Tonight I'm making a beautiful lentil soup.

The recipe I'm following calls for something called a bouquet garni. I'm sure you know what that is. I didn't really know, mostly because I don't cook much from recipe books. I speak French, so I was able to understand. I called my father, French and a self-taught cook, just to be sure.

"Dad, I'm making lentil soup and the recipe calls for bouquet garni. That's herbs in a bouquet, right? Like, tied with string. Garnered, if you will."

"Yes." He sounded suspicious. "What recipe are you using?"

"It's from a Provencal cookbook." We're Provencal French, so I thought that might be the end of the discussion. Anything Provencal trumps all arguments in our family, at least when it comes to gastronomy.

"But which one? Who wrote it?"

I gave him the name of the author. Dad snorted in disgust.

"An Englishman? You think an Englishman knows how to cook lentil soup?" In my family, being English, or British in any way, excludes you from being able to cook -- anything. My mother is from New Zealand and is allowed into the kitchen to butter toast and make tea.

"Dad, it's a Provencal recipe. The chef learned it in Provence. So what if he's English?"

"Foolisht," (he didn't really call me that, as it's not my name, but whatever) "Foolisht, think of your cousins. Think of your cousins' neighbors. Think of the family. When have you ever seen any of them tie things together in little bouquets?"

"Um--"

"What's in the bouquet garni?"

"Uh... parsley, thyme, a couple bay leaves, celery--"

"Yeah, that's fine. Just stick it in the soup. Don't worry about tying it together."

"I don't mind tying it--"

"Don't."

"But the recipe--"

"Forget the recipe."

Click. Me, Foolisht, left on the phone, still imagining her Provencal ancestors who never had the time to tie perfectly good herbs together instead of sticking them directly in the soup.

So, do you see why I don't often follow recipes?

Update: The soup turned out beautifully.  Fragrant and hot with herbs, none of which were bound.  My father is smug.