J'ai casse' ma cassole.
(jchay kass-ay maa kass-ole)
I broke my cassoulet pot.
This should be a sad story but my Mother visiting from the states and looking over my shoulder starting laughing. Clearly she doesn't understand the seriousness of all this blogging! But I had to admit a pile of priceless beans, two legs of confit and a good length of sausage spread across the tile floor and sprinkled with terracotta pot shards was a pretty good joke. Worst thing was that it was all my fault. Coudn't blame Bacon, nor my Mom who had willingly shucked the beans for me, or even the stupid silicon hot pad that I didn't really like anyway ( I threw it in the trash bin!). It was my fault because I was in a hurry, to move it from oven to outside while it was still bubbling around the edges and the crusty was smoking. In a hurry to take the pictures and then to put it back in the kitchen to set it on the table. I was hungry. I never do my best work when I am hungry! I grabbed the hot pot with just one hand and headed back to the kitchen. I made it past the sink counter, past the edge of the chopping island and still propelled forward with impending doom, I was coming in for a landing on the hot plate when.......... it just slid out of my hand smashed across the kitchen floor. In slow motion.
We had an omelette for lunch. I'll make another one this week when the photo shoot for Maisons Sud Ouest is finished, the garden is put to bed, Bacon has gone to the dog trainers and I am alone in this floating test kitchen. Thanks Mom and Steph for all your help. I'll save you a bite for the next time you come over.