OMG it’s Monday: Cooking with Characters

I did a guest blog a few weeks ago to promote a new cookbook by the hot Aussie Dan Churchill. The assignment was to have my HISTORICAL characters cook and enjoy one of his recipes. The blog ended up so cute, I thought (as I’m recovering from RT) that I’d send it out to all of you.


 

Trevor Anaedsley, future duke of Timby, stood non-plused in a location beyond his ken. It was a bright place with steel fixtures and white counter tops. And in the middle of it was his lovely wife, Mellie whistling as she did something with foodstuffs.

            It’s a dream, she said before he could ask. You must be hungry because I’m cooking.

            Cooking, he gasped appalled. We have a cook for that.

            I know, but I wanted to try something new.

            Cooking? he repeated flabbergasted. Why?

            She looked up and grinned. Because it’s fun. I’m making a fritatta.

            Trevor had no response to that. He was too busy trying to decided if his wife had said something scandalous. He hoped so. There were plenty of lovely flat surfaces that could be put to better use than Good God, what is that?

            It’s a leek. A vegetable.

            He curled his hand away from her as she rapidly sliced up the appalling thing in a way that put paid to all his scandalous thoughts. A woman who could wield a knife like that should be avoided. At least until she put the sharp steel away. Then she motioned to a bowl of dark green leaves.

            That’s spinach, she said.

            I will not eat that, he said sternly. Vegetables are for peasants. Plus they were always stringy and tasted of absolutely nothing good.     Mellie just smiled, refusing to be drawn into an argument. It was one of the ways she scolded him for acting childish. She never said a word, but he soon dropped his head on his fist and reconsidered his decision. And while he tried to be stubborn, the scent of sweet onions on the cookstove filled the air and his stomach growled. Damnation, how could he be so hungry even in a dream?

            Is there going to be any meat in there? he grumbled.

            I was going to put in ham

            Good. He liked ham.

            But I think not. You’ll just take a bite and claim it was the meat. You, sir, are going to try the vegetarian version.

            I will not! He straightened into his most ducal pose. It didn’t work. She wasn’t even looking at him as she threw the mixture on top of the onions. A moment later, his scientific mind took over and he frowned at the bizarre concoction. It didn’t look appetizing at allnot with all those vegetables in itbut it smelled wonderful. How did you learn to do that?

            It’s easy. There’s a video.

            What’s a video?

            I have no idea. It’s just something you say in dreams.

            He tried to puzzle that out, especially as she put the entire mixturepan and allinto a hot cabinet. An oven but not like any oven he’d ever seen. Is it done yet?

            I thought you weren’t going to eat it.

            He huffed out a breath and chose to be magnanimous. I have decided that trying new things is a good idea. After all, she’d taught him so very many new things during their bizarre courtship. Which was surprising given she was just an innocent girl from the country and he the experienced man of the world. I will give this a fair trial.

            I think that’s very judicious of you, she responded as she pulled the thing out of the oven.

            He gave her a piercing look that discomfited her not at all. Then he saw the mischievous twinkle in her eye and knew that she had the right of it. Just because she didn’t do things his way didn’t mean she was wrong. In fact, because of her he had done things not even imaginable a year before. And now they were going to try

            What’s this called again?

            A breakfast fritata. http://www.danielchurchill.com.au/video/my-breakfast-frittata#t

            Nervously, he grabbed a fork and teased out a tiny bite.

            Oh my God that’s wonderful! It’s even better than the turkey! He took another bite. And another.

            Meanwhile, his wife was gaping at him, clearly appalled. We did not eat the turkey.

            No they hadn’t, more’s the pity. Well, then this is better than I imagine the turkey would have tasted had we eaten it.

            She nodded to him, her smile sweet. And then he got to watch her eat, her face lifted and her eyelids dropping as she moaned a soft sound of delight. He understood. The food was that good. And yet, the sounds she was making gave him entirely different thoughts.

            Let’s wake up. I have a better idea about what we can do. Awake.

            She shook her head. Not until after we finish this. I’m not leaving until it’s all gone.

            He had no problem with that. In fact, if he could manage it, he’d make this a nightly ritual.

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