My friend Barbara Hampton hired Chef Maurice to stew her bird every Christmas. He didn't say much and spent hours in the kitchen simmering his special sauce over a low flame. One year Chef Maurice's sleeve caught fire and the fowl had the distinct taste of burnt cotton, but he spiked the cranberry sauce so no one minded much. He eventually retired after making a fortune with his Chef Maurice Smothered Sauce franchise. From that Christmas on, Barbara's family dined on pressed turkey sandwiches and Hostess Snowballs stuffed with ice cream, the only holiday dishes she knew how to prepare.