A chicken leg, with a shiny golden brown crust, was slowly leaking fat, exuding smoke and the aroma of sweet wine, most likely Cahors. For some reason, pink shrimps and small octopuses squawked in the pan next to the chicken, squids curled up in rings and, it seems, there were also large New Zealand mussels. It remained to wait for sheer nonsense - the wine had almost boiled away, and it was possible to start the meal.