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Bo collected the empty cups and asked if we would sit to table. There were place cards. We knew Bebe hadn’t been brought up in a barn, but nothing about her prepared us for this sophistication. After we were seated, she stepped into the dining room and announced, “Dinner is served.” When she turned back into the kitchen, the smile on her face was sweet enough to rot teeth. She and Bo returned, placing on the table petit pois with pearl onions in a cream sauce, haricots verts in vinaigrette, and twice-baked potatoes and mushroom gravy. The piece de resistance was a beef Wellington.

We stood and applauded and she joined in the admiring laughter. Each of us knew the complexity of building a beef Wellington. How the duxelles must be prepared while the loin is in the oven. How the loin must be cooling as the short pastry rests in the refrigerator. How the pate must be at a spreadable consistency before the duxelles is patted in place. Bebe said she would love to tell us when we finished eating how a noncook had managed to bring off a four-star dinner.

We sat with small bowls of good commercial ice cream for dessert and she described her day. At 10 A.M., she telephoned The New York Times and asked to speak to food editor Craig Claiborne. She would not be pacified by his assistant. When Mr. Claiborne answered, Bebe accented her already heavy accent and, with her flair for dramatics, began to cry. “Mr. Claiborne, I am the wife of the Uruguay ambassador and I have invited eight couples of diplomats and two foreign vice presidents with their wives for dinner. This morning”—here a loud outburst of sobs—“my cook and his staff walked out in a huff. Oh my, Mr. Claiborne, I fear an international incident. I had the cook send out the menu, and I cannot possibly deliver.” According to Bebe, Craig Claiborne asked what the menu was.

She replied, “Gazpacho, beef Wellington, petit pois, twice-baked potatoes, and haricots verts.”

She told him she had all the ingredients and a grown daughter who could help her. He assured her that he would keep the telephone open all day and would walk her through each dish. All she had to do was follow his instructions to the letter.

According to her, he did keep the telephone open, and from the success of the dinner, she certainly followed his instructions.

As we left her apartment, she said, “I did this to prove to you unbearable egotists that cooking is no big thing. After we eat up all the leftovers, Bo and I will be back to pizza and salad. I’m not a cook and look what I was able to do.”

I think Bebe is a great cook. No one knew it then.

I believe one can be born a great cook, achieve the status of a great cook, or have the greatness of cooking thrust upon her.

Bebe is probably head chef at New York’s Four Seasons today.

Wherever she is, here are my recipes for beef Wellington, gazpacho, petit pois, twice-baked potatoes, and haricots verts.

Beef Wellington

SERVES 6 TO 8

2-3 pounds top tenderloin

Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

1 small onion, minced

2 stalks celery, minced

2 portobello mushrooms, minced

2 tablespoons (¼ stick) butter

1 sheet Puffed Pastry (recipe follows)

½ pound chicken liver páté

1 large egg

½ cup water

Preheat oven to 375°F.

Season tenderloin with salt and pepper, and roast for 45 minutes. Interior tenderloin temperature should be 135-145°F for medium. Remove from oven. Let cool. Reduce oven temperature to 325°F.

In large skillet, sautê onion, celery, mushrooms, and butter—this is called duxelles.

Take Puffed Pastry from refrigerator, and roll out on floured board. If pastry is too dry, add cold water sparingly. Sheet should measure 3 inches longer and 5 inches wider than roast. Place half the duxelles on pastry. Place roast on the duxelles mixture. Cover roast with pate. Put the remaining duxelles on tops and sides of the roast. Bring pastry dough up to cover sides, ends, and top of the roast.

Mix egg and water together. With cooking brush, spread egg wash on sides, ends, and