milliways_bar | (no subject)

Dr. Hannibal Lecter meanders through the bar, physically, carrying a small glass of espresso shakerato, from which he sips on occasion,

He leans on the piano eventually, watching Yrael play.

Yrael's pale fingers are deft and light upon the keys, light as a breeze offering minute coolness amid the blazing summertime warmth. He smiles upon seeing his friend, eyes bright and glad as he plays.

"Good morning, Dr. Lecter."

"Your music is like a fresh breeze," Dr. Lecter says. "Good morning, Yrael."

"The Dog Days as translated by a cat," he replies, smiling in his accustomed, catty manner. "It is good to see you, my friend. Have there been any more alarmists causing trouble for you, of late, or have they quietened at last?"

"Not any new nonsense, but people have been tiresome," Dr. Lecter says. "Well, in this way they clearly sort themselves into panicky cowards and people whom it makes sense to remain friends with."

"Helpful, then, if annoying," Yrael smiles. "Other than people being tiresome, how have you been?"

"I went with Ganymede to Morocco for a few days, for a complete change of scenery and some new culinary inspiration," Dr. Lecter says. "I really want to use mint more. It completely underestimated in conventional cuisine."

"Just leave me to be jealous," laughs the not'cat. "I have been to Morocco all of once, and that was just long enough to take a nap and find some food. What I did see of it was intriguing, and merited further inquiry - but there was no leeway for sightseeing at the time."

"What would you use mint for? I have encountered it in tea and used to dress pork, but few other ways."

"There's that savoury couscous salad called tabouleh which contains mint, and you can use that combination of herbs for other salads as well, to start with," Hannibal says.

Yrael makes a very slight face, replying wryly, "I will admit I have never seen the draw of most salads, Doctor. I would be a poor judge as to their quality."

"I would probably have to add seafood at some stage," Dr. Lecter smiles.

"Adding meat of any sort would bring it solidly back into my realm of interest," he grins.

"You might have enjoyed the tajine I made on Saturday," Dr. Lecter muses. "With very tender lamb's meat I brought from Essaouira."

"Oh, lamb," Yrael says, a faintly wistful note entering the breezy waltz. "I am sad to have missed it."

"It was excellent," Dr. Lecter says. "Very tender, infusing the entire dish with a subtle flavour that melded wonderfully with the mint."

The Bright Shiner laughs. "If your aim is to make me hungry, my friend, you are succeeding."

Or, you know, whatever passes for hunger for him.

"Well, I could make salad with seafood for lunch," Dr. Lecter muses.

"If you would like, my violin and I will provide proper accompaniment, as you cook."

"It won't take long," Dr. Lecter says. "Ample time to listen to your music first."

"Then I will be left to loiter as you prepare the food, as I have no skill with it, myself," Yrael grins. "If that is acceptable, I will fetch my violin."

Hannibal laughs.

"Please," he says. "Oh, and are there any vegetables that you absolutely refuse to eat?"

"None that I've found yet," Yrael smiles, moving to stand up from the piano bench. "I will try anything once."

"Good," Dr. Lecter says. "I'll think of something interesting and colourful..."

"I have never doubted your capabilities," Yrael says, in good cheer, "And I will not start now. If you would excuse me for but a moment, I will return shortly."

He keeps his violin in his room, upstairs.

When he returns, Dr. Lecter is waiting by the kitchen door, already wearing his apron.

Yrael soon pads back down the stairs, his violin freshly tuned and bow rosined.

He is considering the table-to-be. If music were like good wine, what music would go with seafood? Hmmmm.

Dr. Lecter holds the door open. "I have a plan!" he declares, cheerfully.

"Brilliant!" Yrael laughs. "May I hear it, or is the element of surprise key to the plan's success?"

"You can watch, and then you will see," Dr. Lecter says, smiling a little.

"You know too well how to keep one's curiosity piqued," he says in amused approval, entering the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Dr. Lecter assembles what he needs: cutting board and plates, knives, vegetables, herbs, condiments, calamari and -- flowers?

Yes, flowers.

He sets to work.

Yrael settles on one of the high stools, one foot on the top rung, the other hanging loose, and considers what to play.

Soon a neat little melody upon the strings fills the kitchen. Neither too quick nor too ponderous in tempo, its sound is fresh and vivid to the ear. While the melody itself is bright, there's warmth in its tone, a savory thread to bind all the turns and frills together in a cohesive whole.

Dr. Lecter gets to work in time with the music -- chopping vegetables, pan-searing the calamari, arranging leaves, sprinkling herbs, adding cheese, black salt and white pepper, scattering flower petals, spraying balsamic vinegar and virgin olive oil, and finally arranging tentacles in the middle of the plate.

In the end, each plate contains a flower crown, made of frisée endives and rocket, bloodworth and shreds of white cheese and dark purple edible flowers, tiny blood-red tomatoes and orange florets of thin, curled smokes salmon adorning tentacles that seem to try and fight their way free of the pretty ring around them.

Dr. Lecter stretches, takes off his apron, and then simply waits for Yrael to finish.

The good part about composing on the spot is that the piece can evenly match the situation.

Besides, it's not good manners to delay once the food is plated. Yrael's music finishes with a flourish, a mere handful of moments after Dr. Lecter takes off his apron.

"That looks marvelous, my friend."

Dr. Lecter picks up both the plates.

"I instructed the rats to uncork a dry pinot grigio so it would be ready when we return," he says, leading the way out of the kitchen. "That was a very inspiring piece you played."

"Thank you," Yrael replies with an amused smile, settling his violin in its case for safekeeping while they dine, before following. "I had hoped it would be. Pairing wine to a meal is customary - it was interesting to attempt the same with music."

"And you succeeded admirably," Dr. Lecter says, winding his way to their table.

Yrael follows to the table set for their use, and lays the violin case out of the way under one of the chairs.

"May I ask after the flowers? I am not familiar with them." Already his curiosity is piqued. He has nommed on his share of catnip and valerian, but he has not consumed flowers before.

"It's borage," Dr. Lecter says, putting down both plates and taking a seat.

He pours wine for them both.

Yrael takes the other seat. "Then I will know it next time I see it," he replies with a smile. "Its blue is beautiful among the reds and greens."

But it will soon disappear, for he wants to know how a flower tastes to him.

It has a cucumber-like taste, quite gentle, mingling with the nana mint and the sour bite of the bloodwort, the slightly bitter endive, and the salty cheese.

The tentacles are seasoned with soy sauce, sweet and spicy at once.

Yrael gets a small addition of as many of the flavors as he can on his fork, before taking his first bite. He chews reflectively, consideringly, before swallowing.

"That is a delightful combination, my friend," he smiles. Though he sincerely doubts what he tasted is what the chef tasted.

"I am hoping to please," Dr. Lecter says, with a smile.

He eats some of the salad, takes a deep breath, and then takes a sip of the wine.