World renowned tennis player and recent French Open winner, Roger Federer, is Swiss (in case you haven't heard). While he may be the darling of the Tennis world, he is the beloved hero of the Swiss world. Where, you may ask, am I going with this? Yesterday I witnessed an interesting event at a country club restaurant. Imagine a swanky banquet dinner complete with candlelit tables, white linens, polished silver, amuse bouche & haute cuisine, bottles of flowing wine and champagne, glasses clinking and the low murmur of quiet enjoyment. Now imagine plate after plate of freshly made sorbet balanced atop puffs of flaky tarts sitting at empty tables, melting away as only homemade ice cream can.
Where have the diners gone? They're all cramped into what would otherwise be a sizable lounge, watching their dear probably distant relative Roger Federer win his most recent trophy. They gasped, they sighed, they squeaked with tension, and at the denouement they burst into a roar of furious claps and cheers of wild abandon. The sorbet was left to its ultimate demise. The kitchen staff looked vexed as their works of art were being thrown into the trash bin, though they too had been watching their dear Roger bring home the glory for their homeland.
Hugs...
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