Everyone is gathered round the Christmas tree. The smaller kids throw themselves in my lap. Three ages, three smells that mingle into one. During the course of the evening, they lose the scent of their bath; their smell now is nothing but softness, tenderness and happiness. I don't dare breathe, I become intoxicated. Their three little, impatient mouths are spattered with chocolate. "Jean Claude, have you tried the one with orange zest?" "No, I prefer coarse dark chocolate; Caracas I think it's called."
The room is pervaded by aromas which don't blend. The smell of resin, of candles, the scent of yellow roses which reminds me of the scent of tea. Lunch will be a perfumed affair; a small bottle of fragrance will be slipped inside the napkins. With an Irish wife, one child married to an Italian and another to a German, dishes and desserts will be redolent of the whole of Europe! The kitchen is filled with the smell of butter and spices, coming from the pudding being cooked for an hour now. There will be white truffle from Alba and stuffed goose. To add to the tastes, we will talk about smells!"
Thanks to Jean Claude Ellena and au.feminin