In Over Her Head by Elsie Russell - Parnasse.com

her swirl of sea foam Dior drinking oysters like some creature trawled
in from the ocean depths, he settled into the show and his part in it.
The lobster came on its silver platter, bursting politely from its
shell and surrounded by a tumble of mostly ornamental greens to make
it seem as if it had washed up from the deep like this and then been
casually tossed, boiled red and perfectly splayed, onto this silver platter.
They prepared to eat it by attaching starched white bibs around
their necks. The instruments of dissection were placed one by one in a
precise arrangement next to their plates, pliers and curved pointed
extractors and dainty forks for dipping the flesh in the melted butter.
For him it was as formalized as the Japanese tea ceremony. Not
for her. Penny cracked her claw, she had the bigger one, wrenched out
the meat and cut it into bite size bits that she lined up at the side of her
plate, dipping each one before popping it in her mouth. That was how
it was done at the Red Lobster Surf n' Turf specials and it seemed
civilized enough to her. There were no baked potatoes in foil with
chive and imitation bacon bits here, but on a side plate there was a
small pyramid of white baby potatoes that looked like they had each
been individually carved. The pyramid was dotted with fresh pats of
melting butter, sprinkled with minced parsley, and the aroma of the
parsley had her wondering how it was done with snails, because
Antoine kept a little house, more of a cage, nothing Palladian, filled
with relatively spunky snails. He fed them flour to fatten them up, so
eventually they would end up on a plate with garlic and parsley. She
would have to order them someday just to find out, and hope they
weren't too much like boogers. She stifled a laugh thinking of these
stuck up couples in diamonds, extracting parsleyed snot from snail
shells with funny little forks.
He chuckled to himself across the table at her private
amusement. It was so easy to make him happy.
The princess lived on the Isle Saint Louis, next door to the
Rothschilds, in a limestone mansion complete with carriage house and
stables.
The ballroom was painted a dull robin's egg blue, and
everything else was white and gold. Even the floor was of white marble
and light caramel onyx, converging into a central sun. Chandeliers
blazed overhead, and long white linen covered tables laid with silver
platters, full of finger food, or glasses of bubbly and other liquors, and
there was a table with party favors in colorful polka dots and stripes.
Even the caterers were dressed in blue satin knee pants and white
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