The danger of bad translation

Stopped for lunch in a cafe in Montmarte on Saturday.  Looked at the menu in French posted outside and thought it had good options for Zoe.  Asked for an English menu so Zoe could read and make a choice.

To my pure delight (and hers) the translation for the Salade de Chèvre Chaud was, get this – ‘Salade Goat Dung’

I would love to know how many orders they have received for this dish from English Tourists and that no one has ever pointed it out to them.  I told the waiter, who looked a bit confused until I explained that they were offering a Salad of Goat Shit.  He burst out laughing and took off with the menu.


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