Ewe Must Love The Risk

The dining room is exquisite. Hand carved, tall backed chairs, long, elegant table just at the right height for nearly everyone. The silverware is actually silver, and I'm nearly positive the china is actually bone china. The kitchen door slides open and my host slowly turns as he hefts a fine brass soup bowl, steaming fresh from the stove. "It's a delicate Tomato bisque, with some fresh herbs. Do be careful, it is quite hot." He smiles largely as he serves it into my shining china in front of me. "There's a fresh loaf resting on the counter in there, if you'll be a dear and wait just another moment, I'll grab it." He spins and silently marches back into the kitchen. I haven't the patience to wait, since this soup smells divine. I sip lightly on a half spoonful. "This is absolutely incredible! You've outdone yourself, Dr.Lecter."