Zimmer: Feasting & Dancing

22

Renate had specifically requested Bellamy’s vanilla crème brûlée for the dessert and as those had to set, Amelia decided to get on with them first of all that morning after the last slice of panforte and a couple of espressos under her belt. She readied all the ingredients on her kitchen counter, just enough for 8 servings which would be perfect enough, leaving only one spare for the next day’s indulgence.

75g caster sugar

5 egg yolks

2 vanilla pods

500ml milk

450ml double cream

Demerara sugar

She preheated the oven to 140C and next mixed the caster sugar and egg yolks together in a bowl. Splitting the vanilla pods in half, she scraped the seeds out into the milk and cream in a pan. Pouring the cream on to the yolks, she gently combined it all and then passed it through a strainer, to strain out the pods, but not the seeds. Dividing the mixture between 8 small, round, eared dishes, she left them in a bain-marie in the oven for 40 minutes, while she fixed herself another espresso, the lack of sleep looming on her ever so slightly.

Once her timer had buzzed, she allowed them to cool and set and then placed them all in the fridge to chill. She would sprinkle with the Demerara sugar later and glaze them with a blow torch. The sugar would be set hard and ready for that especially rewarding first crack upon serving. A classic dessert for the classy lady that Renate was in buckets, Amelia had to agree.

Finally, it was time to head to the fishmonger’s as the she was in need of crab shell, skate and the freshest of shrimp. Changing and heading out the door, with little time to spare today, she decided to take her grandfather’s old fiat into town that morning.

Having arrived home, it was time to move onto the second course of crab bisque. In a large pan, she heated two carrots, two small fennel bulbs, a leek, two garlic cloves, a large handful of fresh sprigs of tarragon, and a couple of strands of fresh saffron. She added two cooked crab shells and left it all to simmer away for 15 minutes while the vegetables softened. Next came 4 tomatoes and a couple of heaped teaspoons of tomato purée. She continued to cook for another 5 minutes and then poured in 300ml of brandy that she’d reduce to two thirds, before pouring in 300ml of dry white wine. Finally she added 2 litres of fish stock and left it all to continue simmering for a further half an hour, while she nipped off to shower quickly. Before she made her way over to Renate’s she would blitz the bisque and strain it through a clean muslin cloth to ensure a silken texture.

Showered and feeling refreshed and more herself again, two meals for the night ahead already all but good to go, Amelia made a large pitcher of lemonade, setting it outside on the patio with her paper, paints and brushes to finish off the last couple of pages of her children’s books and do some final touch ups here and there.

Though she doubted she would win, it was exciting to hope all the same. In rapt attention, the hours disappeared until done, Amelia looked on all she’d accomplished, pleased indeed with the end result. All she had to do now was leave the final pieces to dry off, before making copies and sealing them up and dropping them off at the post office before she made her way to Renate where she would be cooking the rest of the evening’s four course menu.

Loading the old fiat carefully with the crème brûlées and the crab bisque along with the other ingredients she would need for the ceviche of shrimp and the main course, Amelia dressed in all the finery from Renate’s dressing the day before, with a spritz or two of her grandmother’s perfume. She took her apron along too for good measure. It would be disastrous should she spill on such a beautiful dress. Best to take extra precautions.

She followed Renate’s directions and arrived at her house in only moments.

“Dahling!” Renate came to meet her at the door and offload. This time Renate had outdone herself, in a flowing, cream silk Valentino gown with long billowing sleeves and a high neck, the very epitome of sheer, unadulterated elegance and refinery.

“Renate, you look absolutely stunning!”

“Well it is a dinner party of the highest order after all... And one must dress the part, no?” She smiled kindly, like the benefactress she truly was. “Now, come, come, and meet my Pierre, and my dear Brigitta. They have heard all about this famous friend of mine who is a whizz in the kitchen!”

Amelia went out into the garden. An expansive lawn luxuriant and plush, with white roses and pots of white amaryllis everywhere you looked, ivy growing along the walls. The professor had clearly worked his charms yet again.

“Amelia... Meet Pierre and Brigitta.”

They made their pleasantries and Amelia keenly observed them, the son being the splitting image of his father she imagined, so very different to Renate beyond those selfsame dark eyes, with a mop of sandy blonde hair. The daughter, though her eyes were piercing blue, had adopted mannerisms so very like her mother, and was absolutely resplendent as Amelia thought her mother must have been once, in a low cut, silk blue dress with diamanté trimmings and spaghetti thin straps, so clearly another fashionista in the family.

“Our mother has taken a shining to you,” Pierre remarked with a smile. “Gita and I are only too thrilled that you have been such a very dear friend to her. We can rest easy at night knowing she is in good hands. So thank you.”

“Thank you, but honestly I’d be lost without her too... A right ragamuffin I was when I first entered her shop.”

