Cuisine III

You know that whole thing they used to do with sending a canary down a mineshaft to see if it croaked or sang? Yeah? Well, my culinary canary just fell off its perch and hit the floor with a sad little thud.

I have just had a dinner party trial-run and cooked a delectable coq au vin. Fucking delectable, I tell you. I followed this recipe to the letter; it took me over 2 hours – at the wrong end of a day in which I have driven 120 maniac-filled miles, moreover – and it turned out beautifully. The flavours were fabulous.

I summoned John to come and dish up, and he peered cautiously over my shoulder into the pan. A pan filled with chicken, cooked in red wine.
“That chicken’s gone a funny colour!” he announced.
“Eh?”
“It’s gone all… rancid-looking…”
“Rancid?!”
“Well, the skin’s gone all… red!” he exclaimed, before catching my cryogenic look and adding hurriedly “But I’m sure it’ll be lovely!”

We ate. I watched him out of the corner of my eye. I cleared my plate and faced him.
“Well?”
“Ummmm… I’m not… I’m not that taken with it.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“I’m, er… not sure. Perhaps the brandy. And the chicken’s… gone a funny colour.”

Sigh. It’s pointless trying to talk him into liking it; it’s simply not what he’s used to eating. And if he doesn’t like it, then none of them bloody will. I learnt my lesson over the goat’s cheese incident. Hubby pulled some mighty funny faces when I was preparing that, but I pressed on and served it anyway. 12  full-ish plates came back to the kitchen, in various states of toyed-with-ness. I felt… dejected. Almost sulky, in fact.

I’m not having a good culinary week. I cooked ratatouille yesterday, came to check blog feeds, got distracted, wildly overcooked it. Bugger. I also tried to cook half a butternut squash, completely forgot it was in the oven – are you seeing a theme? – and 2.5 hours later was attempting to scrape out the innards to mash. I reached for maple syrup, and remembered that John smashed my bottle, which I can’t replace because there’s a worldwide bloody shortage of the stuff. So I reached for the cinnamon instead, and managed to accidentally up-end half the wretched jar into the bowl. Arse.

I’m going to bed and back to the drawing board.

Advertisements
%d bloggers like this: