For family dinners, I’m always in charge of dessert. Today, it’s going to be raspberries with cream. It’s easily prepared, I open the fridge for the cream and the freezer for the raspberries, and I’m done. And then, all while sipping Chardonnay, I witness the rest of the meal being prepared, artichokes are being cooked, a vinaigrette is being composed, lots of French mustard and Italian olive oil form a beautiful entente cordiale, parsley from the garden is being “haché-menu”-ed, ever so fresh chanterelles are being cut, not from the garden but from the grocer, the table is being set, by whom actually, my father, I suppose, gee, that Chardonnay is really drinkable, and all of a sudden, I’m the last one missing at the table, I better join them, hey, they’re are having red wine, okay, fine with me, bon appétit.
A truly delightful piece of writing and one to linger over and savour. It reminds me of those Flemish still lifes where everyday objects, especially food, become true works of art. I feel like a secret onlooker somewhere in the garden, watching while all this is being prepared and tout n’est qu’ordre et beauté. Sadly, dinner has started without me but I hope one day I can call upon you to prepare dessert.
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