Oh woe is me ... all is revealed, I've just come from the kitchen where I experienced the trauma of reading, mid-preparation (which is no preparation beyond making sure that most of the ingredients are on the bench in front of me) 'bouquet garni'!!
Bouquet garni???!!
I felt cheated. I had done what I usually do and had all the ingredients I could find on the bench. Okay, so I hadn't noticed the casserole needed carrots and tomato puree when buying the meat. Gert probably had noticed but assumed he was dealing with a woman of average intelligence who therefore didn't need these things pointed out to her.
So ... I made a snap decision to go on without those two ingredients and turned the onions golden brown, coated the rump steak with flour and browned it quickly too. It all went into the new Denby casserole dish.
Author's note: It may be that in my previous career as huisvrouw, I made use of magical little packets of casserole powder made by Maggi, with titles like Lamb Ragout and Chicken Chasseur. Startlingly good results without garni agony.
All was going well ... the beef stock the red wine the mushrooms, and then suddenly, the seperately listed ingredients of bay leaf thyme and parsley morphed into a terrifying 'bouquet garni'.
My French is the type to put a french person on the ground in convulsions of laughter ... they see ernest desire to perform, they hear a nightmare.
With floury hands I flicked through the cookbook, something I'd vowed not to do ... I found nothing helpful. So, I was already missing carrots and tomato puree, what did a little garni matter.
I looked at the bay leaves Gert keeps in the cupboard and thought, 'Hmmm do I wash these or chew them and spit the paste into the casserole?' ... I left them out too. Sprigs of Thyme and Parsley ... well.
So it's in the oven and it's a different kind of casserole ... I'm sure it will still be nice, it smells good and the new casserole dish will clearly enhance the end result ... and the leftover red wine well ... I think that will take care of any complaints.
Morale of story ... one should never assume every woman is a goddess in the kitchen.
Postscript: why did I worry? The casserole was lovely, and having not read my confession of kitchen crimes here, Gert loved the hearty beef and wine result.
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