we would have hit it off. I probably would have slept with him--he was still kinda cute, then--not to mention his ego would have been flattered to death by my extensive reading knowledge of his work. He could have swept me into cafe society, and I could have used him to further my goals and ambitions. But, wait! You cannot kid a kidder. Truman was a smart thing, and would have caught on to my act, fast! So, he might have been the one to use me! We will never know now, I suppose! But what stories I would have had to tell! Not that I don't have enough to tell already, anyway!!!!!!!!!!!!
I did, however, attempt something of the sort, with Tennessee Williams. And I almost succeeded!!!!!!!!!!!
Back in the summer of 1970. when I was just 15, my parents and I took a trip to visit some of my mother's relatives in Key West. My mother just happened to have been born there, then moved up to New Jersey, and Highland Park, when she was about three. Now, Key West was not yet the gay resort it has become today, but one thing sticks with me--it was as hot as Hell on earth!!!!!!!!! My mothers major relations, the Lewins, lived in an enormous, and lovely, Victorian home on the main street of town--but they had no air conditioning! It was all ceiling fans! I can still recall the sweat pouring down my face, while eating the obligatory meal.
My mother's relations on the other, more modern, side of town, Charlie and Clarice, not only had air conditioning; they had social connections. Their son, Kermit, was at one time the Mayor of Key West. Directly in back of them, so I had been told, was a white house, where Tennessee Williams lived, while residing in Florida. He bought it in the Fifties, when the film version of "The Rose Tattoo" was shot there!
So, there I was, in my little white shirt, my little white shorts, my little white sneakers and socks, still a virgin, and looking like a mouth watering angel food cake. Especially to an old, but very famous, queen!!!!!!!!!!!
Without telling my parents, or anyone, I took a walk around the block, to Tennessee's house. If he were at home, I knew something would happen, so I was ready for that, but, just as with Capote, I knew Williams would have been charmed by the breadth of my knowledge of his work!
Alas, Fate, that inconstant jade, did me in! No one was at home, and by the time I returned to where I had started, my parents were furious I had just gone off, like that! And, when I told them where I went, they got hysterical!
Of course, darlings, had Williams answered that door, I would not have returned quite as soon, and would have had an altogether different story to tell!
Which brings me back to La Cote Basque!
The date was November 18, 1993, which was exactly twenty years just three months ago, and happened to be my 39th birthday. At this time in my life, convinced I was a confirmed spinster in the true manner of Geraldine Page in "Dear Heart," I decided if anyone was going to treat myself, it would be me. So, inspired by a glamorous coworker of mine, named Janice, I began to take my birthday off, and pamper myself. Over the years, the routine evolved into three stages--a fixed price lunch at one of the exclusive restaurants, a visit to St. Patrick's Cathedral, where I would thank God for getting me through another year, and pray He would get me through the next, and then an evening at the theater.
During this time, I had been to all the major places--Montrachet, Lutece, La Grenouille, La Caravelle, to name a few. And, of course, Le Cirque. But, in 1993, I had selected La Cote Basque, not only because it was time, but on account of the Capote story.
I walked in, was seated at one of the exclusive banquettes, and, thanks to my youth, the service staff was simply charmed by me, and treated me as royalty, which is a good thing, because I did not even have to demand it. At some places, I do!!!!!!!!!!
The meal was scrumptious, and sumptuous. If only I had known what I was in for! I started with a meat appetizer that looked light, but because of the sausage, was richer than it looked, once I consumed it. This was followed by their specialty--Cassoulet St. Jacques, served in a steaming casserole dish, a mixture of meat and fowl in a brown cream sauce, with white beans! It was heavenly, but again, so rich I could barely finish half of it! And you do NOT--let this be a lesson to the uninitiated out there--ask for a doggie bag at a place like La Cote Basque!!!!!!!!!
And I still had desert and coffee to get through! What was I going to do? At this time of life, I did not drink, meaning, to cut down on the bill at these places, I never drank wine! That is where they get you! Today, it would be a different story!
The logical thing, of course, was to order as light desert! So, I did! A peach tart, in fact, and it was the loveliest looking thing, thin, delectable, topped with fresh peaches, as they placed it before me, with my own personal pot of coffee, which you damn well better believe was poured for me! I had just reached for my fork, to eat the light desert, sure to cleanse my palette, when, out of nowhere, on both sides, appeared two servers. The first one dropped a huge glop of chocolate pudding atop the tart; the second placed a huge glop of whipped cream, atop that! My plate was so small, there was no room to scrape this off. Besides, I had an idea it would be an insult not to eat the whole thing. I was at La Cote Basque, after all.
So, I ate. And ate. It was good, but, oh, was I FULL!!!!!!!!!!! Then came the bill! You would think that would be worst part, but, darlings, let me tell you, it was not. The worst part was me arising, trying to move out from behind the table, walk across the room and pay it, because I was so stuffed with food, I was afraid I was going to puke all over the place!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Fortunately, for La Cote Basque, I did not. Once on the street, I began taking in huge gulps of air, praying to somehow make it through the rest of the day. And I had theater tickets that evening--New York City Opera was doing a staged version of Rodgers and Hammerstein's "Cinderella," which, in retrospect, was better than the current revival, as it stuck to the show, at hand!
I walked along the street, slowly, tyring to make my way to St. Patrick's Cathedral. I somehow made it, and once seated, I knelt, and prayed--not just for the usual stuff, but to stay well enough for the theater that night, and not vomit all over the place.
It wasn't exactly a miracle, but something did happen, I think. After praying, I sat in the seat, meditating. I either blacked out, or went to sleep, for suddenly I found myself coming to--it was time to wend my way to the theater. And I felt one hundred per cent better.
So, that is MY La Cote Basque story. Truman would have loved it, I am sure!
I only wish they were still in business, because, after my latest reading, I would love to go back there, for their Souffle Furstenberg (and that is Furstenberg, not Von Furstenberg, like Diane!!!!!!). Does anyone out there have the recipe? If so, post it on here, under comments, I am just dying to try it!
The Age Of Elegance shall rise again, darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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