Chrome Horses and Diplomats

I'll invest a Benjamin on a special occasion dinner replete with appetizers and wine once every year or two, yet I've never set foot inside an attractive French restaurant near my home. Its thirty-dollars-an-entree price tag doesn't prevent patrons from packing the establishment most every night. The idea of wealthy people spending money on fine food and wine doesn't bother me. I'm tempted, in fact, to set up shop as a mendicant on the sidewalk outside the eatery.