callistra | This thing should be Mandatory Reading (Yes, still reading Atlanta Nights)

I love this:

Penelope Urbain knew the place — it was French, continental, lit by candles, elegant and intimate; she’d gone there once, alone, and eaten Saucisses de Francfort by a window in the back that looked over the moonlit garden . . .

Ok, ... Saucisses de Francfort, eh? I was ... suspicious... Francfort? As in ... Frankfurt? As in... Yep. She had frankfurters by a window at the back that looked over the moonlit garden....

Thanks googletranslate. I'm STILL chortling over that one. How romantic!!

--edit--

Ooo, another one.
Deux ouragans, si vous plait. Double fort.
Apparently gets translated into:
Two hurricanes, if you plait. Double extremely.

Bruce Lucent limped out onto the patio in the hot light of the late afternoon sun, carrying a tray where a mound of freshly chopped up hamburger gleamed red and wet like a pile of bloody spaghetti, and put the tray down on the gleaming glass patio table with its matching set of six wrought-up iron chairs, where Penelope Urbain sat with her long legs as graceful as the fronds of a willow tree crossed in a provocative pose that made him think about last night and the passion they’d shared hour after hour till the turgid light of dawn folded down over Atlanta like the petals of a bloody rose and they were both too exhausted to move another muscle.