Tuesday, May 10, 2011


I have figured out finally why Gordon Ramsey jumps up and down when he yells. Let me explain , Gordon , who we do not know, used to be a soccer player. He is waiting for someone to lob the ball in his direction . I don't think I have ever seen a relaxed chef. They are a little hyperactive.What causes that ? Maybe the time that it takes garlic to burn and turn bitter? I don't know. But they all are including my ever loving, who is wonderful when he is in control. Ask him to wait and see, and you have a mad man on your hands cooking enough to feed a small army .

Do you know what a farce is ? I thought that I did until this evening when Jean Paul called and asked that we postpone our evening plans because there was an urgent matter that he had to discuss with Henri. He had an errand to run but would call us before he came over.

The first hour went by okay , then Henri began to fidget, pacing between the door and the kitchen , I told him to call his father and tell him that tomorrow night would be better. But does he listen? Ha! No, he pulls his knives off the magnetic strip amd begins mincing shallots, carrots and thyme . He put some oil into a heavy saucepan and sweated these for 5-6 minutes. Then he took it off the heat for it to cool,

He pulled the halibut from the fridge and tortured some innocent scallops into slices. But was that enough ? Of course not. He drops the chopped up fish into a food processor adding the cooled mixture from the first pan ino the fish and processed it until smooth adding cayenne and white pepper. He put the processor bowl into the fridge and set the timer for an hour.

All the while glaring at the telephone. I tried to draw his attention to the television in the living room instead of redirecting his anger toward some unfortunate shrimp and salmon which he cut up into pieces and added it to his farce which was the mixture in the bowl, He piped this mixture into presoaked sausage casing and tied it off.

For the next quarter of an hour , he poached these in boiling water. And it looked like the hapless phone might be next. He packaged these up after they had cooled and took them upstairs to serve for lunch tomorrow with a sauce made of butter, shallots, white pepper , vinegar and saffron. It smelled good enough but not what we had planned for the evening's meal.

The phone squeaked once when he was upstairs and he jumped from cafe level to flat level (about eight feet straight down) . Of course , it didn't make a sound once he was on the same level  as the phone. and the caller's number was blocked. This did nothing to improve his mood.

I settled in to watch tv , starting to change from the low cut black  dress that he had chosen for our evening out, into my Tinker Bell pajamas so that I could work on a baby blanket while watching RuPaul's Drag Race.

" No, No ,No " he shouted at me " Papa will call ,then we can go out . If you wash your make up off, we have to start again. " Half picking me up , he shuffled me back into the bathroom where he proceeded to stuff me back into my dress. In the midst of this, he got the baby yarn tangled around his left ankle and ripped out about a block and a half of crochet. If that weren't bad enough , he got his right sleeve stuck in the zipper of my dress and we struggled gymnastically to get him free without ripping my dress. He wasn't listening to anything that I was saying, until I reminded him that the dress fit so much better when not over Tinker Bell Pajamas. He unzipped the dress again, leaving me to dress myself for the second time that evening. I emerged better than ever.

Exhausted, he collasped into the overstuffed chair in the living room . He was hungry, angry and he hated the way that the evening had gone. There was a major sulk going on. I sympathized, neither Christopher Lee nor Frank Langella had ever had this problem .  I went over to him , pulled his head onto my shoulder. I whispered the words to him that I had wanted to say to him all evening.

" Henri, sweetie, lets just go out and get a bite. We can come right back. "

He glared at me as if I had betrayed everything that he believed in. " Papa said that he would call."

" You're right, " I agreed, " Your father always calls before he comes over ." My beloved husband gloated silently at his victory.

" But, Sweetheart, its a cell phone," I smiled " We can get the call wherever we are and he has a key."

Thunderstruck, my horrified husband regarded me " I hate you" he muttered.

I handed him his jacket. " The night awaits ," I smiled.

" Yeah, yeah, shut up" he said as he checked his pocket for his  keys.

So I hope that you all enjoy the Seafood Sausage with Saffron Beurre Blanc at lunch tomorrow.

Remember to turn your cell phones off before you order.

Bon Soir et Bon apetit,
Arina Copain
Office Manager

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