Stuart and I spent our evening in the kitchen preparing Filets de Sole a la Parisienne, Gratines.
With the fire danger so high, I have not wanted to use the grill. So when I saw petrale sole at the market, it seemed like a good time to reprise an old recipe. Fish. Eggs. Butter. Cream. Cheese. What could be bad?
*arteries shudder*
Working in the kitchen together to prepare a classic French sauce set off a wave of nostalgia for the “good old days” of 1968 when we could afford to dine out on the rich, fat, heavy, show-off dishes so popular those days – Escargots de Bourgogne, Caesar Salad, Steak Tartare, Chateaubriand, Coquilles St. Jacques, Lemon Souffle, Courvoisier.
For an instant, I felt a pang of regret. I’m sorry I never got to enjoy that rich, beautiful lifestyle with him. In a flash, I realized that I am.
We relive it every time we thumb through a well-worn cookbook and talk about our favorite restaurants and the best this or that we ever had. We recreate it when we collaborate on a recipe (which works as long as I can be the boss. )
It’s a different place and time, of course. We are no longer young and buff. We don’t dine out at all much less on four course dinners. The very idea of paying $30 a pound for beef, not to mention how it’s farmed has turned me into a less meat-atarian. But we still love the good life and make the best of what we have.
It’s plenty rich and beautiful in its way.
