Received an e-mail this morning from someone purporting to be a guest at Meg's greatly exaggerated foie gras dinner. I think it's important that I share this e-mail with my reading public because I value truth more than winning torchon tournaments. I wish I could say the same of Meg. Here's the e-mail:

"I was there at that dinner. She says she only invited two friends, but I was the third friend. Meg does things like that. She forgets that I exist. Oh did I mention that I'm her SISTER?

So to start she made us all sit on the floor. Then she made us each give her $50. We said it wasn't fair because she received the foie gras lobe for free, but she snapped and said, "Do you want your torchon or not?" She had that Meg look in her eye--the one that means trouble or death.

When she brought out the big tube of foie gras a horrible smell filled the air. Have you ever gone into a bathroom after someone's used it and lit a match? It smelled like that only ten times worse. And I suppose I could've gotten over that if the foie gras tube she was holding wasn't leaking blood. We asked her why it was bleeding and she said it was none of our business.

Then she sliced it and about 30 or 40 veins popped out. One hit her in the face. We asked her if she was ok and she hissed at us to "butt out." Then she served a slice of this "foie gras" with Smucker's strawberry jam which she insisted we pretend was a "sour cherry reduction." Then she brought in actors and a lighting crew and professional prop people and had them stage the pictures you see on her site. Meanwhile her real guests (did I mention I'm her SISTER?) had to share one slice of festering foie gras. I felt compelled to write because your foie gras looked so wonderful and Meg's was so awful. I wish I was YOUR sister.

Sincerely, Peg Hourihan."

THIS MESSAGE WAS APPROVED BY THE AMATEUR GOURMET