From the Galley

The captain walked into the quaint, inset front door of Chez Nanou, still a sealed bottle of Rum stuffed in his front pocket, and he could hear the jolly murmurs of what must have been created by at least

four bottles of opened red wine, passed around the room, sipped, repeated.  He approached the small group of six women and one man, who himself looked to be part of the instruction, standing at the corner of the soft wooden bar, welcoming guests, bottle opener handy and by now well lubricated from use.  Monique, the famous proprietor of Chez Nanou, was, appropriately, speaking in a deep French accent something of her childhood spent in Brittany on a small farm, "In the spring, when Maman decided to make her coq au vin, or chicken in wine, my

siblings and I knew we had a long morning ahead of us.  Among the flock of around fifty chickens that roamed freely throughout the courtyard and barn area, Maman picked out exactly which hen she wanted to go into the pot.  It was always an old hen, too old to lay eggs but ripe with rich flavor that would seep into the sauce as it cooked.  Once Maman marked her quarry...." and Monique briefly

hesitated to acknowledge the Captain, "bonjour, mon ami, I see that you have brought your own quarry, oui?"  The rum had already been passed along the edge of the bar, tipped back like pirate sailors who have just set foot on the beaches of Nassau for the first time in three months, thirsty, hungry.  As the captain looked out the back window facing towards the water of Lake Monona, the happy sails of rainbow colored sloops stitching across the horizon, Monique picked up the bottle and took a good long swig.  "Ah, a bit sweet, non? she said without a blink, "but, we will be able to use some of this for the chicken later, oui?  As I was saying, "it was up to us children to capture the hen before lunch.  The chase was on as we tried to distinguish the honored dinner guest from her scattering sisters, every chicken taking off in separate directions to avoid being caught.  Woe to the child who tried to pass off a substitute hen from the one Maman wanted! Inevitably, after a morning of scrambling up haystacks or crawling through the woodpile to find the hiding place, the old hen was caught and brought to her just reward." Chef Monique opened to a wide grin, her ruthless cook's eyes widening, "Our just reward came the next day, as a pot of savory coq au vin proudly took center stage on the dinner table."