The Vampire & Her Witch

Discussions of wedding plans subsided when Georg returned to the room, this time followed by several servants carrying not only silver platters laden with food but a collection of wine bottles with labels written in the Eldritch tongue.

”I know you wanted something hearty,” Georg explained as a covered dish was placed in front of each diner. ”So I thought I’d make something similar to a dish they eat in the mountain villages like Orava,” he said, mentioning the westernmost village in the Vale of Mists that had once marked the edge of lands claimed by the Vale. Beyond the village walls lay the road to the High Pass where the trees thinned to nothing and the ground was cold and barren.

”Hunting sustains Orava more than farming, and in Orava this would be made with elk or deer,” Georg said. ”But the beef from Dunn is so rich, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to give it a special treatment,” he said, smiling widely as he reached out to raise the cloche on Ashlynn’s dish.

There, she found a giant rib bone that stretched all the way across the plate. One side of the bone held a strip of soft, tender meat that glistened in the lamp light. The meat had been crusted with cracked pepper and fresh herbs before slicing, and the outer edge of the plate held a pool of glossy, light brown sauce that carried a sharp, peppery aroma.

The inside curve of the bone cradled a gratin of barley, wild mushrooms, and aged white cheese, melted throughout.

”The beef ribs were braised in red wine and bone broth with herbs, carrots, and onions,” Georg explained. ”In Orava, they’d eat ribs like this by picking up the bone with their hands,” he explained for the benefit of Ashlynn’s family.

”But prepared like this, it’s far too delicate,” he said before pulling the top off a tray in the center of the table to reveal even more bones, though these had been cut in half lengthwise before roasting in the kitchen’s giant ovens.

”The marrow can be enjoyed on toast, or directly with a spoon if you prefer,” Georg continued, gesturing at a basket filled with small pieces of freshly toasted bread. ”It’s very rich if you aren’t accustomed to eating marrow,” he said, before pointing to a small bowl that had been placed next to each diner.

”The salad of chilled winter greens was dressed with preserved lemons to help cut through the richness of everything else,” Georg explained. ”There are also candied walnuts, dried cherries, and crumbles of goat cheese in the salad,” he said with a wink directed at Jocelynn. ”Since I heard Lady Jocelynn favored them.”

”Georg,” Jocelynn said, blinking several times as she found her vision growing misty. Did he know? He must know. Ashlynn must have told him about their picnic breakfasts on the cliffs overlooking Blackwell Bay. And now he’d brought that memory to her, complete with dried cherries, as an artfully prepared salad.

They were also the same things she’d placed on the altar for Ashlynn during the memorial when she still believed her sister was dead. And yet, now they’d get to enjoy them together again, and with her mother too. Something she’d thought would have been impossible just a few weeks ago.

In just one dish, he’d brought her to the edge of tears, but they were very, very happy tears.

”I’m happy if it makes you happy,” Georg said, twitching his ears as he gave a low bow.

”Thank you, Georg,” Ashlynn said, reaching out and giving his furry forearm an affectionate squeeze. ”Truly. But why so much wine?” Ashlynn asked, eyeing the collection of bottles suspiciously.

”Just in case,” he said with a deep, rolling chuckle. ”When we gather for a good meal, my family may talk for hours. Take your time; I’ll only bring dessert when you ring for it, and if you need a tray of nibbles before dessert, I have one of those ready too,” he said, nodding at Nyrielle, who smiled at how well he’d executed her instructions.

Her darling needed to relax, and she wasn’t above facilitating a little overindulgence if that’s what it took for Ashlynn to truly enjoy this evening.

Ashlynn would have protested, but another grumble from her stomach announced to everyone present that it had been stimulated by the first two courses, but it demanded something more substantial... And it was clearly done waiting for her to get to the succulent beef sitting before her.

”Thank you, Georg,” Nyrielle said with a light, musical laugh. ”We’ll let you know when we’re ready for more. Perhaps it will be sooner than you think,” she said, giving Ashlynn a teasing poke to the ribs.

The meal itself was everything that any of the diners could have asked for, and more. After savoring a few bites of each item, Nyrielle seemed content to cut small portions of beef that she piled neatly on her plate until the bone was completely bare, at which point she traded her plate for Ashlynn’s and started the process over again on the two-thirds of a beef rib that Ashlynn hadn’t gotten to yet.

Micheline found herself moving constantly between components of the dish, taking a bit of beef to savor the tender, juicy, peppery meat that all but melted in her mouth, then following it with the earthy, woody, barley gratin before making her way to the crisp winter salad...

But even as she ate, her mind kept copious notes on how everything had been not only prepared, but presented. In Gaal, the plate of ribs would have been brought to the table whole, served in a way that displayed to everyone how impressive the beast must have been in life. Only after the nobleman who’d hunted the main dish had stood to be recognized and praised for his skill would it be carved and passed among the aristocrats at the High Table.

If the beast had been hunted by the king or a member of the royal family, nothing would be carved until at least three or four prominent lords had stood to offer praise.

Here, all of the plating had already been done, and while the portions looked immense, Micheline quickly realized that they’d been sized relative to each other with flavors that complemented each other when paired together. And not just flavors, but textures as well.

The beef was so tender that she barely had to chew on a bite before swallowing, but the gratin had a more toothsome quality, especially with the large bits of woodland mushroom. It was the walnuts in the salad, and the crisp winter greens, however, that gave her a bit of real contrast, just as the bright, lemony dressing contrasted with the rich, creamy pepper sauce.

”You should try the marrow,” Jocelynn said when she noticed that Micheline hadn’t tried any yet. ”It’s like butter made of beef,” she said as she delicately spooned more of the marrow onto a piece of toast.

It seemed strange and a little savage to eat the marrow out of bones. Beasts might crack bones with their powerful jaws in order to feast on the marrow within, but it was hardly the most accessible thing to ordinary people. At most, Micheline had heard that some people would crack heavy bones with a mallet before using them to make stocks and soups.

Still, no part of the meal had been disappointing, and when she followed along the way Jocelynn showed her, spooning a bit of the pale, jelly-like marrow onto a piece of toast, she found it to be exactly as Jocelynn had described... Like butter, but better.

”Mmmm...” Micheline said, savoring the crispness of the bread paired with soft, creamy marrow. It was decadent and savory and...

”This is how kings should dine,” Micheline said, staring at the food in wonder.

”I don’t disagree,” Nyrielle said, leaning forward in her chair and fixing her attention on the young lady. ”But what makes you say so?”