Coq au vin with sautéed mushrooms

I have a really hard time living in the present… I think this is why I hate vacation. There’s nothing worse than discovering a new place with the ticking of the clock counting down your departure date as background music. As a child, each and every place we visited on vacation–Vermont, Mexico, Italy, Tahoe, Hawaii–became a new place I wanted to live. Instead of appreciating the things that we were visiting, I was making plans in my mind for what I would do when this place was my home. I had a list of cities in a notebook, places I planned to move to and “really see,” not as a tourist, but as a local, because even in middle school, before I had even had the inkling of the exchange program in the North of France pass through my little head, I knew that there was something to be said for living in a place as a local, to have a place to hang one’s proverbial hat that wasn’t an anonymous hotel with stiff sheets and musty carpets.

I used to revel in that quote that has been my favorite for so long that I can’t come up with anything else, even when pressed. “Je pense que je serai toujours bien là où je ne suis pas.” I’ve been writing it wrong for a long time, as I learned just a few months ago, when the English One miraculously tracked down a copy of the published original for my birthday: it’s not serai, will be, but serais, would be. A small difference, to be sure, one that my generation of French native speakers doesn’t even make à l’orale, but an important distinction nonetheless.

For a long time, I’ve been living my life via the first translation, with the idea in mind that I will always be good where I’m not, jetsetting here, there and everywhere–Paris, New York, Toronto, San Sebastian… the list of places is like a refrain now. I translated it wrong, which doesn’t have to mean anything, necessarily, except that it falls at an extremely opportune moment, one where I suddenly have very good reason to be content thrilled with the way my life is going in this moment. That means, for once in my life, I’m not looking to next week or next year or even just to tomorrow, but I’m living for now, for today. It’s new for me… I’ve thought that I’ve been doing it in the past, but I was mistaken.

So maybe I would be good where I’m not. Not better–that’s not what Baudelaire said or intended. It’s not about the yearning and yen anymore, just about possibilities and, more importantly, choices. Maybe I would be happy back in New York. Je serais peut être bien en Argentine. But that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is here, now, Paris and everything that goes with it–RATP grève yesterday, wandering through the Jardin de Luxembourg for no reason except that the RER B didn’t sound like fun, late-night apéro and heated conversations with people you’ve just met about politics and celebrities and the proper way to serve chocolate cake–and for once, je pense que je serais toujours bien là où je suis.

Où je suis, right now, means cold and dreary, clouds and the loss of the summer sun that was so omnipresent a few weeks ago. No bother… there are hundreds of things to love about fall, like sautéed mushrooms with a splash of cognac and a healthy dose of chopped parsley. I served these as an accompaniment to coq au vin blanc, but they would be just as good by themselves or as a side to any other meat dish.

Sautéed Mushrooms

10-12 white champignons de Paris or other white button mushrooms
2 tbsp. butter
1 tbsp. vegetable oil
2-3 shallots, minced
2-3 cloves of garlic, minced
1 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
1 hearty splash (about 3 Tbsp.) Cognac
1/2 bunch parsley, finely chopped

Wipe your mushrooms with a paper towel and thinly slice them, removing any woody stems.

Heat the butter and oil over medium-high heat in a saucepan, and add enough mushrooms to cover the bottom of the pan. Allow to cook about 2 minutes without stirring, then begin to sauté, allowing them to release their juices and brown. When the mushrooms are golden on both sides, push them to the exterior of the pan and add more mushrooms to the middle. Continue until all the mushrooms are golden.

Add the shallots, garlic, salt and pepper to the pan and cook until fragrant. (Note: If cooking ahead, stop at this step and turn off the pan.)

Add the Cognac to the hot pan–be careful of flames, and cook, stirring, until the liquid has evaporated, about five minutes. Remove from the heat and stir in the parsley. Serve hot.