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No, thanks. I was going back to the chalet for some hot chocolate and cake and to gather myself together for Xavier’s next lesson.
*
‘Remind me of the menu again?’ I stood still in the kitchen doorway, trying to remember the starter that had sounded so good.
‘I’ve already told you once, Holly,’ Xavier seemed annoyed as he read from his notepad. ‘Savoury crème brûlée to start, cassoulet with parsnip gratin for main, and Reine de Saba to finish.’
‘That’s it. Crème brûlée is my favourite,’ I said. ‘So what’s in a savoury one?’
‘You’re about to find out. We are cooking them together today,’ Xavier said, his cheeks slightly pink. ‘This recipe is my own invention, and it isperfection.’
I was excited already.
‘Eggs, of course,’ he continued, ‘goat’s cheese, brie, leeks, pink peppercorns, and a small amount of onion.’ He kissed his thumb and forefinger together, then busied himself gathering the ingredients.
‘Sounds amazing, let’s do it,’ I said, flicking the radio on and tying my apron, ready to get to work. ‘Any word from Lord and Lady Blanchet?’
‘Yes. Genevieve messaged to say she’s arriving tomorrow lunchtime. She wasn’t sure what Luca was up to, but she said not to worry about him. Do you know where he is?’ he asked.
‘Me? Of course not. Why would I know what he’s up to?’
Xavier gave a half-shrug. ‘I thought he was taking you shopping sometime?’
‘Oh right, no, nothing yet and no idea if he even will. He was probably just saying it to be nice.’
‘Well, no doubt he’ll be here in the next few days,’ Xavier said, handing me a box of twelve brown eggs. ‘The crème brûlées are quite simple but we have to be precise and quick, otherwise they will flop.’
‘OK, where do I start?’ I asked.
‘First you need to separate the yolks,’ Xavier said, putting a large glass bowl in front of me. I carefully cracked open the eggs, extracting each yolk from its gooey counterpart and plopping all twelve into the bowl.
‘Now for all the other ingredients,’ Xavier said, handing them to me, ‘finely slice this leek, like this…’ he cut the leek into microscopic ribbons, ‘roughly chop this onion and blend together a slice of goat’s cheese and a slice of brie.’
I set about the leek with a sharp knife and took a painfully long time to chop it. How did Xavier do it with such speed and precision? I put the cheeses in a bowl and tried to paste them together, but more of it was sticking to the spatula than anywhere else.
‘Warm it in a pan,’ Xavier called, one eye on me as I tried to work it all out.
I eventually had all the different ingredient elements ready to go.
‘Good,’ Xavier said, impressed, ‘now whisk the egg yolks with half a litre of milk and some salt and pepper, then gradually fold the other ingredients in.’
‘Got it,’ I said, enjoying the gentle vibration of the whisk against the bowl.
‘That’s it,’ he said, his eyes fixed permanently on the mixture, ‘now keep whisking while I get the peppercorns.’ He went over to the larder and started rifling through the shelves, moving things around at speed. The mixture was already light as air, so I gave it another blast of the electric whisk for luck, then set it to one side, going over to see if I could help.
‘The pink peppercorns are next to the spices,’ I said to his back. Xavier turned around with a jar of gherkins in one hand and a bag of sugar in the other.
‘You’re supposed to be whisking!’ he said, rushing over to the bowl.
‘I’ve already done it,’ I said proudly.
‘You don’t stop halfway through! You have to continuously blend the mixture until it goes into the oven,’ Xavier said in alarm.
‘Oh right! Sorry!’ I said, picking up the whisk and turning it back on.
‘It’s too late now,’ he said, ‘you’ve left it too long. It will taste like a quiche.’
‘But I was only a few seconds. Are you sure?’ I said, examining the whisked mixture, which seemed perfectly fine.
