The love of cooking

                                                                                                                                                The love of cooking

The glorious sun of the south of France on the summer vacation had left an indelible impression on their morale and skin color. They had left behind them the uncertain summer weather of London. Paul and Rosemary while sunbathing on the beach met a charming French couple who they made friends with.  Henri and Beatrice had come to the south from Paris to enjoy the ever present sun and to bathe in the warm waters of the mediterranean sea. From a beach friendship their closeness turned into four, maybe five dinners. What the both couples found so pleasant was that they never discussed their occupations, but had lively discussions about their children, books, films, art, and interesting places to visit in France and England. It was a delight to engage in these conversations away from the daily responsibilities of the working world. When Paul and Rosemary left for London there was much talk of Henri and Beatrice staying with them for a weekend as in October Henri had a business meeting in London. 

October came and we found Henri and Beatrice looking at a large South Kennington house. Before ringing the upper front door bell. Rosemary had explained that they shared a house with her parents. Apparently the parents lived in the lower part of the house and Paul and Rosemary in the upper half. Just as Rosemary was about to ring the doorbell there was Rosemary, all smiles, standing in the doorway. She must have seen their taxis stopping in front of the house. She looked good with still a slight tan from her Mediterranean holiday. 

“ Welcome, welcome, so nice to see you. Paul is not home yet. It will give you time to settle in.” 

Rosemary then graciously showed them their room and told them drinks would be served at seven. She excused herself as she had to finish preparing dinner. 

The room was very pleasant. With a bay window overlooking the back garden. It was decorated in a clash of bright colors that the English so favor. As expected, in the fireplace there was a gas heater. The bed looked very comfortable. At seven they were all in the drawing room with Paul acting as barman. The conversation ranged from happy memories of their  holiday, children and of course London weather. For dinner Rosemary had prepared a toad in the hole. A dish the great amused Henri. As they were finishing the meal with cheese and biscuits Paul came up with what he thought was a splendid idea. 

“Tomorrow night we have invited two of our closest friends to dinner. They know France quite well and I think speak a little French. I remember in the South of France when we went to a few restaurants Beatrice and Rosemary had animated discussions about the menu and cooking. Henri, if I remember correctly, like me, you did not join in on the subject, maybe you don’t cook. Why don’t we make tomorrow evening interesting. I claim my wife makes the best roast with Yorkshire pudding in London, a truly English dish followed by Victoria sponge cake. Now Beatrice why don’t you cook us a traditional French dinner and we then can compare the different approaches to cooking. A little competition, “n’est-ce pas?

At that point Henri entered the conversation. 

“Occasionally I do cook so I will take on the challenge. After tonight's excellent meal Rosemary has proved herself to understand the art of the kitchen. So I suggest I try and prepare the corresponding French way of preparing a roast and baking a cake. Like this the comparison will be more interesting.” 

“Splendid, it should promote a pleasant and amusing evening. Now to the selections of kitchens. There are two. The grand parents kitchen down stairs and ours. Rosemary, darling shall we toss a coin for them”

“Sure, if Henri agrees”.

“Yes, toss the coin, heads is the kitchen in your apartment. Let Rosemary make the call. But just one condition: I have to see the kitchen before I go out and shop for  dinner.”

Rosemary won the toss. It was agreed that Henri would see the downstairs kitchen before he went out shopping. The next morning he was introduced to Rosemary’s parents and taken to see their kitchen. It was fine but a little old and musty. He saw immediately he would need a couple of sharp knives and two or three copper pans otherwise he could manage with what was there. Rosemary’s mother seemed very excited by the idea of the dinner and over a quick morning coffee told Henri about three times it was her that taught Rosemary to cook. Henri told Rosemary's parents he would be back around three o'clock to prepare the evening meal. He left the house with Beatrice to go shopping in Harrods; a place he knew well.

As Henri and his wife left the house Paul and Rosemary were in their splendid modern kitchen discussing tonight's dinner. 

Rosemary said. “ It amuses me that Henri took up the challenge and not Beatrice. It never occurred to me that Henri was interested in cooking. Do you think he is a good cook?”

“I have no idea. I don't even know what he does for a living. It is so refreshing meeting and befriending people that don’t constantly talk about their jobs. Darling, we will know tonight. Now what do we need from the supermarket? Also, I have  been thinking we will have a form of buffet where we can pick between the English and French presentation of a roast. I will buy two little flags and menu cards. What do you think?”

“Great idea. I am so pleased I won the toss and are cooking in my own kitchen. I am afraid Henri will struggle a bit down stairs. Let’s go before the crowd.

