From Nouvelle Cuisine (1991)Cover | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4
What’s Happening in Dundee
While Domaine Drouhin was sporting the first allFrench cellar crew in Oregon, Cameron was picking its Estate Vineyard with the first all-French vineyard ensemblage. Having lured teachers from Portland’s French-American School to Dundee with tales of grapes and romance (Romance de raisin), Cameron was able to provide them with abundant grapes but the teachers were still looking for the romance part at day’s end. Not Teri, however. Shortly after the male portion of the crew removed shirts and moved through the vineyard parlezing en franqais, Teri seemed to pick up renewed vigor for the picking process which had been sadly lacking over recent years. The harvest also got her mind off a matter which has been a significant mental torment of late. It seems that in the course of moving a mattress, Teri ripped that little tag off which clearly states, “DO NOT REMOVE UNDER PENALTY OF LAW.” She claims that it was an accident. but unfortunately no one was there to witness the act. We didn’t believe Anita Hill; should we believe Teri?
Deb Hatcher has had to bear the burden of marriage to a macho male sportsman extraordinaire. First it was Bill “Testosterone” Hatcher going out one-on-one against the Japanese logs in the Willamette River as he honed his skills in sculling. Next it was risking his body against the cruel knee-deep currents of the Umpqua River as he set his cunning against that of steel-head man-eating trout. In between these bouts of heroism he has managed to total his car while trying to save a damsel in distress and has survived a deluge of runaway barrels onto his person. As if this were not enough, rumor has it that Bill has been embarking headlong into that most macho of all machismo sports: golf without a golf cart.
And what of John ‘I’homas? It seems that a cat which hangs around the abode of JT has been giving forth numerous litters of kittens. A rash of advertisements has appeared at the Red Hills Cafe in Dundee offering new model cats at reasonable prices. Not wanting to cramp his cat’s stvle, John was heard speaking recently of a solution to his pro~lem. It seems that he intends to insert a copper b-b up a certain orifice (possibly making medical history with the first kitty lUD). Various questions have surfaced regarding this plan: First, is this a very mellow cat?
Second, assuming that the first is an emphatic “yes,” what keeps the b-b up there’? Third, should we give him the necessary capital to take this cat to a vet?
Farming is a difficult profession. Economics are usually against you and if not economics there is the vagary of weather. Hours are long and what you harvest is rather dear. So it comes as no surprise that your archetypical farmer is not interested in sharing his crop with anyone or anything (such as a flock of birds). Larry Waide is such a farmer. Larry grows wheat in some parts of his farm, crimson clover in other parts, cherries, prunes and whatever else his father or grandfather might have planted on distant corners of the property. Robins like to eat his fruit, Starlings grain and anything else of edible nature, Jays love nuts, Cedar Waxwings like cherries and Swallows eat exclusively insects (doesn’t matter; they might pop in a cherry by accident). Larry is a pretty good shot and the word is out amongst our feathered friends to avoid his place. So it came as a surprise when a rather pretty bird stopped in to sample a bit of spilled grain as Larry was filling his silo. The bird was obviously not a local and made no move to leave when Larry went to get his gun. John Thomas happened to be in the vicinitv and noticed that the bird made no attempt to flee w~en he walked over to it. It was a pigeon and, in fact, it was a banded pigeon. Better vet, it was a tired and hungry Carrier Pigeon on route fiom somewhere to somewhere else. John pleaded for the bird’s life and Larry, being a liberal kind of guy, grumbled something and put his gun away. Somewhere out there exists a Carrier Pigeon Society which needs to send a thank-you letter.
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