Grilled Plums

Chicken Soup for the Restless Soul
 

 

 

 

 

 

Knives moving at a whirlwind speed, chopping carrots, slicing onions, gutting fish with expert skill.

Hands held high above the seared black surface of the pan, checking the sizzle of hot heat before pouring in the spices and the sauces, the vegetables that popped and crackled, up the juices and their flavor.

A pinch of pepper here, a pinch of salt there, herbs pushed deep into the pockets of red meat.

Shouting out orders over the hiss of the steam, the clatter of silverware and fine china, the ringing of the bell that called waiters for pickup.

Each plate was a work of art, intricately crafted, carefully placed entrees and appetizers marked with an artistic flourish.

Standing over a pot of boiling water, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his free hand, the chef stood back to observe the sounds and the smells.

It may have been chaos to any other, but to him -

...He thrived in it.

 

-

 

The first time it had happened, it was a fluke.  A one time occurrence born out of lack of sleep and temporary emotional instability.

At least that was what he had told himself.

The second time it had happened… had been a confusing annoyance.

But… the third, the fourth, the fifth… the sixth?

He couldn’t even remember how many times it had happened anymore.

It had gotten to the point where he’d started to become scared of even trying the other’s food, which was absurd, really.

 

-

 

Just to have a little space, she has had to push aside the tiny crowd of potted plants that she had insisted on buying.  He doesn’t think they’ll complain.  They worship her as if she’s the sun.

The black iron is maybe a little rusted, the paint maybe a little chipped, but maybe she’s a little bit of an angel, leaning over the precarious rail of their tiny balcony, humming some charming song he’s never heard before under her breath.

Truthfully, though he’s lived here for (how many months was it now?) - he doesn’t know enough French to be able to understand what she’s singing, but perhaps he’s always been a bit of a linguaphile.

To be honest, there’s never been a day that it hasn’t humbled him.

The fact that she’s a flower in bloom and he -

He’s just some stupid American kid - all tall and gangly and awkward, with scruffy uncombed hair, a cracking voice and a complete lack of any fashion sense.

The wind blows in from the outside, shifting the strands of her hair around her face, blowing the air around her toward him.

And he remembers.

Today, she smelled like -

 

-

 

“Plums.  Wrapped in prosciutto.  Walnut brittle - caramel, honey.  Cheese - strong.  ...From a goat?  Hint of peppercorn.  It would pair well with a 2011 Mellot La Moussière.  Oh - and Luna?”

“...yes…?”

Still holding the plate of appetizers in her hand, the sous chef stood in front of him, a furrowed eyebrow, gaping mouth expression of ‘…what’ plastered all over her face.  She had never been one to hold her reactions well.

Kris leaned forward with hands clasped behind his back, expressionless as he took in a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of the food as if it were a fine wine.

“The plums?  Minzy bought them, didn’t she?  Next time, have someone go with her to the market.  They’re borderline overripen.”

She had hardly even begun to sound out her slow and drawn out ‘o…kay’ before he interrupted her again.

“...did you cook this?”

“Of course!”  Luna preened, before pausing, deflating slightly and looking down at the plate with embarrassed reluctance.  “Well… not this specific plate.  Chef cooked the first one for us all to try, and I’ve been learning the recipe from him.  It’s quite simple really, first you…”

Kris let the sous chef trail off, tuning her out in her excitement while he stared down at the plate with all the hatred he could muster, as if that tiny little plum was the source of all the world’s evil.

(If it could have, it would have quivered.  Done them all a favor and just rolled off the plate.)

 

-

 

The head chef heard the swinging doors and immediately thought to himself - Minzy.

Knowing that it was just the energetic little prep cook, probably scurrying around with crates of fresh fruits and vegetables, he didn’t even bother to set his knife down from where he was removing the cores from a bowl of plums, didn’t even bother to turn the music off nor to stop singing along to it as he flicked another plum stone off the table.

Besides, it was Nas’ best album, Illmatic.  Nothing topped Illmatic.