“Now, now, dahling,” Renate interjected. “I never kiss and tell!”

Amelia excused herself and mosied over to the professor and Tal and Jonathan, spotting them at the other end of the garden near the dining table that had been set up for the evening outside with a white tablecloth and beset with exquisite fine china and silverware polished beyond fault. But then, could she expect any less of Renate?

“Fancy seeing you here!” The professor kissed her lightly on the cheek. “And I have to say, looking quite the belle of the ball!”

“I have to agree with my father there, Amelia,” Jonathan in turn took his chance to kiss her lightly on the cheek, causing her to blush almost instantly.

She quickly turned to Tal, hoping that her nerves might steady if she avoided eye contact with Jonathan. She admonished herself for behaving like a little schoolgirl with a crush. It made her feel so very foolish.

“Tal, I seem to distinguish something new that I can’t quite put my finger on...” She teased him gently, pointing to the loafers he wore on his feet.

“Ah, well, what can you do, when the circumstances demand even I, for all my rough edges, have a surprise or two up my sleeve. But you, you are beyond the picture of perfection. Renate must have a muse in you methinks... Although I’d hoped she’d not picked favourites of us, eh, professor?”

At this the professor laughed but cast his gaze downwards, almost bashfully, like a naughty boy caught out for eating the last biscuit in the cookie jar.

“All I know is I’m sworn to secrecy, for now,” the professor eventually countered and grinned, this time like the cat that got the cream, clear for all to see as his eyes drifted off and fixed on Renate simply glowing in all her splendour. She was slowly walking over towards them, and masterfully across the lawn in her leather cream stilettos, Amelia had to marvel.

“Dahling, the band is about to start, so how about a little champagne before we relinquish you to the kitchen for the starters?” She heralded a server with a tray of bubbly over to them, ensuring each and every one received a full flute. “Here’s to happy endings!”

They chinked glasses with the professor and Renate not once taking their eyes off of each other. Amelia, noticing, gestured to Jonathan who shrugged his shoulders and looked on his father with nothing but adoration and generosity.

Soon enough Amelia excused herself to prepare the starter of shrimp ceviche. Making sure to first don her apron, she diced the fresh, de-shelled shrimp into tiny cubes, and marinated them in lime juice. Allowing them 20 minutes to marinade, finally, she combined the shrimp with finely diced tomato, avocado, a habanero chilli, and a generous helping of chopped leaves of coriander and plated it in 7 small glass tumblers for serving, with a dash of Tabasco in each glass. The servers sending the plates out, Amelia took her seat at the table where Renate had sneakily set her next to the professor’s son.

“This is so delicious, Amelia. It takes me back to my time in Peru where ceviche may as well be a national dish. Have you ever been to South America?” Jonathan turned his attentions to Amelia.

“I’ve always wanted to go to the sloth sanctuary in Costa Rica,” Amelia offered, wistfully, feeling so very contented in his company, as worldly as he seemed.

“Well, perhaps we can go together one day,” Jonathan suggested, leaving Amelia to wonder if perhaps he felt the same way about her as she did him, this indelible spark of something so thrilling but unnerving all the same. And yet, in another moment, feeling all at once home again, even in his scent that simply smelt like a homecoming. How bizarre biology could be... That some people even smelt of a sweet and safe return. Before she could muse any further, or betray herself in front of Jonathan, the plates were cleared and it was time for the bisque.

All the work already done and dusted, Amelia warmed the soup and the bowls and sent it out with the servers, rather impressed with herself thus far.

So far, so good, the thought. On to the skate...

She prepped the counter in Renate’s expansive kitchen.

7 skate wings

2 tablespoons plain flour

50g of unsalted butter

300ml red wine

2 teaspoons of chopped fresh parsley

For the mustard butter

100g unsalted butter, softened

100g of wholegrain mustard

She preheated the oven to 200C while also preheating the grill. Greasing a baking tray, she seasoned the skate with salt and pepper and lightly dusted with flour on the top serving side. Heating a large frying pan, she added a knob of butter. First she coloured the skate in the pan on the presentation side, and then turned each skate wing, before transferring them to the baking tray. She left that to cook away in the oven for 10 minutes, meanwhile mixing the butter and the mustard of the mustard seed butter.

A minute or so before the fish was finished, she removed it from the oven and placed a tablespoon of the mustard seed butter on each wing, spreading evenly, then returning to the oven. Sitting the fish on warmed plates, she heated the remaining butter and juices from the tray with the red wine in a pan, bringing it to the boil. Adding the sauce to the plates, she garnished with the parsley and sent it out, removing her apron for the last time and taking up her seat once more at the table with all the others. Now she could definitely enjoy a cold glass of bubbly as the dessert required no more effort at all.

