An old Slovenian proverb has always been so precious to me. “Roast chickens don’t fly into mouth by themselves.” Or chicken cooked any way that is both appetising and elegant.
At one of our beautiful Mar-a-Lago receptions I had the chef sprinkle the finest gold leaf on to the generous individual portions, which were flown simultaneously to every guest by a flock of trained parakeets, each bird dyed a pastel shade to match immaculate table settings I had personally supervised over many exhausting months. I later had the honour to share this serving suggestion with her majesty Queen Elizabeth II. But I knew from my mother that chicken must first be earned.
