In the weekend, Heat came to the country to Bobrov on the "bozhole nouvo". Both families have been friends for a long time, were, what is called, held and, having discovered for themselves, over time, the joys of gastronomic tours around Europe, began to celebrate this French holiday. Last autumn they gathered with the Warms, and this time they took the Bobrovs, who tried not to hit the dirt with their face. The table was broken with delicacies that would envy any Paris family. Several types of cheese neighbored with meat products and fish delicacies, over which a large bottle of whiskey with a woolmaker in a sweater on the label. Everything was at height.
Oh the oligarchs! - enthusiastically exclaimed Teplov raising a bowl with a goat pastet - the foa-gra they have, wow, level!
- Yeah, they, with these sanctions - pretending to be angry, a happy hostess waved her hands, pouring wine on high glasses - nothing is right now, well, we have at least a familiar in "Lux Gurme" manager, she earns. Let’s go for an aperitif.
Everyone friendly drank a glass of thermic young wine, snacking the canapés offered to them with pieces of pastet and pineapple.
- Mda - the owner of the house dropped on the back of the chair - foa gra. And remember how in the nineties, you and I went out and went to the market together, so that it was cheaper to buy a bucket? Here, let us eat it now.
“Yes,” his wife said, “it was a time, God did not bring.
Yes why? - unexpectedly objected to Teplov - I really liked that cushion, I would not refuse now.
Skeptically whispered Bobrov – let’s, let’s. I can offer you another alcohol "Royal", I recently found my snail in the basement here.
- And what - Heaplov stubbornly - a bowl... and I can swallow the spirits, it is you have offspringed here in full, you can not live without parmesan.
I am? - Bobrov was upset - yes, so you know, I don't eat this cheese at all, it's only blue, and it's a bit more, the smell of interrupting.
“Wow, wow,” he laughed, kicking his head at a bottle of whiskey standing, “you are drinking Scottish whiskey, but you can’t drink alcohol.
Am I not able to? I shouted angrily offended Bobrov, was it me? Well, let’s take that alcohol,” he said to his wife, “and look at the cellar there in the basement, I seemed to have seen it.
Let’s go, what did you come up with? I reacted calmly, yes, I won’t go anywhere.
After a brief quarrel, realizing that it was useless to argue with his wife, the angry Bobrov himself went to the cellar, returning with a dusty bottle of alcohol and a bowl of pearl meat.
Have you gone crazy? - His wife was outraged - I'll give this meal to the dog of the neighbor!
– No fig – Bobrov cut off, putting a cold look on Teplov – it is for me instead of a snack, I will only warm up.
“Give me a snack,” he replied, adding, “you can even get cold.
I am cold too! Bobrov said angrily and, shaking the hamon that was broken down there from his plate, threw the gray clumped mass on her from the bench. After that, he opened the "Royal" bottle and poured the alcohol into a couple of free wine glasses.
The women, swirling, covered their noses with their hands, and the host with the guest tightly, as if from a seat, looking at each other, raised high glasses with alcohol and drank, snacking brown bits of cold pearls.
Well how? Bobrov breathed out, turning the glass up the bottom – can’t I? I can eat without eating, unlike some people. More maybe?
Of course! Heat, what are you asking?

A couple of hours passed and there was complete harmony. The women, talking peacefully, drank tea somewhere in the kitchen. In the hall on the festive table drowned almost untouched foreign delicacies, which looked at from his label a surprised volynnik, and both friends, having drank a liter of alcohol and drank all the pearl, choked friendly on the wide sofa standing in the corner.
The French “Bozole Nuovo” festival, as always, succeeded.
by robertyumen