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French in a Flash: Drunken Angel Hair with Leeks and Cream

Children always grow up too fast. For me, that meant wanting to drink wine so desperately so I could be just like Maman. But she had a strategy for dealing with me: just say yes.

It's hard to imagine extricating the French from their wine, and as we know from French Women Don't Get Fat, denial is not a part of the French regime, but rationing is. Many French children, yours truly included, start training for the main event—a glass of wine with dinner—from a very young age. First, we get a finger dipped in a glass of smoky Merlot. Then, a splash of Sauvignon Blanc diluted into our water. That's where I got the idea for this week's recipe: Drunken Angel Hair with Leeks and Cream.

The angel hair is cooked in a boiling cauldron of water and white wine, just like I had drank as a child, and then tossed together with a soft, sweet sautéed spaghetti-julienne of leeks and sweet cream, plus a little more "raw" wine to finish it off. It's like a drunken Vichyssoise with pasta instead of potato.

My First Taste of Drunkenness

When I was three years old, I made the very wise and informed decision that I was now old enough to have my first taste of wine. I informed Maman; she took me very seriously. She dipped her finger into her red wine, and proffered it to me. It was everything I expected—it felt like magic. That great whoosh of the alcohol as it whisps through your head. The stick of the tannins as they settle on your tongue. I felt enchanted, and initiated. As soon as Maman turned her back, I decided to stick my finger into all the other wine glasses at the wedding, and before I knew it, I had fallen asleep for nearly an entire day. I never drank too much wine again.*

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This wine cost me $4.50

All this angel hair has to do is pass out on your plate. You job is just to make it as devilish and inebriated as possible and give it all the white wine you can find. What I love about this dish is that if I have a bottle of wine that I don't like, a really cheap bottle, or the ends of four or five bottles, I can use them all. The pasta will be so drunk, it won't know the difference.

* Maman likes to joke that she never had to worry about me in college because I got it out of my system so young. Then again, Maman also tried to insist that I order a glass of wine at dinner when I turned eighteen, and when I told her that the American drinking age was twenty-one, she looked at me as if she had never heard the thing before. "Are you serious?" she blinked.

About the author: Kerry Saretsky is the creator of French Revolution Food, where she reinvents her family's classic French recipes in a fresh, chic, modern way. She also writes the The Secret Ingredient series for Serious Eats.

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The leeks should be so soft and sweet that they are indistinguishable from the pasta itself

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