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The Meal that Came in Courses

She accepted the tall glass of apéritif champagne. There was already a tray of canapés on the table, all decadent dark bread, foie gras, caviar and hazelnut crumbles.

Popping one of the little nibbles into her mouth she sighed. "You know—I thought about doing something like this instead of becoming a housekeeper—"

Severus arched a brow at her, "What is this?"

"Running away to Paris and becoming a simple line cook."

He ran a slender finger over his bottom lip. "You never did explain how you ended up in Wolden."

Elaine shrugged, remembering how she had neatly evaded his questions in the interview, "Breakdowns for chefs—even award winning ones—aren't big news. I couldn't sleep, basically stopped eating, and hardly went home from the restaurant. I was completely run down and getting sick. My doctor told me I had a few months before something serious happened."

"I knew who you were before you came, you know." His tone was slightly defensive, as though he thought she might not approve of his knowing.

"I know—but I didn't want you to think that I wasn't up for the task."

The first course, an amuse-bouche of confit salmon and cucumber drizzled with crème fraiche, appeared before them as the boat, loosed from the moorings, glided out onto the Seine.

"So you gave up your position and headed for the country?"

She inclined her head. "My sister said it was the only way to make a clean enough break from the restaurant to actually recover. I didn't run right out to Wolden, anyway. My sister lives in America—New York—and I visited her for a bit to recuperate."

They glided next to L'Assemblée Nationale as the second course was delivered, sea scallops with truffles and raisins and a glass of delicately fragranced honeyed lime Chablis Grand Cru wine.

"What about you—why Wolden?"

Severus watched the waiter pour a Pessac-Léognan red to accompany the seared duck breast with ripe pear and bourbon sauce of the third course.

They floated past the lighted building of Le Musée D'Orsay, L'Institut De France, towards La Bibliothéque National de France.

"I—well—" he seemed to be considering his story carefully. "I cut ties with my old life and I had always wanted to live in the country. I grew up in an area of old industry. I was there for a couple years by myself but—" His eyes were hard and black.

"Being alone is difficult."

They were turning back now, towards Notre Dame and the Louvre.

Sometime later, while sipping the Trockenbeerenauslese Riesling and contemplating if she could fit anymore of the bittersweet chocolate mousse with salted caramel into her mouth, he continued softly. "Well—I'm not alone now."

She looked up, seeing him in the light of La Statue de La Liberté. He was still, his narrow face tense as he watched her.

"We are not alone now."

He looked away, a faint blush rising in his cheeks.

Bittersweet, #57

I am sad to say that there were three more courses I had to cut to make my 500-word chapter—you missed out on the cheese plate, sweet yogurt and the digestif.

Apéritif - an alcoholic drink that are normally served a meal to stimulate the appetite. It is usually dry rather than sweet.

Canapés – refers to a type of hors d'œuvre (appetizers that are eaten before the main course) that is small, decorative and can be eaten from the fingers in one bite.

Amuse-bouche – literally translated as "mouth amuser," is a single, bite-sized hors d'œuvre chosen by the chef rather than the guest. It is served to offer a glimpse into the chef's approach to the art of cuisine.

Digestif – like an apéritif it is an alcoholic beverage served after a meal to aid digestion. When served after a coffee course, it may be called pousse-café.