He was already halfway through a second verse of ‘life’s a and then you die’, muttered through lips clenched loosely around a Marlboro Red, when he was jerked from his thoughts by hands that slammed down onto the countertop beside him.

Startled, he shifted his gaze sideways, recognizing instantly who it was beside him - well, that’s definitely not Minzy - and choking suddenly on cigarette smoke inhaled too fast in shock.

Thinking quickly, he leaned forward, pulling the cigarette from his lips and snubbing it out onto the ashtray.  Tugging it behind him to make sure that it was hidden, he turned around with fake bravado, leaning against the counter as coolly as he could with his arms folded in front of his chest.

“H-” Hack, cough, wheeeEEEEeeeeze.  “...hey!

It didn’t seem like he was fooling anyone, judging by the look on Major ’s face.

…well, he didn’t know why he even tried, and he supposed the silent treatment was punishment enough alone, although it was beginning to become a little awkward at this point.

Another few seconds, and his fingers already itched to reach out for another cigarette.

Before he could even begin to fidget though -

“...how the hell do you do it?”

“...wait what?”

 

-

 

Loudly, to be heard against the music still playing in the background, Kris slapped his hand again on the counter, frustrated by the other’s unsatisfactory answer.

“How do you know everything about me?  Did someone tell you?!”

The other’s eyes widened briefly at the sound of hostility before narrowing, mouth tightening into a hard line.

“Listen - no one steps up to me with that kind of attitude.  Unless you’re looking for trouble, I suggest you back off and explain yourself.”

And then with a softer voice, although no less annoyed expression - “Look man, I just started working here and I honestly don’t know what the you’re talking about, alright? I'm not trying to start anything, I'm just trying to keep my head down, cook some good food, and pay my bills.”

Kris turned away with a wordless sound of annoyance, rubbing at his forehead before pointing back at the chef in question.

“I don’t know how - but it’s your food, I know it is!  No one else’s does this!  You’re putting something in it, aren’t you?  Every time I take a bite - it - I - it’s like there’s something happening in my head - “  The chef’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, skeptical and mocking, and Kris bit back a growl, wanting to reach over and strangle the smug look off the other’s face.

The loud squeak of the double doors swinging open forced him to stay composed however, and they both turned to see line cook Chanyeol with a huge slab of pork strung up on his shoulder, wide eyes darting between the two of them with a frozen smile on his face.

“...yes?’  Kris bit out between gritted teeth, not at all pleased at the interruption in his interrogation.

Chanyeol swallowed long and slow, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in concerted effort as he jerked his head back toward the front of the house.

“Uh, the owner is here, said he wanted to talk to Tao?”

Kris blanked on the unfamiliar name before a body pushed past him, wiping plum juice stained hands on the front of an apron.

The chef - Tao, apparently - spared him nothing more than one last mixed glance of annoyance and concern before pushing through the doors, leaving nothing behind except for a still smoldering trail of smoke, curling above an ashtray.

 

-

 

“How are you finding things?  Good?  Comfortable?”

“Doin’ ...alright I guess.  Still finding my way around.”

The owner, Choi Seunghyun, was talking to Tao in a way that seemed ...overly informal, if the lightly squeezing grip on the other’s shoulder said anything at all.

Kris wasn’t sure why he was so interested, knew he shouldn’t be, but he couldn’t help but to stand rooted by the double doors, peering hard through the port windows to see the two of them chatting casually.

The owner’s hand was still on Tao’s shoulder, still squeezing lightly as he chuckled at some stupid joke the chef made.

Kris found himself mildly annoyed, feeling the veins in his forehead tighten at the thought of how the other had skipped out on their very-important-conversation just to have a chance to flirt with the owner.

Knowing that there was someone out there who seemed to know so much about the intimate details of Kris’ life was hard enough to bear - to see the same man laughing loudly and talking about God-knows-what to someone else made him nervous and uncomfortable.

Who knew what terrible things Tao could be telling the owner about Kris?

