The main course of sautés reins is not a French dish. Dr. Lecter had
simply translated the name so that his charge would not know what they
were. Despite her previous protests, Erin had indeed contributed to the
meal. After Dr. Lecter had removed her kidneys, he had refrigerated them
until the night before, soaked them overnight in distilled water flavored
with a bit of lemon, cut them into medallions, and sautèed them in Charante
butter. Then he had sprinkled flour over them and carefully blended in the
richest milk he could find. When the cream sauce was ready, he blended in
Harvey's Bristol Cream sherry. Although she had been diagnosed with kidney
disease, Dr. Lecter had been unable to find any indication that they would
be inedible.
He spooned several medallions onto her plate, and then gave her some of the side dish he had prepared – a handmade spinach mousselline. Next, he filled her glass one-third full with of Bâtard-Montrachet from her birth year. Dr. Lecter was fond of giving women fine wine matched to their birth year – it seemed to him a tasteful and personalized gift. Only after serving himself did he sit down. He did not begin eating immediately. It was pleasant enough to watch her. Dr. Lecter's life as a fugitive did not often allow him the opportunity to dine with women.
She cut a medallion carefully and lifted it to her lips. Dr. Lecter smiled externally. Internally he kept a close watch to see if she would detect anything out of the ordinary. She tried a bite, tasted it, chewed, and swallowed. A puzzled look crossed her face.
"Do you like it?" he asked, enjoying the smear of butter on her lip.
"Yes…it's different, though. But I usually don't eat,…" she trailed off, searching for words. "Gourmet food." She chuckled. "Usually it's ramen noodles or pizza for me."
Dr. Lecter nodded, smiling. Behind the smile, his mind was busily calculating: her body weight; the amounts of the various drugs he had given her; how they interacted with alcohol; and if there would be some problem arising from that. He did not think there would be, but decided to limit her to one glass only. She might ramble, but he would forgive her that.
He waited until she had eaten four or five more medallions before starting his own. The taste was not bad. Normally, kidneys were best served fresh, but he knew a great deal about how to properly keep meat. And the chance to dine in an elegant setting was well worth it.
"Actually, I like this," Erin said. "What is it again?"
"Sautés reins," Dr. Lecter repeated gently.
"French food."
"One could say," Dr. Lecter agreed. "Although this sample comes to us by way of Ireland."
"I'm Irish," Erin piped up. "By ancestry, I mean."
Dr. Lecter already knew this from a hypnosis session, which is why he had said it. "Do you know where from?"
"I'm not sure," she confessed. "Dublin, I think. Noplace real fun."
"Dublin's a fine city," he said."
"Never been there. Couldn't afford it." She giggled.
Dr. Lecter told her about his travels in Europe before, neglecting to explain that they were before his incarceration. He was tossing around the idea of returning and told her so. As he talked and she asked him questions about Europe, they slowly finished. Once Erin had eaten her entire kidney, and Dr. Lecter the other, he served dessert. It was a nice chocolate torte that Dr. Lecter had purchased at a nearby bakery. She quite liked it, as he suspected she would. After that, he offered her a cappucino and rose from the table.
"Oh no," she said, and stood herself.
"No cappucino?" he asked, slightly alarmed.
"No, you sit down. You've done everything. I am going to make the cappucino," she said. She favored him with a slightly woozy smile. With that, she marched through the kitchen door to Dr. Lecter's espresso machine and stared at it carefully for a moment or two.
Dr. Lecter remained seated, but kept an eye on her. She didn't seem to be having trouble with the machine; she reached experimentally for the filter basket latch and managed to unlatch it. With the speed of great experience, she dumped it, spooned in more, and started it brewing. As the smell of espresso began to fill the kitchen, she returned to the dining room and seemed very pleased with herself.
"Just a few minutes," she explained. "That's a consumer machine."
"I see. Is it worse than the ones you use?"
"Not worse. Consumer grade, I guess. The machines we use are heavy duty. Built for restaurants, you know."
"I suppose I wouldn't need one like that," Dr. Lecter said. He then stood up. "But I do need to put the dishes away, and that I will have to insist you not help with. Your back, you know."
She blinked and nodded.
