“Did you hear—?” Zephyr whispered in Minerva’s ear.
“Every word,” Minerva confirmed. “And I think I might know how to help them.”
A BRIE-UTIFUL MESS
The group had reassembled in the test kitchen toward the front of the facility. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, filtering through lacework curtains and casting frilly shadows on the countertops. Margot passed out aprons, and everyone was excited to hear more about the hands-on activity.
Minerva found herself charmed by both women, and by the clear love and partnership between them. They orbited around each other with the ease of long practice, finishing each other’s sentences, sharing private smiles. Their affection was evident in almost every action. At one time, it would have made her wistful and more than a tad jealous to observe this kind of loving ease in a couple. But today, she felt differently.They’re rather like me and Zephyr, she thought, glancing over at Zephyr. As if he’d caught her thoughts, he turned to wink at her.
All that love was clearly good for the cheese as well. The Brie from La Maison du Lait was the best she’d ever tasted. She couldn’t wait to place an order and stock some in The Squeaky Wheel.
“Today, I will be teaching you how to create the perfect Yule breakfast centerpiece with our Brie. I hope you are all ready to get your hands dirty in the most delicious way!” Claire called the group to attention. “In our family, we believe the Yule Brie should be a reflection of what you hope to bring into your life. It can be sweet or savory, simple or elaborate. That’s up to you. Either way, it’s a blessing you create with your own hands.”
“You’re teaching us how to make it?” Jasper asked, looking thrilled.
“But of course! The best way to understand Brie is to work with it. Of course…” Claire glanced back at Margot fondly. “Our cheese needs no embellishment. It is perfect as is. But everyone likes to dress up for a special occasion, so that’s what my workshop will focus on today. I want to show you how to make something lovely and meaningful for your table. Welcome to my part of our realm.” Claire waved a hand at the counter height workstations which had been prepped with wheels of perfectly ripened Brie, each one soft and creamy and ready to be transformed.
“For sweet preparations,” she explained, “we have your choice of honey, fig preserves, fresh apples and pears, dried cranberries, pomegranate arils, pistachios, walnuts, and dates. And for more savory creations, we have mushrooms, onions, caramelized shallots, fresh herbs, garlic, prosciutto, smoked salmon, roasted red peppers, olives, and pickled vegetables.”
Beside her, another table held sheets of puff pastry and premade pastry shells. Extra dough was rolled out onto chilled marble slabs. There were assorted shaped cutters in the baskets at the center.
“You can cut leaves and other shapes for decoration and I can show you how to braid the edges,” Claire said. She pointed to a few examples of her elaborately trimmed and braided handiwork on the table. “This one has a raspberry filling and I used hot honey in the glaze,” she explained, holding up a round that appeared to be covered in dragon scales. “Whereas this one has pickled vegetables and ham incorporated into the design and filling.” The second round was decorated like a forest, with tiny pastry leaves sprouting from branches made of pickled asparagus.
“You will work in pairs,” Claire continued. “Each pair should choose one wheel of Brie to create their Yule breakfast presentation. Be creative! Be bold! There is no wrong design. Think only of the blessings you wish to bring into the new year.”
“All right, everyone! Find a partner!” Margot called out cheerfully and clapped her hands.
The group paired off. Minerva turned to Zephyr with a smile. Jasper’s eyes found Wren’s, and she nodded, moving to his side. Other passengers coupled up with friends or family members.
Bayard and Exandra, however, stood on opposite sides of the room, both studiously avoiding looking at each other.
Bayard examined the ingredient table with intense focus, as there would be a quiz later to test their knowledge of local varieties of honey. Exandra studied the ceiling beams as if she were an inspector sent to verify the building’s structural integrity.
“And... that’s everyone!” Claire said. “Oh, wait. There’s one wheel left. Who didn’t—?” She looked around. “Ah! MonsieurFontaine and Agent Thorne. You two will share the last wheel, yes?”
Bayard’s head snapped up. Exandra’s gaze dropped from the ceiling to find him.
They moved slowly toward the last remaining wheel like condemned prisoners approaching the gallows.
“I suppose we’ll have to be partners, then,” Bayard said stiffly.
“Apparently.”
They stood on opposite sides of the wheel, a good three feet between them.
“So.” Bayard tapped a wooden spoon against the marble slab. “Sweet or savory?”
Exandra stared at all the scrumptious ingredients in front of her like they were alien specimens.
“I don’t know. I’m not of much use in the kitchen. It’s not my thing. I eat the food. I don’t generally prepare it. What do you want to do?”
“I asked you first.”
“I don’t have a preference,” Exandra said. “You choose.”
“I’m fine with anything. What appeals to you?” Bayard sniffed at a bowl of chopped tarragon and wrinkled his nose. “Maybe not the tarragon, though.”
“Bayard! Just pick something.”