“Uh, you okay man?”  Chanyeol’s voice trickled over from where he was doing a poor job of slicing the pork, too busy staring at the spectacle that was Kris’ scary face to pay as much attention as he should have been to the food.

Just fine.”  Kris gritted out, turning to grab a corkscrew (as if that had been intention to be in the kitchen all along) and then sweeping back out through the doors.

He made it a point not to stare as he walked by, gritting his teeth at the sounds of irritatingly loud laughter.

 

-

 

It wasn’t really until later that week, when Kris had forced himself to disengage enough to give it some thought, that he realized just how ridiculous he had been about it.

If he wanted to be honest, it had been so long that he’d begun to forget the details of the features of her face (were her dimples on her left side or right?), the ticks and mannerisms she had (did her eyes crinkle when she laugh?).

It was true that every bite of Tao’s food so far had sent him so far into his memories that Kris had a harder and harder time pulling himself back out, but had she ever even smelled like plums?  She had always worn some kind of fragrance, he knew, but… he couldn’t remember now, what it was called.

Either way, he admitted it was impressive, the way the chef’s food never failed to instill those visceral feelings in him.

 

The watermelon gazpacho - bell pepper, parsley, shallot, watermelon, cucumber, a perfect dash of salt.

(Hot days sipping homemade watermelon juice, picnics in the park, swaying summer grass and straw hats.)

And the oyster rockefeller with bearnaise sauce - bacon, oysters, spinach, extra olive oil, anise liqueur.

(Nights spent eating tapas in Spain, traveling across Europe with a single suitcase shared between them both, cramped in the same bunk bed of their sleeper car.)

And who could forget the seared five-spice pork buns - pork belly, brown sugar, cilantro, five-spice powder, chinese steamed buns, hoisin and sriracha.

(All the wuxia classics on VHS, trying and failing to teach her to speak Chinese, laughing when her tongue curled and her eyes crossed…)

 

Well.  They had all been good, hadn’t they?

There was no beating around the bush on that.

And it was hard, really, so hard, to hate the young man when he made friends as swiftly and flawlessly as the food he prepared on a daily basis.

Sure, the boy’s high-pitched, almost girly laughter was one that still grated on his nerves with how often he heard it, but the man was surprising congenial for someone who had an intimidatingly fierce glare and full sleeves of tattoos.

He even tried to engage Kris in conversation occasionally, apparently not put off by their first few interactions, nor by the fact that Kris would end each and every interaction as frostily as he could.

Kris kept his distance from the enigma of a man when he could, but already, he could see the other’s influence spreading.

In just a week, the other cooks were full of nothing but praise for their new head chef, and even their tough cast of waiters (picky and teasing Baekhyun, notoriously frosty Nana, cheery yet distant Luhan) lingered in the kitchen, exchanging pleasantries with the man who still blared hip hop in the mornings like the restaurant was his own personal room.

It was such a contrast to their previous head chef who had kept to himself most of the time.

Though - it wasn’t to say that Chef Do’s food had been bad - in fact, it had always been fantastic.  Before being head chef at TableTops, he had been head chef at several other restaurants before, and for good reason.

Tao, on the other hand, might not have been as polished in technique and presentation as the well-trained, ever diligent Kyungsoo, but there was something… remarkably soulful.  Earnest.  Maybe even a little charmingly naive.  ...about the simple way he cooked.

Like now, as Kris eyed Tao’s reflection through the wine glasses he cleaned, watching the man fumble his way around with a piece of kitchen equipment that he’d clearly never used before.

Though he hid his flustered expression well, maintaining his cool posture as he leaned over the anti-griddle with crossed arms, from the way he cautiously poked at it, jumping a foot in the air when the machine made a loud noise, the confusion was palpable.

Kris wasn’t the only one to notice Tao’s strange behavior.  The true testament was the fact that even their bartender, Kim do-not-wake-me-for-anything-but-the-entire-building-on-fire-and-or-fried-chicken Jongin, noticed as well.

