sharp_as_knives | Hannibal's house, Wednesday afternoon

Current Mood: preparatory
Current Location: 22 Phoenix Place

Entry tags:

Hannibal's house, Wednesday afternoon

The arrangements had all been made, the menu was set, all the ingredients and wines had been delivered, and all that was left was to make the food.

Which meant starting the day before, because some things just had to be done right.

Were you sorry yet that you'd offered to help so that you could learn party planning, Sparkle?

[OOC: For the one mentioned, but open for calls or drop-bys, why not? Just a bit of T-day prep!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"And crème fraiche; we can't forget that," Hannibal answered, amused. "So, shall we get started?"

"Yeah," Sparkle replied, grinning because cotton candy soup. "What do we want to take care of first? A lot of what you listed off seemed, I dunno, pretty straightforward. So maybe that, just to get it out of the way? I mean, unless there's something that needs to go first..."

He was trying to puzzle this thing out. Well aware, yes, that Hannibal was still the one who actually knew what he was doing, here.

"No, I think that's a very good idea," Hannibal said approvingly. "Let's start with the juices and go from there, shall we? Carrot and mandarin. You get the food, I'll get the juicer."

"Right," Sparkle said, nodding as he made his way across the kitchen to dig out the carrots. "Which recipe is the juice for?"

For the air, Sparkle. You were making air.

"For the air and concentrate," Hannibal answered the same as the narration. "They'll need to sit overnight so the solids will settle."

He brought out the juicer and set it up. "Now, we clean those," he nodded at the carrots, "and then we can start."

Sparkle took a moment to process that, even while he carried the carrots over to the sink.

"... Air?"

It was occurring to him in retrospect that maybe he should have looked a little more thoroughly into what some of these recipes entailed.

"Foam, more precisely, but I think the chef can be allowed a bit of creative license in the naming." He gave Sparkle a somewhat arch look. "You did help me choose the menu."

"Oh! That foamy orange thing," Sparkle said, setting the carrots down and giving a snap of his fingers. "I can't remember half the names of what we picked. There's kind of a lot, and most of it is, like, completely new to me."

And... air. Really.

"Only until tomorrow; then you can say that you've worked with it all," Hannibal pointed out. "What do you think of party planning so far?"

"It's... a lot to keep track of," Sparkle admitted, "but, like, it's fun? I think the payoff's going to happen tomorrow, though, right? Like, when people are actually enjoying what we put together."

It seemed like it would be a bit more satisfying. It wasn't like just running out and buying a case of beer or a baggie of weed.

No, no weed.

"It will," Hannibal agreed. "I like to think it's an accomplishment in itself, doing all of this," he added with a wave at the kitchen, "but it's best once you see it enjoyed."

But... weed!

"Yeah, and we've barely started, yet. So, maybe tomorrow, once it's more than a bunch of ingredients waiting to be turned into carrot air and cotton candy soup, there'll be more of that, too. Right now, it's this weird cross between intimidating, and, like... overwhelming isn't the right word, but there's a lot to do."

"There is," Hannibal agreed. "Now you see why the planning has become a career in its own right. Can you imagine what this would be like if we came to it last-minute?"

Running out to the store for last-minute truffles and nitrous oxide canisters wasn't generally an option. Even in Fandom.

"Uh." Sparkle blinked and nodded as he looked around the kitchen. "Yeah, little bit. We'd be sticking to simple and bland, I'm pretty sure. Unless we wanted to give something like gremlin meat a try, but even I don't think Thanksgiving dinner should necessarily end with a rousing musical number complete with, like, feathered costumes and a kickline."

Hannibal blinked at that image. "Not generally, no. More to the point, I'm fairly certain I wouldn't want to eat gremlin meat." Even he had standards. While he might try it out of curiosity, it likely wouldn't cook up well enough to actually serve to anyone.

"It'd he hard to trust," Sparkle decided. "And, I mean, the last thing anyone wants is having all those little assholes holding a grudge against you for eating a member of the family or something."

"Having heard what happened when your classmate captured one, I think that would be inadvisable," Hannibal agreed.

Congratulations, Barry! You had forewarned Hannibal against trying to eat gremlin!

Sparkle blinked and thought back over the radio broadcasts for a while. And then couldn't help but cackle as he started to clean the carrots.

