The Return to Chez Georges

Years ago, when Fred and I went to Chez Georges, it was our last dinner in Paris. Fred insisted on reading the french menu as he was adamant that he was up to speed with his french. I opted for English knowing that although I took French for more years than I care to share, language is not my thing, unfortunately. He ordered what he thought was veal and it turned out to be calves balls laden with cream. It was hilarious when the waiter told Fred who was taken back when the entree came, what he had ordered. I had no problem with them ( the balls ) so I switched with Fred but it is a memorable story and has been told in the family lore a few times. So when we walked in the restaurant, it made me laugh.