With a sleepy mutter, he turned from where he had been blearily wiping down the counter to give Kris a questioning jerk of his head in the chef’s direction.

Kris could only shrug, as bewildered as the other was.

Really - how was it possible that someone like that... could cook as well as he did?

 

-

 

One lesson Kris learned quickly as a single parent - children picked up on everything.

Kris had just finished fixing dinner for Kiara - a practical sandwich with all the right ts - multigrain bread, sliced turkey, provolone, Roma tomato, and butter lettuce all arranged evenly, spread with a thin layer of avocado mayonnaise and cut into perfect, exact triangles - and was still washing the dishes when he heard her mutter through a thick mouthful of bread, turkey and mayo.

“Chew and swallow, Kiara, before you speak.”  He reprimanded, turning the water off with an elbow as he shook the plate once, twice over the sink.

Sliding the dish into the drying rack, he wiped his hands on a dish rag, turning to see his daughter kicking her feet, furrowing her eyebrows as worked hard to chew and swallow her food thoroughly.

Kris sank into the seat by her side, sliding down and kicking his feet out one by one in a rare moment of tired inelegance.

He maintained the slumped position for a few seconds more, cherishing the brief silence before a childish innocent voice broke through.

“Who is Tao?”

Kris shot up in his seat, leaning toward her in surprise.  When she repeated the question a moment later, Kris shut his eyes, rubbing at his forehead.

“No one, Kiara, just one of the chefs I work with.”

She shrugged in a way that seemed more adult than child, taking another considering nibble at her sandwich.

“I don’t think he’s no one if you talk about him all the time.”

“I do not.”  Kris sighed back in an stern voice.  “Don’t lie.”

“I am not lying!  You do, you do!”

Kiara looked offended now, no longer kicking around as she looked away with a sulking expression.

Staring down at the brown and white grains between her fingers, the bright colors of the lettuce and the tomato and the cheese, she dropped her food back onto the plate, half finished as it was with tiny nibble marks along the edges.

“Kiara…”  Kris began, reprimanding and serious.  “Don’t be difficult.  Eat your food, please.”

In a moment of defiance, the normally well-behaved six year old looked cross, pinching her face as if she had just on a lemon.

No.  You said I was lying.  I was not!”

Kris ran a hand down his face in exhausted acceptance.

“Alright, Kiara, alright.  I may have mentioned his name once or twice, but that does not give you an excuse to not finish your food, alright?  Now please.”

Although she looked slightly appeased by her father’s admittance, leaning forward with a nod, she still picked at her food, poking and prodding at the perfectly cut slices with an unreadable expression.

“...what’s wrong now?”  Kris scooted inward, leaning onto his elbows as he pushed her plate closer.  “Not hungry?”

“I don’t want to eat the crust.”  She said, the dark brown edges of the bread.  “It tastes gross.  Hints of dryness.”

Hints of dryness’.  There she went again, trying so hard to emulate the words of her very own father.

Kris’ eyes softened, crinkling at the corners.

Biting back a snort and resting his cheek against his palm, all he could say in response was - “You’ve asked me this many times, Kiara.  My answer is always going to be the same.  It’s bad to waste perfectly good food, now eat up.”

“...I bet mom would have cut off the crust if I asked her.”  She whispered quietly, a few seconds later.

Kris slowly drew his head back, bringing his hands onto the table as he looked down at the faded gold band, still on his finger.

He traced it slowly, losing himself in the dull reflection within.

“Well, mom’s not here, Kiara.  I’m all you’ve got.”

She didn’t respond, and he didn’t expect her to.

Perhaps she felt bad though, for she comforted him in her own way, reaching out small hands to squeeze one of his own.

...she was all he had too.

 

-

 

He could have cared less about the man behind it all - but again, again, again, there was always something about his food.

As addicted as the chef was to his packs and packs and packs of Marlboro Red, so Kris was too over each secret bite that he snuck - each bite that was a journey into the past, a trip down memory lane both happy and sad.

It was just so strangely vivid, seeing those images of her it painted.

