• Recipes
  The Apprentice's Pot au Feu Creamy Morning Eggs Alexandre's Omelette Raviole de Fois Gras Monkey Brains Cocktail Chef's Own Sweet and Sour, Hot and Cold Eggs Ris de Veau aux Morilles Colette's Seven Hour Lamb

From Chapter Twenty-Six

"Obviously," Capucine went on, "no one here is going to gossip about what patrons speak about during their meals." She gave a little smile she hoped conveyed her complicity. "But a valued client of the restaurant has been murdered and we need all of you to help bring the culprit to justice. It's the responsible thing to do."

The table again fractured into shards of animated private conversation. Only two boys, teenagers in jeans, who looked like they might be aide serveurs, sat rigidly, staring straight ahead silently, lips squeezed tight as an extra precaution against betraying their secret. Making them even more conspicuous, Bouteiller shot them warning glances.

"Monsieur Bouteiller," Capucine said, "if those boys know anything, let them speak. The discretion of a restaurateur is one thing, obstruction of justice is a whole other kettle of fish."

Bouteiller scowled, shrugged, and jerked his head towards the boys, "Tres bien. Allez y!"

"Well, Madame," began one of the boys, "At the beginning of the meal, Arsène, he's the serveur who's our boss, served Président Delage the Coquetier au liqueur d'érable acidulé. You know, it's a signature dish, soft boiled egg with a vinegar and maple syrup sauce. The eggs are delivered just before dinner. Can you believe it, they are actually laid that morning," he said with adolescent wonder. "Anyway, Prèsident Delage said he wanted a timbale of the liqueur on the side because there was never enough." A man in his early thirties sitting a few seats down the table, whom Capucine assumed was the Arsène in question, nodded vigorously. "So," the boy continued, "Arsène went back to the kitchen to get it and left us standing there. We did what we were supposed to and backed five paces away from the table and stood at attention all the time we were waiting, but we could still hear the conversation pretty good."

Alan Passard, one of the most billiant of the three–stars chefs in Paris, has been serving set and sour eggs coddled in their own shells for quite some time, but his recipe is not only secret but far more complicated than this one. Chef Labrousse's recipe in The Gourmet's Wife is probably even more complicated that Passard's, but since it's a secret too, we'll never know. As far as I'm concerned, this one is every bit as good.