Barely a peep was made at the table, while all tucked in. She hoped that that was a good sign. The professor’s plate finished first, he congratulated Amelia on a most delectable spread indeed. All in agreement, the table raised their glasses and gave her three cheers.

“As fine as any restaurant cuisine I’ve ever had!” Brigitta enthused, with Jonathan quickly chiming in.

“You’re a dark horse aren’t you? So very unassuming and yet such a talent! We’ll have to be careful around you... Who knows what else you’ve got up that proverbial sleeve of yours...” He raised his glass and turned to look straight into her eyes, leaving her spellbound in his sincere hazel gaze.

“Thank you so much, everyone,” she murmured, slightly shy. She felt tears welling up and wasn’t about to get sentimental and cry in front of everyone, checking herself.

Suddenly Renate stood at the head of the table, chinking her glass to call everyone to attention.

“Now, if you don’t mind, Jack and I have some exciting, and, I’m sure, surprising, news for you all. It is the raison d’etre of this evening’s celebrations I suppose, although I believe always in bringing those you love to gather around a meal.

“As many of you know, Jack and I said our goodbyes to those we loved so, some may say, earlier in life than we had ever hoped. And for so long, we lived forlornly with our own losses. And yet, our dear, and dahling Amelia brought us together in this world, and what a journey it has been ever since. Now, one never expects the gift of love a second time in a lifetime when one has once been so very, very in love for so very, very long and then lost that love too soon. But find each other we did.”

With this, she turned briefly to the professor with a look of sheer gratitude, her eyes wet with feeling and a deep and pure love, demanding a pause before she found it in her to continue.

“So we decided to call on those most important to us still in this life, to announce that perhaps spontaneously, but without the need for fanfare, as old as we both are, we were married in court this morning. And we do so pray that you will all be happy for us in this bold new chapter in our lives. We still have some details to iron out, but we figured life was too short for denying love having found it again, so very unexpectedly yet so very, very gladly. So here’s to you all, and my new husband, my dahling Jack.” She leant down to kiss him, their secret finally out of the bag, while all whooped and whistled in celebration. And with that she signalled for the band to play up again, with Etta James’ ‘At Last’ putting the final touches on a most touching scene indeed.

“May I have this dance?” she turned to face the professor.

“My dear, I’m so very pleased you asked. It would be my honour.” The professor rose from the table and took the hand of his new wife as they held each other on the lawn, and lightly stepped and swayed to the band. Amelia guessed it was never too late for a second act in life, and this warmed her heart.

“Now isn’t that something? Who knew the old codger still had it in him... Hah! A trump card if ever there was... Never a dull moment around him, I always said. And so there’s nothing for it but to ask you for this dance, Amelia, if you’ll have me?” Jonathan was extending his hand to Amelia’s.

“I would love that.” Amelia lifted her hand to his, not for one minute taking her eyes off Jonathan’s as she rose to join him and Renate and Jack, Tal beaming broadly all the while and chattering with Pierre and Brigitta just as shocked but overjoyed as the next one.

And perhaps, perhaps, Amelia thought to herself, dancing to Etta James with Jonathan, there was still plenty of time for a second act in her life too. There was no denying that they were both falling in love with those first few fledgling tendrils of Spring in the air. It was as clear as day for anyone to see.

Amelia thought on her old post it note and to do list, still pinned to the door of her refrigerator. And on Ailuros waiting at home for her. But soon she returned to the sensation of Jonathan’s touch on her skin, and his eyes on hers, as if they were the only two in that very moment, suspended in a realm beyond time and space. And as for Chinese mythology, maybe the cats were to blame for that, but who was she to care or question it.

At last, at last, Georgina and Portia concluded smiling benevolently down on their dear Amelia. Their little girl was all grown up and living happily ever after in this tender little fairytale called life, dancing her heart away with all of her newfound friends until the wee hours of the morning, without a care in the world that her coach might suddenly turn into a pumpkin again.

At last, at last, Amelia thought with a smile. She’d become the master of her destiny and oh what a journey it had been. But she’d arrived. And this was what happiness felt like, at long last. She’d kindled joy and taken flight, soaring to greater heights than she’d ever felt possible of herself. And wasn’t that just so true of life, that there were no little things, but that they were instead the hinges of the universe.

And with that, Ailuros curled herself up on the sofa at Amelia’s homestead and dozed off peacefully, her task finally done. It had taken some feline persuasion, with which she was most cunning, but now she could return to an unfettered existence of sleeping her days away. The joys of a common house cat. As a cat was truly wont to do. And she grinned a Cheshire grin as she drifted off, the post it note slipping from the fridge and falling upon the kitchen floor, like Ailuros, long having served its expedient purpose. Each and every little thing, the stuff of magic, if you only gave it the time to work its magic.

The End

The Dance of Life by Edvard Munch