I made dinner for a lovely Chickadee a while back. Being strapped for cash, I had to improvise on the fare. I knew she had a taste for the finer things as she was dating me. I wouldn't get away with less than foie gras, but, alas, I didn't have the scratch for that kind of anatomy. I had to improvise. Instead of foie gras, I served a suitable mimic: NASA's AeroGel
Amongst my main course consternation was knowing her pallet would also insist on the top Pouilly-Fuissé. After many hours of video poker, it became clear to me that I would not be able to deliver such a Bacchusian treat. What did I do? A few generous spritzes from my Grandmother's bottle of White Diamonds by Liz Taylor into a ewer of decanted boxed wine saved the day. She was never the wiser.
Dinner went swimmingly.