¶ It was going to be a very nice, traditional dinner, meat and two veg, but special: with sauce Bérnaise for the meat, a nice hanger steak. Everything was going at once, but the sauce got finished first, and then, because I’m stupid, and park a Staub cocotte on a flame tamer on the stovetop, I ran out of room for hot pots, and I put the sauce — in the sink. Uncovered. So that, when I was dizzy plating the food and needed to spritz my fingers, I lifted the tap without realizing that the faucet was positioned directly over the sauce. Ruin was the work of an instant. 

The haricots and the steamed, riced sweet potato were perfect. The meat was a tad rare. Kathleen thought it was a fine meal. I won’t say that this made it only worse, because it didn’t. How nice that Kathleen really didn’t mind! But it made me feel foolish for feeling as though I, instead of the Béarnaise, had curdled. 

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