Pantagruelian

Giant pheasants and thrushes, crisply roasted and garnished with rich sauces, a huge vat of potage de légumes, a tub of salade Niçoise, a side of bifteck drenched in gravy. This Pantagruelian feast, the doctor surmised, was a reflection of the frustration M. Testevin faced from the restrictions placed on his diet over the past years because of his liver condition.

What still remains a mystery is how she managed to put away the entire midday meal that I had left for her, Ted, and Bill. And that this Pantagruelian triple lunch in no way diminished the gusto with which she silently tucked into her dinner, doing more than justice to sundry delectable coals of fire contributed by Margot.

[H]e espied a heavily built woman waddling towards him eating a large meat pie. She looked like an earthy peasant from a Brueghel painting. / […] ‘I wonder if you could direct me to the Vice-Principal’s office.’ / ‘Yis, I can,’ she said, gravy running down her chin. […] / ‘Thanks,’ he said, wondering who this Pantagruelian lady might be.

Indeed, including the wines, liqueurs, coffee, tips, service charges and various taxes, this Pantagruelian feast which must have provided pleasant memories for the guests, cost us . . . a little less than two Swiss francs per person!

The soldier, however, indicated that I should begin eating, and after checking with my parents one last time, I sat down and dug into this Pantagruelian feast.