It must be devil’s magic, he’d mutter to Lay, back to the raging suspicion and conspiracy theories.  Yet even to Lay’s exasperated assurances that it was not, Kris couldn’t help but to chase the phantom traces of the woman he had once loved through each obsessively stolen spoonful of Tao’s perfectly crafted dishes.

(And though he tried so hard to avoid discussing it in front of her from the on, once the fixation had passed from him to her, a child’s curiosity was not one that was so easily sated.)

 

-

 

Hello, you’ve reached Kris Wu.

Unfortunately, I can’t come to the phone right now.

If you could please leave your message and a callback number after the tone, I will get back to you as soon as I can.

 

//Hey - hey Kris?  It’s Lay!

Uh, sorry about the late notice, hope you receive this in time, but uh - just calling to warn you - I completely forgot that my father was scheduled to remove a kidney stone today.

It’s no big deal, but I promised to drive him to the hospital, so unfortunately I don’t think I can watch over Kiara for tonight.

I’m coming over to the restaurant now, I know you’ll be getting off your shift soon, so I’ll just drop her off with Luhan at the front and head back out - hope that’s alright!//

 

-

 

He’d been held up later than usual by a stressed Italian wine distributor calling to let him know about frostbitten vineyards and the subsequent shortages it had caused in their supplies and shipments.

He’d lost track of time, leaning against the wall with the receiver held up to his face, speaking fast until he had finally negotiated for a complimentary double shipment of the next batch of wine.

Hanging up the phone, he took a second to sigh and stretch, popping his neck and shoulders against the stiff fabric of his black suit vest and fitted shirt.

Relaxing for just a second, a glance to the watch on his hand had him tensing again, realizing just how long he had spent on the phone.

A quick check to his cellphone had him dialing his voicemail, pulling his suit jacket one-handed from behind the bar as he strode toward the door.

Halfway out though, he was stopped by Luhan stepping into his path, holding out a hand to stop him.

Kris ended the call, sighing in a suffering ‘what-now’ tone that, as usual, seemed to do nothing to affect Luhan’s cheery expression, the bright smile plastered onto the other’s face.

“Hey,” The maitre d’ began, jerking a thumb behind him toward the door. “Lay just stopped by, said he had some things to do, and that he’d left you a voicemail.  I told him you were a bit busy, so he just dropped Kiara off.”

“Oh.”  Kris paused, looking past Luhan to see an empty waiting room, devoid of any eager and smiling six year old.

“Well then where…?”

Luhan shrugged, looking behind Kris to the still swinging double doors.

“She didn’t really stop to say hi.  Said she had to go meet someone, and ran straight through to the kitchen in a hurry.”

Kris narrowed his eyes.

 

-

 

“...what the hell?”

From over the top of the crate of kitchenware he carried in his arms, he could see a small child staring up at him.  Cute thing, with pigtails and big ole bug-eyes.

“Mister Tao?”

...What in the -?

Uhhhhh... yeah, that’s me?”

An up and down look that was way too intense to be coming from a pint-sized squirt.

“...you’re handsome!”

She lifted her hands up toward him, making expectant grabbing motions.  After an awkward pause, a silence held in comical disbelief and raised eyebrows, a smile crept onto his face and he set the crate aside, bending down to scoop her up and onto the counter where he could meet her gaze head on.

...thanks kid, you’re cute too…?  What’s your name?”

“I’m Kiara.  It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh and I get such polite words too?  Damn, I feel like I’m in the presence of a princess.”

That seemed to please her, as she suddenly smiled wide, showing off the gummy pink gap between her baby teeth.

“Well, Princess Kiara, what’re you doing walking amongst all us common folk?”

“I’m waiting for dad to get out of work.”

“Oh yeah?  And who’s your dad?  Don’t tell me it’s… Chanyeol?!

“No,” A long, high-pitched giggle, “It’s nooooot.  Dad’s much more handsome.  And tall!”

“I don’t know,” A joking, obviously teasing tone. “Chanyeol is prettttyy handsome to me.”

