Page 134 of A Winter By the Sea
Sarah sat in the quiet workroom with a cup of tea, looking through cookery books and idly sketching out some new menu ideas to run by Mamma and Mrs. Besley.
Antoine Bernardi found her there and announced, “Yesterday, I cooked for the poor house. Tonight, I should like to cook for you. Remember, I promised to do so when we visited the market?”
“I remember.”
“What shall it be?Perche à la hollandaise, as was served at the Royal Pavilion? Or perhaps the dish served to Tsar Alexander when he came to Paris: oysters,consommé a l’allemande, and roast of veal served withartichauts à lalyonnaise?”
“That all sounds grand,” Sarah replied. “But if I’m honest, I would rather taste one of your mother’s dishes you mentioned to me. Something with—how did you describe it?—simple, fresh, ingredients of the best quality? Something with garlic?”
His hazel eyes gleamed. “That would be my pleasure.”
They did not serve a meal to their guests on Sunday nights, so Sarah did not have to worry about Antoine Bernardi getting in Mrs. Besley’s way—or vice versa. She left him and went upstairs. He could have free rein to prepare one of his mother’s favorite recipes. Hopefully it would not involve frog legs. And hopefully the smell of garlic would not make its way upstairs.
It did.
Later that evening, following the enticing, savory smells, Sarah went belowstairs. Reaching the workroom, she paused at the threshold and murmured, “What in the world ... ?”
When Mr. Bernardi had offered to cook a grand meal for her, she had thought he’d been exaggerating. She’d chosen one of his mother’s “simple” dishes, imagining a single pot simmering on the stove, and him offering her a small dish of her own before whisking the remainder off to Woolbrook or Fortfield Terrace.
Instead, the scene within stunned her. She looked around the room, taking it all in. The scrubbed worktable was covered in white linen with a chair pulled up to one end. A branch ofcandles illuminated the scene, adorned with a spray of silk flowers. China, silver, and glasses were arranged with the elegance of a lord’s dining room. Had he done all this or had Mr. During helped?
“Good heavens,” she breathed.
The chef stood at the workroom stove, stirring something in a sauce pot. He glanced up. “Ah, Miss Summers. You are just in time.”
Mr. During appeared from the larder and laid a swan made of butter on the table, next to a rustic loaf of bread. He glanced from Mr. Bernardi to Sarah with a boyish grin and raised both hands. “Now I am leaving, I promise.” He scurried away, looking pleased. It was good to see him smile.
Sarah stepped out of the way to let him pass.
Mr. Bernardi beckoned her over. “Come, taste this. Mamma’s famous sauce. I was forced to substitute dried herbs for fresh, but still, the smell is of home.”
She walked closer. He lifted the wooden spoon, cupped his other hand beneath it, and held it toward her.
Tentatively, she leaned forward and put her lips to the spoon, taking a small taste. She felt self-conscious. The simple act seemed strangely sensual.
Flavor burst inside her mouth. Rich tomatoes, savory herbs—sweet basil, thyme, marjoram, and the promised garlic—and other ingredients she could not name. She closed her eyes to savor.
When she opened her eyes again, he tasted from the same spoon. Seeing his lips where hers had been filled her with strange warmth and a tingle of unease.
“Oh my.”
Satisfaction lit his face. He then turned and pulled out the single chair placed at the table. “Please, be seated. This needs a few minutes yet.”
She did so, suddenly wishing she had taken the time to change her frock or do something with her hair.
He laid a small saucer of oil before her and sprinkled it with salt and pepper. “Olive oil, for dipping the bread. Or there is Selwyn’s butter swan, if you prefer.”
“Are you not joining me?”
“Tonight I serve you, as you so often serve others.”
Sarah did her best to hide her self-consciousness behind a bite of warm bread dipped in salty olive oil.Delightful.
He said, “I had to make alterations to the menu, of course, due to available ingredients, and the size of the party.” He winked at her, then brought her a bowl of soup. “Semolina soupe à la Palermo.”
Sarah tasted a spoonful of small noodles in a rich broth. Then another. Simple yet delicious.
The soup was followed by a fish dish.
