After the exciting adventure in the metro, Éloïse, Théo, and Marceau were glad to finally be back in their small apartment. The sun was already low, and the scent of fresh baguette from the bakery next door sparked an idea in Éloïse.
“I feel like cooking something truly French tonight,” she announced enthusiastically, waving a recipe in her hand. “Coq au vin! That’s such a classic – and I really want to try it.”
Théo grinned. “Well, if that’s not a recipe for chaos! But I’m happy to help. Marceau, you too?”
“Sure! What could possibly go wrong?” replied Marceau, who immediately stepped into the kitchen and rolled up his sleeves.
Éloïse began fetching the ingredients from the cupboards: red wine, herbs, chicken, bacon. Théo chopped vegetables while Marceau tried to read the instructions – but backwards, which was rather confusing.
“Okay, first fry the bacon,” said Éloïse, pushing the pan onto the stove. But as soon as she turned on the heat, the stove started crackling and flickering.
“Um, Éloïse? Are you sure the stove isn’t older than all of us combined?” Théo warned skeptically.
“Oh, we can handle this!” Éloïse shouted and threw the bacon into the pan. But as soon as it sizzled, thick smoke suddenly rose. The kitchen filled with a sharp smell of burnt fat.
“Oh no, the smoke detector!” shouted Marceau, waving a towel frantically in front of the alarm. But it kept beeping relentlessly.
“Open the window, open the window!” Éloïse shouted, throwing open the small kitchen window while trying to save the burnt bacon with a pot holder.
Théo rushed to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. “Here, try this!” he said, carefully pouring some water into the pan – which of course only made the smoke worse.
“Oh man, water on fat? That’s like fire with gasoline!” laughed Marceau, though his voice sounded rather panicked.
Suddenly there was a loud crack, and a small flame shot up from the pan. “Fire! Fire in the kitchen!” Éloïse screamed and jumped back in fright.
Théo quickly grabbed the fire extinguisher he had luckily spotted in the corner. “Don’t panic, I’ve got this!” he shouted, spraying foam on the flames. But in doing so, he tripped over a shopping bag lying around and fell hard to the floor.
Marceau helped him up, but the chaos was complete: The fire extinguisher sprayed wildly, the smoke detector wailed, and smoke still rose from the pan.
“Maybe cooking isn’t for us after all,” Éloïse gasped, wiping sweat from her forehead.
“I think we just staged a little kitchen inferno,” said Théo, looking at the charred pan.
Just as they were about to deal with the chaos, there was a loud knock at the door. “Oh no, it’s probably the neighbors!” Éloïse whispered in panic.
Théo opened cautiously – and faced an elderly lady standing with a stern look and a broom in her hand.
“Bonsoir, I could smell the smoke all the way down the hall. Is everything okay with you? Or should I call the fire department?” she asked with a slightly reproachful tone.
Éloïse tried to smile, but her voice trembled: “Um... yes, everything is under control. We’re... just practicing French cooking.”
The lady raised an eyebrow. “Well, good luck. And maybe a little less fire.”
As she closed the door behind her, the three friends looked at each other and burst into loud laughter.
“Well, that was definitely not the Coq au vin I imagined,” said Marceau, shaking his head.
“But at least we survived our first French kitchen adventure,” added Théo, patting Éloïse on the shoulder.
Éloïse sighed, but her smile revealed that she somehow enjoyed it in the end. “Next time we’ll just order pizza. Promise.”
But no sooner had they calmed down than a loud beep sounded – and a flashing light came from the living room. A blinking alarm that showed them all: The chaos was far from over.