“Nuh-uh, dad’s more handsome!  And besides, Chanyeol has a girrrrlfriend.  Dad doesn’t.  He’s single.”

A snorting chuckle.

“Oh yeah?”

“Do you?”

“...do I what?”

“Do you have a -”

A third, booming voice, bursting into the room.

“Kiara!”

 

-

 

Tao had his hands on her waist, helping keep her balance from where she was perched precariously on the countertop.

Kris didn’t even want to think about how dirty it was, especially after the end of a long shift.

He scowled.

It took just a few long strides to reach them, pushing Tao aside and pulling his daughter off the table and into his arms like a clucking, angry mother hen.

Shushing her protests impatiently, he set her back down onto the floor, swatting lightly at her backside until she followed his sternly pointing finger out the kitchen doors (though not without a whine and a grumble, a head that swiveled back to stare for as long as she could through the swinging doors before they shut).

The moment the doors stopped swinging, Tao suddenly found himself cornered against the counter, hands raised in the air defensively.

Don’t talk to my daughter, do you hear me?”

“Jesus!” Tao swore, pushing the other’s pointing finger away from his chest.

“She’s the one who came in here to talk to me, alright?  I was having a chat with her, that’s all.  She seems like a good kid, though I don’t know if I can say the same thing about her dad, you pri -”

Kris gripped his collar tight, the sommelier’s grip surprisingly strong for someone who seemed so prissy and repressed.  Tao coughed, struggling against the other’s clenched hands.

“I swear to God, if she comes home speaking with a mouth as foul as yours…”

Tao finally pried the other’s grip off his shirt, shoving the man away roughly.

“What the hell is wrong with you?  For ’s sake,” The other cried, the first time Kris had ever seen the man clearly frustrated, cheeks flushed in anger.  “I was just talking to her like she should be talked to - like a real, intelligent person - not trapped in some stupid delicate bubble that you have her in!”

The look in Kris’ eyes was as cold as ice, everything in his body language screaming pissed-pissed-pissed, and yet Tao stood his ground, once again folding his arms over his chest, making sure his tattoos were showing, the muscles of his biceps clenched tight and intimidating.

He was expecting fighting words next, not at all what actually came out.

“Are you trying to criticise the way I’m raising my daughter?”

Tao threw up his hands in the air, rolling his eyes upward in exasperation.

“I - I’m not - no!  My ing God, I just don’t understand why you’re such an to me when I haven’t done a thing to you at all!  I mean - fine.  Yeah, , I smoke. I play loud music in the morning, I don’t wear fancy suits and ties like you do - but seriously, off, would you? You’ve been giving me this stinking attitude since day one, and I just don’t get it!  What, do you think my food’s not good enough?  That I’m not doing my job right?  Tell me, I’d like to know!”

It’s everything about you!, Kris wanted to snarl, shaking the chef until he spilled the secret of how it was so easy for him to dig under Kris’ skin.  Tell me how you do it!

But he kept quiet instead, and Tao continued his rant over his seething thoughts, flinging his arms open and wide.

“I mean, , if you’re always this uptight, I feel kinda bad for your kid now, dealing with your prissy !  I hope her mom makes up for the fact that you have such a ty atti -”

Kris had gone completely pale, still and silent.

“-tude...”

Tao wanted to put his foot in his mouth, feeling a sudden and cold spike of shame and dread creep down his back.  He slowly drew his arms back down to his sides.

“...oh.  Oh .”

Oh was right.

After a moment of nerve-wracking silence, Tao reached a hand out, only for it to be brushed away brusquely.

Although the touch was so much more gentle than the other’s aggressive advances just minutes before, Tao felt even more unease, watching the other completely shut down, pulling the walls that had just begun to crumble in anger back up tight around him.

And though Tao apologized, quiet and hesitant to the sommelier’s back, the other simply tightened his jaw, averting his gaze and walking out without a single word of goodbye.

 

-

 

...well!

There went the hope that he’d ever get along with the master sommelier.

