DOUGHBOY

"I think you'll like it Dad. It's called Panera."

My daughter Carolyn knows me well. Any restaurant that specializes in bread is right up my alley. For some reason, I'd never been to one before even though there's a Panera location just fifteen minutes from our house.

As we entered the Barrie eatery for lunch today, the homey smell of fresh bread wafted over us.

"We don't take a seat?" I asked, looking at a short line of people standing before what looked like a take out counter.

"No Dad," Carolyn said. "You make your order first then they bring it to you."

Sort of like a Tim Horton's with waiters, I thought to myself.

In a few moments, we were placing our orders; Terry opted for a salad, Carolyn some squash soup and a sandwich.

My choice was easy.

"The French onion soup combo please," I said.

"Would you like that in a bread bowl sir?" asked the young gal behind the counter.

The question caught me off guard.

"A bread bowl?" I repeated.

My daughter quickly intervened, an embarrassed look on her face.

"Dad, the soup can come in a bowl made out of bread if you like."

"They can do that?" I blurted. Now I was the embarrassed one.

"Ok, sure, yes," I said, failing miserably in my attempt to sound nonchalant.

"Would you like a salad, an apple or a baguette to complete your combo sir?"

"Oh, make that a baguette," I replied cheerfully, now back up on my skates again.

Or so I thought.

A few minutes later, our orders arrived.

Terry salad looked great. Ditto for Carolyn's soup and chicken sandwich.

And my plate?

Well, let's just say it wasn't what I expected.

Beside the soup were a circular tuft of bread as well as a long stick of bread.

"What's that clump of bread doing on my plate?" I wondered aloud.

"That's the top of the loaf they used to hold your soup," Carolyn explained, the trace of a smile on her face.

"And this stick of bread? I thought I ordered soup and a sandwich like you."

"Dad, you asked for a baguette. There's no sandwich if you order the bread bowl for your soup."

"Really," I said in disbelief.

"But isn't a baguette a sandwich?"

"Really Mike," Terry now teased. "And here I thought you were the one taking French classes."

"Yes... but...but...just look at my plate. I have soup in a bread bowl, a piece of bread from the top of the bowl and a long stick of bread to go with them. I know this place is about all bread but even the Pillsbury doughboy would never have made an order like this."

By now we were all laughing.

It brought to mind our last visit to the Mandarin with our grandchildren Audrey and Noah who filled up their plates with both French fries and mashed potatoes.

Fifteen minutes later, the meal was completed and yes, my plate had been reduced to a few crumbs.

Hard to believe?

Well, one thing is certain.

If I keep having lunches like that, I'll begin looking like a Pillsbury doughboy in no time.

And all because I didn't study my French this morning.