376. The chef and the demi-chef (2)

 The chopping went well, the sauce was simmering gently and the fish was covered with a thin layer of flower. I, being the chef was in charge of last step: frying the fish lightly. The place was full or aromas and everyone was really looking forward to dinner. I was looking forward to the flambé.

Demi-chef was keen to take part. I agreed. He would pour the brandy and I would crack a match. He overdid the brandy I think because when the light of the match hit the alcohol fumes the whole pan went woooooooshhh and beautiful abundant blue flames rose in unison and danced over the white morsels of fish set in a red pond of tomatoes.

'YES!' I screamed, thrilled with the result.

But then my husband spoiled the moment, the flame had risen a little too much and caught his hand. He let go of the pan and the match and abandoned his post.

'Hey! Watch out!'

But I was so happy I switched off the lights and took the dish to the table. Everyone was impressed. Except my husband who was rubbing his hand and inspecting his shirt sleeve. I was worried too especially about the brand new shirt. Anyway all was forgotten and I was forgiven because the dish tasted so good.