…ever.

fffff.

 

-

 

“So you remember the new coworker I’ve been mentioning?  The kindergarten teacher?”

Kris grunted in response, rubbing at his temples with his fingers.

As per usual, Kris was over at Lay’s house for the weekend, only half-listening to his friend’s idle chatter.

Kiara was inside and dead asleep, legs and arms spread akimbo, mouth open and drooling onto the black leather of Lay’s comfortable couch.  

(It was a habit they were used to.  Lay had given up being upset about it.  There were worse things to get dirty.)

The two adults were outside, sharing a seat on Lay’s swinging porch chair while sipping homemade chilled lemonade out of mason jars.

The swing creaked silently under their combined weight.

“Well?”

Kris jerked out of his thoughts, making a questioning noise in Lay’s general direction.

“What do you think of her?”

Kris blinked slowly, looking over for the first time in minutes.

“Think of who?”

Lay sighed, knowing just how little the other had been paying attention.

“Tiffany.  The kindergarten teacher I’ve been talking about for the past five minutes?”

Kris shrugged, gaze slowly shifting back to the falling autumn leaves in Lay’s front yard.

“She’s fine, I guess.  What about her?”

“Well,” Lay began, shifting in his seat and leaning forward with a secretive look, “She’s told me on multiple occasions about how she’s seen you picking Kiara up from school, and how handsome she thinks you are.”

Sit forward, watch for any sign of reaction.

Absolutely none.  Zippo.  Nuh-uh.

“...She’s really cute, I’m sure you’ve seen her before.  And you’re single and ready to miiiingle!”

Sit even more forward, watch for any sign of reaction.

…Hmm.  Another approach maybe?

“Oh come on, I hear she’s got at least C cups.  You have got to be curious - I mean how long has it even been since you've even seen a pair of s?”

Sit forward to the point of almost falling out of the chair, still watching for any sign of reaction.

Crickets and tumbleweed.

He narrowed his eyes.

“Just kidding.  She’s actually an alien robot.  A bot from the future.  That’s right, all the newest state-of-the-art vibrating features.  Can give you twenty thousand volts straight to the s if you wanted her to.  What do you say, Kris, ready for some hot robo-dominatrix action?”

A dismissive hum was his only response and Lay took it as a sign to finally give up trying, facing away with a disappointed sigh and a shake of his head.

He wanted to ask about the source of the other’s foul mood, but didn’t really see the use.  The last few times he had tried, Kris had waved off his concern, blaming his distraction and dismissive responses on poor sleep.

Poor sleep his .  There was something obviously bothering him, and yet Lay couldn’t quite pin it down.

He just hoped that whatever it was, it would resolve itself soon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

Quartered Grilled Plums Wrapped in Prosciutto

(w/ goat cheese, honey, and a little Balsamic vinegar)

 

Recipe by:  audere

Ingredients:  Plums, prosciutto, goat cheese

Sauce Ingredients:  Aged black balsamic vinegar, honey, and a bit of soy sauce to balance out the flavours.

Walnut Brittle Ingredients:  Caramel, Sichuan peppercorn

 

Instructions:

  1. Slice around the stone of the plum, cutting it in half.  Twist the two halves of the plum, and it should come apart if it isn't overripe, with the stone in one half. Repeat the process with the half that has the plum stone in it; cut your plum into quarters. 
  2. Scoop your cheese into roughly half-teaspoon amounts. 
  3. Lightly oil a grill (or a grill pan), and place the cut plums on the grill top so that the lines from the grill go diagonally along the cut side, and not vertically or horizontally.
  4. Turn them to the other cut side after about two or so minutes, enough time to get light grill marks. 
  5. Get the plums off the grill, skin side down, let cool for a moment, and place a little ball of cheese in the little place where the plum stone used to be.
  6. Wrap with a slice of prosciutto around the wide part of the plum, making sure the corners are still peeking out, and skewer with a bamboo toothpick.
  7. Caramel:  
    1.75 cups sugar
    0.25 cups corn syrup
    1.25 cups shelled and roasted unsalted walnuts

