True, she did possess the rather unique talent of opening beer bottles with the heel of one of her stilettos, but that’s not what caught my fancy: rather, my desire first peaked for her Beef Bourguignon, which put my own cooking of said stuff to shame, and that, like the beer bottles, she did her cooking in those very same shoes(!) while I read her Yeats until she told me to “shut up” and pull the cork on the wine bottle.
And, later, when I was close enough to smell the rosemary and garlic, the aroma of which still with her, I asked quietly if next time, she would make Coq au Vin, while wearing those stilettos.
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