Dr. Lecter gathered up his own plate and setting, put it on his cart, and then collected hers. He rolled it into the kitchen and placed the dishes in the sink. He frothed milk for the cappucino and poured two cups. He brought them directly into the sitting room. After he finished with the kitchen chores, he helped Erin from her chair and guided her into the sitting room. The house included a piano, which had been out of tune when he arrived. He sat her down on a seat near the piano, so she would be able to better appreciate it. It was a padded, comfortable chair. Dr. Lecter had selected it deliberately.
He spooned several medallions onto her plate, and then gave her some of the side dish he had prepared – a handmade spinach mousselline. Next, he filled her glass one-third full with of Bâtard-Montrachet from her birth year. Dr. Lecter was fond of giving women fine wine matched to their birth year – it seemed to him a tasteful and personalized gift. Only after serving himself did he sit down. He did not begin eating immediately. It was pleasant enough to watch her. Dr. Lecter's life as a fugitive did not often allow him the opportunity to dine with women.
She cut a medallion carefully and lifted it to her lips. Dr. Lecter smiled externally. Internally he kept a close watch to see if she would detect anything out of the ordinary. She tried a bite, tasted it, chewed, and swallowed. A puzzled look crossed her face.
"Do you like it?" he asked, enjoying the smear of butter on her lip.
"Yes…it's different, though. But I usually don't eat,…" she trailed off, searching for words. "Gourmet food." She chuckled. "Usually it's ramen noodles or pizza for me."
Dr. Lecter nodded, smiling. Behind the smile, his mind was busily calculating: her body weight; the amounts of the various drugs he had given her; how they interacted with alcohol; and if there would be some problem arising from that. He did not think there would be, but decided to limit her to one glass only. She might ramble, but he would forgive her that.
He waited until she had eaten four or five more medallions before starting his own. The taste was not bad. Normally, kidneys were best served fresh, but he knew a great deal about how to properly keep meat. And the chance to dine in an elegant setting was well worth it.
"Actually, I like this," Erin said. "What is it again?"
"Sautés reins," Dr. Lecter repeated gently.
"French food."
"One could say," Dr. Lecter agreed. "Although this sample comes to us by way of Ireland."
"I'm Irish," Erin piped up. "By ancestry, I mean."
Dr. Lecter already knew this from a hypnosis session, which is why he had said it. "Do you know where from?"
"I'm not sure," she confessed. "Dublin, I think. Noplace real fun."
"Dublin's a fine city," he said."
"Never been there. Couldn't afford it." She giggled.
Dr. Lecter told her about his travels in Europe before, neglecting to explain that they were before his incarceration. He was tossing around the idea of returning and told her so. As he talked and she asked him questions about Europe, they slowly finished. Once Erin had eaten her entire kidney, and Dr. Lecter the other, he served dessert. It was a nice chocolate torte that Dr. Lecter had purchased at a nearby bakery. She quite liked it, as he suspected she would. After that, he offered her a cappucino and rose from the table.
"Oh no," she said, and stood herself.
"No cappucino?" he asked, slightly alarmed.
"No, you sit down. You've done everything. I am going to make the cappucino," she said. She favored him with a slightly woozy smile. With that, she marched through the kitchen door to Dr. Lecter's espresso machine and stared at it carefully for a moment or two.
Dr. Lecter remained seated, but kept an eye on her. She didn't seem to be having trouble with the machine; she reached experimentally for the filter basket latch and managed to unlatch it. With the speed of great experience, she dumped it, spooned in more, and started it brewing. As the smell of espresso began to fill the kitchen, she returned to the dining room and seemed very pleased with herself.
"Just a few minutes," she explained. "That's a consumer machine."
"I see. Is it worse than the ones you use?"
"Not worse. Consumer grade, I guess. The machines we use are heavy duty. Built for restaurants, you know."
"I suppose I wouldn't need one like that," Dr. Lecter said. He then stood up. "But I do need to put the dishes away, and that I will have to insist you not help with. Your back, you know."
She blinked and nodded.
Dr. Lecter gathered up his own plate and setting, put it on his cart, and then collected hers. He rolled it into the kitchen and placed the dishes in the sink. He frothed milk for the cappucino and poured two cups. He brought them directly into the sitting room. After he finished with the kitchen chores, he helped Erin from her chair and guided her into the sitting room. The house included a piano, which had been out of tune when he arrived. He sat her down on a seat near the piano, so she would be able to better appreciate it. It was a padded, comfortable chair. Dr. Lecter had selected it deliberately.