"Yeah, I can come up with a few better drugs than that to take if I want to run around acting totally messed up all the time. Bonus points for only thinking I'm puking Skittles while I'm on them." A beat. "Not that I do drugs or anything."

Weed didn't count, dammit.

Neither did alcohol? You were getting a bit of a knowing look for that, Sparkle. Not a judging one, though.

"I can think of much less disgusting ways to spend a week, myself." Hannibal pulled out a knife and started cutting the fruit.

Hey, if Sparkle didn't admit to it, Hannibal, as a member of the school's faculty, didn't have to feel obligated to do anything about it! He was doing him a favour.

"Ones that don't have people avoiding you for a while afterward? I mean, I like Skittles as much as the next guy, but..."

Maybe not second-hand.

That was assuming that Hannibal, as a member of the school's faculty, felt obliged to do anything, full stop.

"Not if the next guy is me," he pointed out. "I've never had them, and I'm perfectly happy to keep it that way."

"More for me, then." See Sparkle not be too terribly heartbroken about this. "They're better in vodka, anyway."

Everything was better in vodka when you were eighteen.

"Sometimes I despair of your taste buds." Hannibal shook his head. "I really must sit you down and teach you the finer points of alcohols."

Because that was totally the responsible teacher thing to do, right?

"There are finer points than 'Skittles vodka?'" Sparkle was going to have to sample it to believe it, Hannibal. "I guess people are doing some impressive things with Jolly Rancher candies, too. Just so long as I don't resort to gummy bears like some people, I think I'm doing pretty okay."

Pam, Cheryl, Sparkle was talking about you.

Their ears were probably burning. Or knowing them, something much less appropriate.

"There are a good number of impressive vodkas that have nothing to do with candies, believe it or not."

It's okay, Hannibal. Sparkle wasn't going to put all of his energy into making you miserable.

"Yeah? Because I'm not really a martini kind of guy. But, hey, I'll try anything once."

Especially vodka!

"Glad to hear it." Hannibal wiped his hands on a towel. "How long until the carrots are ready?"

"Juuust about," Sparkle reported, turning his attention back to the carrots for a few more seconds before giving a satisfied nod and stepping aside. "There. How's that?"

He'd been thorough! Because nobody wanted dirty air, right?

Dirty air was definitely bad.

Then again, if anyone tried breathing this air...well, Hannibal was a doctor, at least.

He inspected them and nodded. "So, juice." He patted the juicer. "Would you like to do the honors, or should I? Whoever doesn't, gets to start on the paté."

Sparkle considered the juicer for a moment - it did look kind of like fun, just feeding carrots into the thing - but tilted his head at Hannibal curiously all the same.

"What needs to be done to the paté?"

It was worth asking!

"First is cooking the livers. Salt, pepper, and sautée them in olive oil."

Sparkle pondered that for a moment, and then nodded.

"I think I want to try that. Uh, would you mind, um, making sure I'm doing it right? Juicing is easy. I don't want to..."

He waved a hand a little. Sparkle was still Sparkle. Even when he was admitting that he was afraid he'd mess something up, he didn't want to actually say that he was afraid he'd mess something up.

And Hannibal was still Hannibal; if Sparkle thought he'd let him do poorly on something he was serving to others, he was sorely mistaken.

"I'll keep an eye on it with you. After all," he pointed out, "I have the easy job."

Sparkle gave a little smile at that, and nodded. Okay, cool, he wasn't going to fuck this up or anything.

"So, I salt and pepper them first, or wait until they're in the pan?"

He didn't think it mattered all that much, but seriously, with a dinner like this one, even Sparkle wasn't taking any chances.

"Season first, then heat the oil and put them in." Hannibal gave him the rest of the instructions on the first part. "And I'll be here if you have questions."

Sparkle nodded and then set to work, diligently following Hannibal's instructions. If his tongue was sticking out a little in concentration, he would really thank Hannibal to not point that out.

He had to get this right, dammit. It was a learning experience.

It was good to see Sparkle taking it seriously; Hannibal wasn't going to tease about the way he looked doing so.

Instead, he was just going to get started juicing things, so it would have long enough to sit.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hannibal's house, Wednesday afternoon

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject