Jean-Claude missed his home in Paris, France. He missed everything about Paris, including the food and hearing his native tongue spoken. He had accepted a cooking gig as chef at a local French restaurant in Madison, Tennessee, and the culture shock was hitting him pretty hard.
When he remembered the feeling of electricity from off the very streets of Paris, he just wanted to walk down the Champs Elysee again, head toward the Iron Lady, as the Eiffel Tower is known, and simply look out over his beautiful home. But, alas, he had signed a contract for three years, and his reputation would take a serious hit if he broke the contract for homesickness. What was he to do?
Jean-Claude decided that if he could not be in Paris, he could certainly enjoy the taste of Paris, so he went to the nearest store and bought the ingredients for his world-renowned French pork pie. Armed with baking potatoes, ground pork, bay leaf, onion, cinnamon, cloves, celery, salt, and frozen pie crusts, he prepared his favorite, enjoying the aroma that permeated the whole of his apartment.
When the pie came out of the oven, he sliced a large piece for himself, opened a nice bottle of French wine, and savored every bite and sip. He pretended that he was sitting at a little table at a quaint little restaurant in Montmartre appreciating the food and the beauty of the white-domed Basilica of the Sacre-Coeur. Ah, yes! Bon appetit!