Both couples arrived back in the early afternoon laden with purchases for tonight's festivities. The house was quiet in the afternoon except for a noise coming from each kitchen. Rosemary’s children were away at a university and her mother and husband had gone for a long walk. Paul had disappeared for a quick round of golf. This left Beatrice in the drawing room enjoying an English novel Rosemary had lent her.

As the afternoon progressed it was time to look into the kitchens. Rosemary was well advanced with English  classical dishes of roast beef with trimming and Yorkshire pudding followed by Victoria sponge cake. The beef was a cut of topside, potatoes, King Edward, brussel sprouts, carrots, with the yorkshire pudding made of eggs, flour, butter and milk. Not a difficult menu; the taste and flavor was all in cooking. Not easy to get it just right. The Victoria sponge cake, another classic, could only be judged by the delicate airy feeling of the sponge. Seldom achieved. 

Below Henri was struggling a bit as he was disoriented by an old kitchen he was not accustomed to. He had purchased two copper pans and two very sharp knives. 

Without these he would not have been able to properly prepare his dishes. To compete with the English roast he was preparing a “Boeuf grille aux epinards, sauce raifort”.  All his products for the dinner were purchased at Harrods including a chateau bottle wine of world wide recognition.To achieve a masterpiece dinner the dish required a number of products: rumstack, green beans, onion, olive oil, spinach, watercress, dried tomatoes. For the sauce: yaourt, horseradish, citron, soja, garlic, tabasco sauce. The art of great cooking was making all these products come together in a harmonious way that would have a profound effect on one's taste buds. Henri also knew if the presentation of the dish had a strong appealing aspect to the eyes; the need to achieve a taste that corresponded to the expectation was essential.

The chocolate cake: Henri understood in preparing the cake it needed a few hours of cooling time to settle down. As time was limited he would use their freezer. Henri from years of experience knew the taste of a chocolate cake depended on the quality of the chocolate. 

In the early evening the house fell silent. Cocktails had been called for 7.30. Rosemary’s guests were due to arrive a few minutes before cocktail hour. The elegant dinner table had been set with a side table waiting for the two chef’s masterpieces. On the side table there was empty space in front of two miniature French and English flags supported by a menu card. The before dinner cocktails were in full swing with tonight’s guests, Thomas and Charlotte talking about their time in France. Just before eight Rosemary left the room to place her dishes in the dining room. Once she returned Henri left the room to place his dishes. A few minutes after eight dinner was called in a room filled with a heated ambiance of excitement. 

As the dining rooms door were opened the guest saw a succulent English roast with a Victoria sponge cake dominated by a tiny British flag. As all eyes turned to the French flag the diners saw a dish of spectacular beauty. It was a feast for the eyes. Next to it was chocolate cake. 

Paul immediately said. “ Henri, I thought you were an occasional cook”.

“Today, that is true. But allow me to start with the English roast as for many years I have hoped to taste this dish cooked by an English woman in her own home”. 

Henri and Beatrice sat down to a generous serving of Rosemary’s cooking. All the other diners made a beeline for Henri’s artistic dish and the chateau bottled wine. After a few minutes one could hear Paul, Rosemary’s and the guest remarks. “ This is incredible, the delicate mixing of different tastes is remarkable”. 

Rosemary was quick to say. “I resign from the competition. Henri is obviously a chef with many years experience. No amiteur could produce a dish of this nature. The choice of an exceptional wine that blends perfectly with the dish is again a sign of his knowledge of the kitchen.  Henri, own up”!

“Before I do, let me make a few remarks about the Sunday roast. It is a hearty, extremely well cooked dish. My congratulations. Just a little criticism. I suspect it was not made from the finest raw materials, but in today's big urban centers unhappily that is a question of where one shops and price. I would not like to tell you what I spent on preparing my dish. The dish, for my taste, lacks a depth of flavor. The secret is in preparing a source that stimulates the flavors of the meat and accompanying vegetables. This I think is one of the fundamental differences between our two countries' cooking. Now to the truth. Yes I am a professional chef. I own, with my wife, a three star Michelin Restaurant in Paris. But Paul to your point, today I can assure you I only occasionally cook”.  

As he ended his little speech all the dinners clapped, even Beatrice. 

Rosemary stood up and said. “What a wonderful surprise we are privileged to partake in a meal of this excellence and artistry. A very rare occasion, thank you. Now we know what you do for a living”.

The plates for the desert course contained both the excellent sponge cake and the chocolate cake. The chocolate employed was of a quality, refinement and taste rarely found. As Henri said it is all a question of price. The recipe is not difficult.

David Nutt                                       October 2004