Gus: "It tastes like..."<br />Me: "Food."<br />Gus: "Yes, precisely. It tastes like food, excellently prepared. But it does not taste, how do I put this delicately...?"<br />Me: "It does not taste like God Himself cooked heaven into a series of five dishes which were then served to you accompanied by several luminous balls of fermented, bubbly plasma while actual and literal flower petals floated down around your canal-side dinner table."<br />Gus: "Nicely phrased."<br />Gus's father: "Our children are weird."<br />My dad: "Nicely phrased.