Chapter 19
The Bed Bath and Beyond on Southeast Washington Street was like a Target on steroids. The tightly packed aisles had everything one could ever need to become Donna Reed. Well, except for the pearls. Pearls were sold separately. We were finding all the items on Monroe's list and beyond. I understood the name of the store now.
"This set of knives will chop the hell out of your root vegetables, but then these will work better for your softer varieties, like tomatoes," said Monroe as he held up the sharp blades that were similar to the ones that were magnetized by his stove.
"There's not one knife to rule them all?" I asked with a grin and Monroe laughed.
"While I appreciate the Tolkien reference, no, you need different knives for different tasks."
The cart filled quickly with each passing moment. From cast iron skillets to Dutch ovens, balloon whisks and colanders, I wasn't even questioning the purchases anymore. Monroe would 'ooh' and 'ahh,' and in the basket it went. I'd never seen a man so into shopping before. Women would pass by and give me a silly grin, just watching him. I glanced up at Monroe. Did he know how appealing he must look? A man who liked shopping was a rare find, and mine was practically giddy. I held his arm and gave a nod as I received a few jealous looks in return. Yes ladies, this Blutbad is taken. Move along.
Monroe stopped the cart and gave me a look. "What are you grinning about?"
"Oh, nothing," I said. For a man with enhanced senses, he was oblivious to women checking him out. Well, that was actually a good thing in a way. "I'll tell you in the car."
The final aisle held the best item of all: the French press.
"Now they sell metal ones like these," Monroe said while pointing out a few on the shelves, "But I'd recommend getting a glass one like mine, so you can check that no grounds are escaping the filter."
I picked up a glass one that almost resembled a beer stein. "This one seems nice."
"Yeah, that's a top of the line Grosche model. A little pricey, but worth it."
I put it in the cart. "But what about grinders? Do I need a Burr Mill… one?"
Monroe shook his head with a grin. "We can get you something a bit easier to use."
"But will it taste as good as what you make?"
"Well, you gotta have a little know-how and some experience to make it the way I do." His response was smug, but he had every right to be. The man made a darn good cup of coffee.
"I trust your know-how to pick me out an acceptable grinder."
Monroe nodded. "Yeah, I figured you would."
After Monroe put a grinder in the cart we made our way to the checkout lanes.
"That'll be five-hundred twenty dollars and ninety-four cents," said the clerk.
"Five-hundred… what?" Monroe reached for his hair.
I searched for my wallet in my bag. "I've got it."
Monroe grabbed my hand. "No, I've got this. I told you I'd take care of it."
"Really, Monroe, it's fine."
Monroe pulled his wallet from his back pocket. "I've got it." His eyes widened and that authority came through. I gave in to the hospitality. But, I didn't want him going over his budget because of me.
Once everything was packed in the back of the VW, we got inside and buckled up. Monroe removed a handkerchief as he sneezed.
"Gesundheit," I said.
He shook his head and let out a small groan. "Danke," he managed to reply.
I reached for his shoulder. "Oh, Monroe. I really hope you get over this soon."
He put his handkerchief back in his pocket. Only he would carry one.
"Eh, I'll be fine. It'll run its course."
"About these purchases… You sure I can't go in half on what you spent today?" I asked as Monroe started the ignition.
Monroe shook his head quickly. "I wanted to do this. I just wasn't calculating it to be, umm, that much."
"Well it was awfully sweet of you," I said. "I only hope I'll be able to use everything."
Monroe gave me a smirk as he got back on the I-84. "We'll work on it." He focused back on the road. "So, what were you grinning about earlier?"
"Oh, that," I chuckled. "You had quite a few admirers back there."
"Admirers?"
"Yeah. Some of the women were practically drooling while you were getting excited about cutlery."
"Really? Who knew?" he replied with a slight grin. "So was that why you had a firm grip on my arm throughout most of the trip?"
"Well, I didn't want them to think you were available."
"Marking me as yours, huh?"
"No, uh, I didn't mean it like that," I stammered out quickly. "I'm not the possessive type or anything." A burst of heat crept up my cheeks. Crap, I didn't want him to think I was trying to sink my claws into him, although I kind of was.
Monroe reached for my hand. "Nothing wrong with that."
We deviated off the interstate since Monroe wanted to stop by Whole Foods for ingredients for dinner. I checked my phone; we'd been out for an hour already.
"This will be quick, I promise," said Monroe.
Another thirty minutes and we were headed back to my house. During the trip he picked out various whole spices to 'replace my generic ones.' I also got a small grinder to go along with it. Fortunately, Monroe allowed me to pay for this shopping trip. He had spent enough money today and he was cooking. The least I could do was buy the ingredients. He couldn't refute my logic.
After Monroe unpacked his purchases, I didn't recognize the place. My kitchen looked like something out of a Good Housekeeping magazine with everything arranged on the counter. I had to admit it looked pretty nice. My new French press and grinder set side-by-side and I ran my hand across the plunger. Monroe-made coffee in my house. Now I was the giddy one.
With my new accessories we chopped, sliced, grated, and prepared for a Moroccan vegetarian stew with couscous and stuffed peppers.
"So what is coriander exactly?" I asked as I held up the spice bottle.
Monroe shook his head as he added the vegetables to the Dutch oven. "It's dried cilantro seeds."
"So… It's dried cilantro, but it's called coriander? But I've seen dried cilantro before." I read the back of the bottle as Monroe laughed.
"The Latin name for the herb is Coriandrum sativum, from which the word 'coriander' is ultimately derived. Now the word 'cilantro' is from the Spanish translation. The leaves and stalks are considered cilantro, while the seeds go by the Latin derivative coriander. Now over in the UK, they don't even use the term 'cilantro' at all. It's either coriander, or coriander seeds. Funny how we're all supposed to speak English, but then you have a word like that and it's completely different. Night and day, you know?" Monroe looked down at the Dutch oven. "Crap, I need to get these other vegetables in or it won't cook right."
"You are a man of vast knowledge," I replied as he worked to fill the pot.
He turned as he wiggled his eyebrows. "And that's just one herb. Imagine what I could tell you about the other ones over there."
"I have no doubt," I replied with a grin. "This is why the women were watching you at the grocery store, too."
"You know, I think you're making all these women up. I've never been approached at the store." He looked up like he was thinking. "Well, there was this one time, but that was… Yeah, that wasn't such a good experience."
I wasn't about to ask.
"So anything else I can help with?"
"I think we have it all cooking." He moved to my cabinets. "You wanna set the table?"
I nodded. "Pass me the plates."
The table was set with my new gray placemats and we used the new serving bowls for the stew and peppers. I lit a taper candle as the centerpiece. The table looked like a real dining room table. I was impressed.
"This is… really nice," I said as we ate.
"So, better than take out?"
"Absolutely," I said between bites. "This stew is delicious."
"Not too spicy?" Monroe asked as he set his fork down.
"I enjoy a bit of spice," I grinned.
"Me too, to be honest. It's good to help beat a cold. Some people just can't handle it, though." He resumed eating.
I raised an eyebrow. "Then they don't know what they're missing."
A/N: So our Blutbad has some admirers. lol
Just a bit of Monroe-ish trivia with herbs here. You always learn something new with my stories, right?
Next chapter is research time!