Sunday's Roast
Because I’m working under a deadline, Loïc has been cooking this week. He has been doing the shopping, and sinking large sums of euros into spectacularly expensive things like whole royal sea breams to eat on a weeknight.
He doesn't want me to know what he's cooking until it is served, he is very secretive, and won't let me in the kitchen. I smell something good or maybe something burning and go to see what it is and he comes running at me like a junkyard dog and stops me from entering. In many ways it has been simply a joy to just have to fluff my hair and sit down at the table and be served. So this is what life is like on the other side.
Loïc comes to the table with a nice roast beef for Sunday dinner and I start fiddling. 'Oh la la,' he moans, 'the food is going to get cold!' I struggle with the tripod, and tell him that the beef has to rest before carving anyway. The sun is coming out from behind a cloud and going back behind again, I push back the curtain with the broomstick, and he begins to fume with anger. I am trying to keep a level head, zoning him out. Now how did I have that f-stop set? Do I think bracketing today might be a good idea? The little voices are all chirping around me and flying about like tinkerbell faeries, and I almost forget Loic is there.
"How DARE you ruin my meal! It is going to be a failure because it is cold!" You have got to imagine Loïc saying this with his very sexy French accent, and even sexier when he’s angry. I stop, put the camera back by the fireplace, and pull up a chair to the table. There now. Let's have a nice Sunday dinner. He slices the meat.
I enjoy the beef’s rare, pure delicate expensive essence, heightened by fleur de sel while at the same time wondering if he's going to be upset because I brought the salt to the table. He hasn't salted his at all. He says, "It's missing something. What is it missing?" My mind starts to hum with the various things I might have done with this hunk of beautiful beef. I respond to him honestly. "This is the best roast beef I've had in ages, Lo. It is excellent. You really could not have done it any better." An embarrassed and beautiful smile crosses his face and he serves me some absolutely divine butter glazed carrots with parsley. Mmmm. Sunday roast.
Thursday's dinner
He doesn't want me to know what he's cooking until it is served, he is very secretive, and won't let me in the kitchen. I smell something good or maybe something burning and go to see what it is and he comes running at me like a junkyard dog and stops me from entering. In many ways it has been simply a joy to just have to fluff my hair and sit down at the table and be served. So this is what life is like on the other side.
Loïc comes to the table with a nice roast beef for Sunday dinner and I start fiddling. 'Oh la la,' he moans, 'the food is going to get cold!' I struggle with the tripod, and tell him that the beef has to rest before carving anyway. The sun is coming out from behind a cloud and going back behind again, I push back the curtain with the broomstick, and he begins to fume with anger. I am trying to keep a level head, zoning him out. Now how did I have that f-stop set? Do I think bracketing today might be a good idea? The little voices are all chirping around me and flying about like tinkerbell faeries, and I almost forget Loic is there.
"How DARE you ruin my meal! It is going to be a failure because it is cold!" You have got to imagine Loïc saying this with his very sexy French accent, and even sexier when he’s angry. I stop, put the camera back by the fireplace, and pull up a chair to the table. There now. Let's have a nice Sunday dinner. He slices the meat.
I enjoy the beef’s rare, pure delicate expensive essence, heightened by fleur de sel while at the same time wondering if he's going to be upset because I brought the salt to the table. He hasn't salted his at all. He says, "It's missing something. What is it missing?" My mind starts to hum with the various things I might have done with this hunk of beautiful beef. I respond to him honestly. "This is the best roast beef I've had in ages, Lo. It is excellent. You really could not have done it any better." An embarrassed and beautiful smile crosses his face and he serves me some absolutely divine butter glazed carrots with parsley. Mmmm. Sunday roast.
Labels: Fall 06, Sunday Dinners
by Lucy Vanel | 16:07
8 Comments:
ain't life on the other side great? :)
That roast really does look cooked to perfection.
Your blog & your photos are wonderful and I love your stories with each post!
Beautiful!
You let him in your kitchen? That would drive me absolutely crazy! I hate Seb in my kitchen.
Nice roast shot btw. Good shadows.
Such a luxury, isn't it?, to have him cooking for you. When Cameron cooks for us, it's simpler than I woul dhave made it, but no less tasty. And yes, it's hard not to think of the ways you'd have done it, or the ways you'd have economised. Oh, so familiar... thank you.
oh, this is so nice, to be on the other side! I love to be able to only put mes pieds sous la table! Lucky you!
Being cooked for is delightful, that the cook is your very own mari is bliss!
Loic seems to be a good cook. His roast almost makes me drool and i am a vegetarian!
- fanny
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