Vanilla The Rabbit Quotes

Now into the small ceramic pan I grate the block of couverture. Almost at once the scent rises, the dark and loamy scent of bitter chocolate from the block. At this concentration it is slow to melt; the chocolate is very low in fat, and I will have to add butter and cream to the mixture to bring it to truffle consistency. But now it smells of history; of the mountains and forests of South America' of felled wood and spilled sap and campfire smoke. It smells of incense and patchouli; of the black gold of the Maya and the red gold of the Aztec; of stone and dust and of a young girl with flowers in her hair and a cup of pulque in her hand. It is intoxicating; as it melts, the chocolate becomes glossy; steam rises from the copper pan, and the scent grows richer, blossoming into cinnamon and allspice and nutmeg; dark undertones of anise and espresso; brighter notes of vanilla and ginger. Now it is almost melted through. A gentle vapor rises from the pan. Now we have the true Theobroma, the elixir of the gods in volatile form, and in the steam I can almost see- A young girl dancing with the moon. A rabbit follows at her heels. Behind her stands a woman with her head in shadow, so that for a moment she seems to look three ways- But now the steam is getting too thick. The chocolate must be no warmer than forty-six degrees. Too hot, and the chocolate will scorch and streak. Too cool, and it will bloom white and dull. I know by the scent and the level of steam that we are close to the danger point. Take the copper off the heat and stand the ceramic in cold water until the temperature has dropped. Cooling, it acquires a floral scent; of violet and lavender papier poudré. It smells of my grandmother, if I'd had one, and of wedding dresses kept carefully boxed in the attic, and of bouquets under glass.

We make the delicate liqueur chocolates, the rose-petal clusters, the gold-wrapped coins, the violet creams, the chocolate cherries and almond rolls, in batches of fifty at a time, laying them out onto greased tins to cool. Hollow eggs and animal figures are carefully split open and filled with these. Nests of spun caramel with hard-shelled sugar eggs are each topped with a triumphantly plump chocolate hen; pie-bald rabbits heavy with gilded almonds stand in rows, ready to be wrapped and boxed; marzipan creatures march across the shelves. The smells of vanilla essence and cognac and caramelized apple and bitter chocolate fill the house. And now there is Armande's party to prepare for, too. I have a list of what she wants on order from Agen- foie gras, champagne, truffles and fresh chanterelles from Bordeaux, plateaux de fruits de mer from the traitor in Agen. I will bring the cakes and chocolates myself.

I learned to baby the rabbit in sour cream, tenderer than chicken and less forgiving of distraction, as well as the banosh the way the Italians did polenta. You had to mix in the cornmeal little by little while the dairy simmered - Oksana boiled the cornmeal in milk and sour cream, never water or stock - as it clumped otherwise, which I learned the hard way. I learned to curdle and heat milk until it became a bladder of farmer cheese dripping out its whey through a cheesecloth tied over the knob of a cabinet door; how to use the whey to make a more protein-rich bread; how to sear pucks of farmer cheese spiked with raisins and vanilla until you had breakfast. I learned patience for the pumpkin preserves - stir gently to avoid turning the cubes into puree, let cool for the runoff to thicken, repeat for two days. How to pleat dumplings and fry cauliflower florets so that half the batter did not remain stuck to the pan. To marinate the peppers Oksana made for my grandfather on their first day together. To pickle watermelon, brine tomatoes, and even make potato latkes the way my grandmother made them.

Yeah, okay, sorry Tory – we did kinda hook up in your bed. But it was after you went off to find the Damned Forest and we didn’t exactly realise we had an audience-” Caleb said, trying to own it. “No, I assume not because you likely wouldn’t have wanted an audience to realise your choice of sex toys included unlicenced Dragon dildos with my face on them,” Darius drawled, and Geraldine shrieked a laugh before clapping her hands over her mouth so she could hear Caleb’s reply. “Why would you use a sex toy with Darius’s face stamped on it?” Orion asked with a shudder. “His face was not stamped on the sex toy,” Caleb growled just as Seth said, “We only used the Dragon lube and butt plug anyway!” I fell into a fit of hysterics while Caleb shot after Seth and slapped a hand over his mouth to stop him from talking. “You used a butt plug with Darius’s face on it?” I asked, choking on my own laughter. “No,” Caleb snapped while Seth shrugged like that wouldn’t even have been that weird. “Why did you hang around and watch them going at it with off-brand sex toys anyway?” Orion asked Darius incredulously. “I got stuck there,” Darius said with a scowl. “I had to call for help so I could escape while enduring the sounds of the two of them going at it like a pair of fucking rabbits.” “Who came to help you?” Seth asked, peeling Caleb’s fingers from his mouth. “Our parents,” Tory supplied, breaking down into her own fit of laughter and shock mixed with my amusement as Caleb’s face went pale with horror. “You’re lying,” he accused, pointing at Darius. “Oh no – that moment is branded into my fucking mind for all of time, I assure you. What was it Seth said? Oh yeah – ‘how vanilla are you feeling, Altair?’” Caleb looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole while we all fell apart in hysterics.