Coq au Vin in the Schnoz

My summer Parisian fantasy (on hold for now, more on that later) continued with adventures in French cooking. Jonathan has taken over, because he is the one who turns out to have a real gift for those deep, nuanced, rich, finger-lickingly good sauces. Last Sunday, as the stars arrived for the Oscars, he pulled out Julia Child's Art of French Cooking--a gift from my mother--and announced he was going to make Coq au Vin.

How could I refuse?

He started cooking and the house smelled so good I was wandering around salivating. There was chicken, there was wine, there were mushrooms, butter, and other essential, but unidentifiable smells.

He hacked open the chicken and threw it in. This fabulous smelling brown stew just filled our house. Even the boys straggled in saying, "That smells good! What IS that?"

But for the first night, it was all for us. No sharing.

As I had the boys in the bath Jonathan shouted out.

"Come down!" he said. "Watch this!"

I rushed down. He was about to pour the brandy on top of the coq to do a little flambe.

"Closer," he said. "Just watch!"

I came closer. It smelled divine.

He poured in the brandy with a flourish. The flames leapt up. He leapt back, and threw his hand back to avoid getting burned. He got me right in the nose, with his beautiful 24 karat Lord of the Rings ring, which acted as an iron knuckle.

I grabbed my nose and my knees buckled.

It hurt so much I couldn't even cry.

He threw down his cooking implements and tried to comfort me. I didn't know if I would ever smell again.

But I could, and I did. My nose is still a little sore. But that may have been my favorite meal in five years. I don't even need the chicken. Just that magnificent sauce, sipped down by the spoonful. With a little red table wine.

Sacre bleu. Ooh La La.

J'aime beaucoup le coq au vin!