    1 tsp baking soda
    1 pinch ground Sichuan peppercorn

    1/2 pinch sea salt
  8. In a pot, mix the sugar and corn syrup with enough water to hydrate all the sugar, creating something that looks kind of like wet sand. It's fine if you accidentally use too much water; it's going to evaporate anyway. 
  9. Take a wet pastry brush (or your fingers) and wipe at any stray sugar crystals at the sides of the pot. 
  10. Heat on high until your sugar is completely dissolved and bubbling; at no point should you touch your caramel, unless it's to get rid of stray bits of sugar on the sides of the pot. When it turns a light golden brown, take it off the heat and add in your salt and pepper and baking soda.
  11. Make sure you used a pretty tall pot, because when you add in the spices, your caramel is going to bubble up like a mad scientist's latest project. This is normal! Don't worry about it. It's fine. I promise.
  12. Stir to combine with a heatproof rubber spatula (carefully, because hot sugar is actually the fourth level of hell), and then stir in your walnuts. 
  13. Pour all of this out onto a sheet tray lined with a silicone baking mat. If you don't have one, just very thoroughly spray a sheet tray with some form of nonstick spray. Wait for it to cool down completely before reducing it to large crumbs in a food processor. (If you're not serving this to impress anyone, you can absolutely skip the food processor, and just break it into shards with your hands once it's cool.)
  14. Your walnut brittle is composed of the following: walnuts in caramel with a pinch of ground Sichuan peppercorn for a kick, cooled down and then chopped very finely in a food processor. This is used mainly for plating, though. 
  15. Using a long, thin white rectangular plate, use two dabs of balsamic honey sauce on opposite corners of the plate and smear it in a straight line horizontally across the plate.
  16. Place three plums onto the plate in a diagonal line, each nested in a little bit of crushed walnut brittle so the plums doesn't slide around unattractively on the plate.  Do a thin drizzle of balsamic honey sauce on top of each plum.

(And then yell for a waiter to pick it up.)

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bbe1989
Chapter nine is coming out tonight, I'm leaving some gap time between the rereleased chapter 8 and the last chapter, but I'll be updating again tonight

Comments

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shonwanigop
#1
💙
INFTJazm
#2
Chapter 9: Deserves all the love <3
INFTJazm
#3
Chapter 9: So brilliant honestly thank youuuuu
INFTJazm
#4
Chapter 9: THIS WAS LIKE AN UPGRADED VER OF RATATOUILLE ENDING... A THOUSAND TIMES BETTER. AND MAAM LA VIE EN ROSE AS ENDING???!? PERFECTON. CHEF’S KIS!!!!! pls send the chef my regards 💜
INFTJazm
#5
Chapter 8: Crying at2am bec of this
chika1611 #6
Chapter 9: I kept grinning and weeping in every chapter, and again fell in love more with taoris, and also the little princess kiara <3
ExoticPandragons
#7
Chapter 9: Back again with another wave of tears. I genuinely don’t understand how this makes me the same amount of emotional every single damn time I read this. It pulls at all of my heart strings and puts me in a world I wasn’t ready for. Beautiful is an understatement when it comes to this fic. Mesmerizing. Enrapturing. And honestly a piece I will take to my grave. Bless.
ExoticPandragons
#8
Chapter 9: Always rereading. This story sits in a very special place in my heart. Never fails to make me emotional and a little more appreciative.
martin16
#9
Chapter 9: I just read this again and oh god this is just such a beautiful fix.
Jiji313 #10
Chapter 6: Oh my god I’ve read this story so many times and only just now did I come to the realization that Kiara knows it’s Tao that’s smoking and holding her, and he’s shocked bc she called him daddy, not because she is half asleep and thinks it’s Kris who used to smoke. Or maybe I’m reading into it too much and had it right the first time?? And THIS is why I reread good stories bc you always get something new out of it. Only good stories can be reread for new information every time and I’m so appreciative of that