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maybe with foie gras, Armand reflected a little enviously.

      ‘I’m sure I put on at least four pounds! Armand, I’m counting on you to help me regain my figure!’ she continued.

      ‘Of course! That means veggie cocktails and more stomach exercises!’ Armand smiled. Well, it is part of my job, isn’t it?

      ‘We ate very well most of the time, but we missed your cooking, Armand,’ Rick said, visibly enjoying the soup. ‘This is delicious – a new recipe?’

      ‘Sort of,’ Armand answered vaguely.

      ‘To be added to your book? Have you worked on it, since, after all, you have had some time off?’ Carla enquired.

      ‘Well, you know, with my mother and sister visiting …’

      ‘But they were only here for a week, weren’t they?’

      Armand was not going to tell her that, besides spending time with Juliette, he had lounged in the most comfortable armchair in front of the fire, reading books, watching silly comedies, or – on a less agreeable note – just staring out of the window and dwelling on bitter memories from the past and worries for the future.

      ‘Leave him alone, Carla. Armand needed some time off,’ said Rick, winking at Armand, knowing full well what he’d been through. Rick, too, was writing a book – had been for almost ten years now – with the curious title of It’s Unfortunate that Socialism Will Never Flourish in America.

      Carla thought that Armand’s book would be far more interesting than her husband’s because people would rather read and talk about good food and recipes than politics, especially nowadays.

      ‘I really love this soup!’ Rick repeated, trying to keep the subject away from books.

      Armand appreciated Rick and Carla complimenting his cooking. He was always grateful for the praise, since, when he was growing up, his family had rarely had anything positive to say to him.

      ‘Wait until you see the dernier cri pieces I brought back from Paris,’ Carla told him. ‘They’ll give you some great material for your book. I also thought about a few titles on the plane. I couldn’t read, and the only movies were tiresome commercial ones.’

      Rick and Armand exchanged glances: Carla would never change. When she had something on her mind it was hard to stop her. Why doesn’t she just write the book herself?

      Suddenly Carla stood up, blew out all the candles except one, and turned the lights off. Juliette asked what was going on but Armand took her hand and told her not to be afraid. The melancholy piano music in the background added to the air of mystery.

      But not for Rick, who was obviously in cahoots with Carla. He was chuckling quietly.

      ‘Go on eating, and describe your sensations,’ Carla ordered gently, her tone serious. ‘The aroma, the texture, the flavour of what you’re putting in your mouths.’

      Armand found all this a little odd, even if he was used to the occasional eccentricities of the couple.

      ‘OK,’ Juliette replied, more relaxed now, and definitely more amused about this little game than her father.

      Kids always think that life is fun, Armand mused. Why does that have to come to an end when one grows up? Although adulthood didn’t seem to have stopped the fun for Rick and Carla, who were constantly cheerful.

      ‘Of course, you know what ingredients are on your plate, Armand, but Rick, Juliette and I will try to guess what they are while we eat in the dark.’

      The three of them in turn shared their observations about the soup.

      After a few minutes Juliette grew tired of the game. She couldn’t identify all the ingredients, even though she did pretty well describing what she had on her plate. She whispered in her father’s ear that she wanted the lights turned back on.

      Finally Armand told everyone what the ingredients were.

      After a few ‘Oh, really?’ and ‘I knew it!’ the lights were back on and the candles relit.

      ‘You see, the most interesting meal we had on our Parisian trip was at the restaurant Sombre-Obscur, one of the restaurants branchés of the moment, where you basically eat in the dark,’ Rick explained.

      ‘Definitely a world-class restaurant!’ Carla added.

      Armand didn’t really like these sorts of places. In his opinion they offered no atmosphere, besides having a similar corporate designer look, with no sense of conviviality – the way Rick and Carla’s kitchen had looked before Armand had added his human touch – and they all served the same kinds of dishes no matter where you were in the world: experimental cooking, overly complex preparations and bizarre mixtures of ingredients that in the end denatured the essence of the food. The prices were also completely over the top.

      Armand would have preferred an intimate local family restaurant, colourful and welcoming, where the menu was made from what was available that morning at the market and the cuisine was as authentic as its clientele. Unfortunately these little eating places were becoming increasingly rare everywhere in the world.

      ‘And you’ll never guess what we had for dessert!’ Rick finished.

      ‘The most expensive dessert in the world!’ exclaimed Carla.

      And, yes, it has to be expensive otherwise it can’t possibly be any good, Armand thought.

      ‘White truffle ice cream. Thirty euros a scoop!’ Rick informed them.

      ‘What? That’s forty-five dollars!’ shouted Armand.

      ‘That’s awfully expensive for white chocolate ice cream,’ said Juliette, her eyes wide with surprise.

      Rick explained to her what white truffles were.

      The little girl made a face. ‘Ice cream with mushrooms?’

      ‘Was it good, at least?’ Armand enquired.

      ‘It was, wasn’t it?’ Rick turned to Carla dubiously.

      ‘It was … er, yes, it definitely was.’

      That wasn’t said with much conviction, Armand decided. It was apparent to him that Rick and Carla had simply played their preferred role of trendy connoisseurs because it was the wealthy people’s thing to do, not because it was enjoyable.

      Rick and Carla continued raving about Sombre-Obscur, where customers were supposedly able to develop their sense of taste and smell, and experience brand-new and exciting sensations while eating.

      ‘It was a bit tricky to eat and drink neatly at times, but we truly could taste our food like we never have before. It was worth a try, wasn’t it?’

      ‘It was. Er, it definitely was.’

      ‘You spent the whole meal in total darkness?’ Juliette asked, somewhat astounded.

      Welcome to the odd world of adults, Armand was tempted to whisper in his daughter’s ear.

      ‘Just a few candles on the walls of the restaurant, that’s all,’ Carla explained.

      ‘That seems a little creepy, doesn’t it?’ Juliette stared at her father with her big hazel eyes.

      ‘It was very romantic, actually!’ Carla replied, glancing languorously at Rick.

      Romantic, my foot! Armand decided it was a silly idea because a big part of the delight in enjoying food is to see what you’re eating. If you want to taste what you have in your mouth without seeing the food, then close your eyes! This so-called innovative cuisine that mixes anything and everything together with no logic – no, thanks! And watching your companion enjoying food is also delicious … if indeed one has someone with whom you can share such pleasure …

      ‘I

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