The cavalry just left.
It's so quiet, so suddenly.
Dinner was a success, I think. The salmon rolls disappeared so swiftly along with several bottles of kir, the massive pot o'chicken slurped up long after the rice was gone with hunks of italian and french baguette. Someone even went home with the half-cup of leftover sauce, intending to use it over rice for lunch tomorrow.
Quel compliment...
If you want any of the recipes, let me know or if you want on the recipe mailing list that I send 'em to, ditto that.
I'd just like to take this moment to mention that my cousine Helene is sooooo coool.
So are Cristal, Anna Maria, Seb, Alex, Cristophe and Guillaume for that matter. And me, bien sur. And you. Everyone, really.
This is my shaking my happy hippie-stick.
There are three bottles of wine left, everyone brought some since I'd taken care of everything but the cheeses, and we tore into them but good.
If anyone wants to help me finish the cheeses that Alex brought over... A wonderful Roblochon, spiced Gouda, and a couple of thick hard yellow things that I've never seen before but certainly want to again.
We used plastic dinner plates and cutlery, and I even washed plates and pots and knives in between chopping and cooking but my kitchen is still a warzone.
A wonderful, glorious, warzone.
Remind me I said that in the morning when it comes time to scrub.
That chocolate fondue pot is going to be the bane of my pre-dawn moments. ;)
There are chocolate stains all over my carpet.
Again.
My hands, chin, and various parts of my clothing are covered in 52% cacao.
We laughed until we cried and just kept on laughing.
We played pictionary, Mr. Pyke playing the part of a welcome telephone interruption into the screaming scribled madness.
I'm not sure if you heard them all screaming HELLOOOOO DAAAAAVE and urging you to return (Anna Maria being the only one to have met you your first time 'round).
We toasted a hundred things, oral sex, David, Dave, the incoming Princess visit, Billy's fortieth birthday, my possibly signing that contract for Limoges tomorrow, toasting toasting, and so on and so forth into Wednesday.
Toasting life, rollerblading, skiing, digital cameras (pictures will be incoming shortly, pictures from the alps are already up), and most of all -- dinner among friends.
Laughter.
Chocolate stains.
The scent of leeks and fresh thyme stretching long fingers all the way down fifty seven stairs to the entranceway, juicing the mouths of hungry guests.
The cat is curled up on the couch, purring from the attention of eight pairs of hands.
I've fallen in love with the sound of people clapping with glee.
We played the "which fruit are you" game, and turns out I'm a mango. I wanted to be a pineapple.
Anna Maria is a blackberry, Cristal an apple, and the rest of that conversation dissolved into giggles.
I would have named Helene a tree-ripened date, Alex a banana (although that's largely due to his fondness for the word monkey) and I get lost after that.
Hey, which fruit would you be?
I'm going to go wallow in my overinflated cooking ego now, waiting for the excitement to drain away, and prepare to face tomorrow's contract tribulations.
In more good news, I had a blast at the prefecture again, and came away with my carte de s�jour, along with a dazzling smile from the clerk who started off determined to be surly. Wandering out the imposing stone arches of the prefecture into the cour before Notre Dame, I passed the flower market and drowned in perfume on my way to the m�tro.
I hereby declare Tuesday March 12, 2002 a perfect day.
I even got to talk to David and his girls, and despite knowing better, and looking forward to learning how to shampoo a carpet.
Monstres can be so irritatingly happy sometimes. ;)