An Irish Coffee...in French

It was last Friday night at a cafe in Marseilles when American and French culture collided.Scott and I had just arrived from Lyon and, after a big meal of mussels, french fries, seafood salad, and spaghetti, he desperately wanted to beg off for the evening.Given that I had almost given us both heart failure the night before after our seven course "all parts of the pig" meal in Lyon, I couldn't blame him...plus he was working on some brewing head cold that should have caused me to be more sympathetic...but I wasn't."We are in Marseilles! It is a Friday night! Let's just go get one nightcap at one of those cool looking cafes on the other side of the water...just one...I promise!" I said."OK, you're right. We ARE in Marseilles and this is a Friday night...I could go with an Irish coffee if you are going to have another glass of wine.,..think they have those here?" Scott asked.OF COURSE! I promised, not knowing even remotely what I was talking about but assuming that an Irish Coffee just HAD to be pretty universal.So we rolled into a chic cafe on the water that was all white leather and blue mood lighting.I ordered my wine and Scott found and ordered an Irish coffee...What happened next was bizarre...My wine came, all normal, while in front of Scott was placed a big glass of fizzy water, an empty wine glass with a spoon and bunch of tiny cocktail stirrers, and a whole wad of napkins."What, exactly, do you think THIS is about?" he asked me. "What am I supposed to do with all of this water, these cocktail stirrers, and all of these napkins? Do you think I ordered something wrong?"No, no, I assured...it's fine.Then, very ceremoniously, the waiter returned with a balloon wine glass filled with about two inches of Irish whiskey with a layer of coffee grinds and cocoa powder on the surface... and a huge puff of whipped cream floating over it all.Scott was fed-up."Um, excuse me, Sir, what am I supposed to do with all of THIS, please?" he asked the waiter, barely contained."What do you mean? I have brought to you how to make yourself the Irish coffee! Here is the water, there is the coffee, there is the chocolate and here, HERE (tapping the wine glass theatrically) is the whipped cream...you make yourself the Irish coffee...this is a DEMOCRACY, afterall!" the waiter declared, with a flourish, while giving Scott a hearty pat on the arm.I sent up a silent prayer to the Universe as I knew, beyond a doubt, that Scott was about at his wit's end with this version of "Democracy.""Fifteen dollars, Patti...fifteen dollars so I could make my own Irish coffee out of...of...coffee grinds, whiskey, seltzer water, and whipped cream...fifteen dollars, Patti! I am in the Army but even this is a bit much..." he murmured.In the end, he scooped off the whipped cream, coffee grinds, and cocoa powder. He took the shot of Irish whiskey at one pull and had the grace to declare, "Well, it's damn decent Irish whiskey."Luckily, Scott has a amazing if quiet sense of humor so he was over it within about an hour.Two days later, as we were sitting in a Paris cafe having coffee, we heard another foreigner order an Irish coffee.We both sat expectantly wondering if our experience in Marseilles was isolated when the waiter returned with the very same bottle of seltzer, wine glass of whiskey, coffee grinds and cocoa powder topped off by whipped cream, and spoons and cocktail stirrers.I could not stop laughing but Scott was reflective."Think I should go tell him what's up with that?" he asked.No...let him learn...we had to.Remember, I said, we pissed them off with Freedom Fries and all that bullshit...Still...an Irish coffee should be universal...But, hey, France is a democracy.And it really is.