by Noelle Love
Considering it a favor to Tali that she had a place to live, Tali’s aunt required her to do many of the household chores, including cooking for the family. Tali learned her way around the kitchen from the two cookbooks her aunt had in the kitchen, Eliza Acton’s Modern Cookery for Private Families and The Art of French Baking by Ginette Mathiot. She discovered that there was a big difference between cooking and baking – you cook because you have to, you bake because you love to. Soon Tali’s aunt’s home filled with the decadent aromas of éclairs, soufflés, macarons, meringues, brioches, and more. The smells were so incredible that they could even overpower the stench that settled over Swansea each night, which lead to the rising popularity of both Tali and her baking.
Tali’s sweets became famous throughout the city and throughout all of Wales. Proud that her niece was the toast of the town and excited to get her out of the house now that there was more blossoming than just her culinary skills - the constant advances of men, made her nervous - Tali’s aunt bought her a ticket to Paris and signed her up to attend a school for those gifted in the art of pastry. Tali was thrilled to be heading to her City Of Light and to learn more about baking, but secretly she was most excited to meet fellow artists, to study their work, and to hone what had now become an obsession almost as potent as the city of Paris itself.
Baking classes at the Bellouet Conseil in Paris were challenging for Tali not because she didn’t understand the concepts, she knew the techniques forwards and backwards, but because she couldn’t stop her mind from seeing the world like an artist, full of color, intricate, and definitely not something that can be understood through stringent rules and narrow thinking. The star of her class, everyone, including her instructor who was particular interested in tasting the plump red lips she brought to class everyday, was shocked when Tali stopped showing up to class. A baking school dropout, Tali lied to her aunt in Wales, saying that she loved all that she was learning and how she would be eternally grateful for the opportunity. Tali didn’t feel too bad because only half of that, she thought, was really a lie. She was thrilled to be in Paris, to go to the places that her mom and dad haunt, and to paint the sights of the city she grew up idolizing.
Tali painted all day and all night, selling her work for nothing so that she could afford the tiny, barely existent studio she rented above the art gallery her work was displayed in.
One Friday night the gallery hosted a large party in which much of Paris’s young socialite crowd was invited. The owner of the gallery, who knew all about Tali’s hidden baking talent – her son was a student in the same class at the Bellouet Conseil - asked her if she could make up a few trays of desserts to be served by waiters in black pants and ties for the night of the party. Not being able to say no to the person who sold her art and gave her a place to live, Tali graciously obliged, whipping up some of her simple classics, including one of her personal favorites, a decadent chocolate tart.
That night, after Zenna and Margot tasted the chocolate tart in front of a nude painting done by the mysterious Jacques, who Tali had yet to meet but had heard so much about (he was a bit of an urban legend in Paris – everyone aware of who he was, no one sure what he did except for the fact that he did everything), they hunted Tali down, confident that she would join them in their endeavors at their bakery next door. Zenna and Margot were shocked when they were introduced to Tali, who reluctantly answered the door of her studio upstairs. Someone who made such a devilishly dark tart couldn’t be so fair and angelic. But there she was, beautiful and talented – The Two Macarons had to have her.
And have her they did because there stood Tali in the back of the bakery, daydreaming away while whipping up dozens upon dozens of the desserts that would, in a matter of hours, fly off the shelves only to be replaced by more and those replaced by more and so on and so forth forever until the day she met a man who could take her away to her flat on the Seine.
“You can leave,” Margot announced as she marched into the kitchen. In all of the time Tali had worked at the bakery, never once was she asked, let alone told, to leave early. Tali wanted to ask why, but the look on Margot’s face made Tali realize that it was best to say nothing at all. Tali took off her apron, placed it on the counter, and quietly made her way to the kitchen door. Zenna was nowhere to be found in the front so without any goodbyes to be made, Tali walked out the front door into the glowing dusk of Paris. She paused thinking that she heard several loud crashes coming from back in the kitchen. She briefly thought about turning back but realized that Margot was plenty capable to pick up after herself, so she continued out and into the emptying streets.
Tali looked up at the sky, about to begin a conversation with her parents, when she noticed immense clouds rolling in, blanketing the city in the down of a gray goose. A quick lap around the Eiffel tower, she thought, would give her the inspiration necessary to finish her latest landscape. Beneath the tower Tali saw a man in a bright yellow rain jacket holding an umbrella over his head, apparently caught in a rainstorm of his own. He was juggling a soccer ball with his feet, being careful not to move out from the safety of his not-in-use-but-could-be-useful red polka-dotted umbrella. That’s funny, she thought, it’s not raining yet, and looked at the man with the studious eye of an artist or maybe a psychologist. “You never know in Paris!” he shouted at her as she walked by, as if he heard what she was thinking. Their eyes met and she smiled. He was genuinely nice, she could tell by his toothy grin, but not the love she was looking for. She continued on her way, hoping to make it back to her place just as the rain started.
“The second most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” thought Jacques as he watched her fade away into darkness.
Tarte au Chocolat
Serves 10
Ingredients
1 ¼ cup sugar
6 tablespoons strong-brewed coffee, warm
8 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
1/8 teaspoon sea salt
4 ounces semisweet chocolate, chopped
2 ounces unsweetened chocolate, chopped
2 large brown eggs
¼ cup flour
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Dutch processed cocoa powder, for dusting (optional)
For the crust
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into tablespoon-sized squares
1 tablespoon canola oil
3 tablespoons warm water
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt
1 ¼ cups all-purpose flour
Directions
Begin by setting your oven to 400 degrees F. Once hot, add together the butter, oil, water, sugar, and salt in a medium size bowl that is safe to put in the oven. Set the bowl in the oven (you should have seen that one coming) and bake for 12 to 15 minutes or until the butter bubbles and browns at the edges.
Take the bowl out of the oven and quickly stir in the flour to form dough. Place the hot dough in a 9” tart pan that has a removable bottom. Stretch the dough a bit with a spatula and let cool. Once cool enough to touch use your hands to press the dough into the bottom and up the sides. Use a fork to prick holes in the bottom of the dough and then place in the preheated oven, baking for about 15 minutes or until it is golden in color. Allow the crust to cool completely before adding the chocolate filling.
Set your oven’s temperature to 350 degrees F. In a large saucepan, spread the sugar so that it is one even layer. Over medium heat, cook the sugar until it begins to caramelize and liquid-like around the edges. To make sure the sugar melts evenly, pull the liquid from the edges to the center of the pan. Once all of the sugar melts it should start to caramelize very quickly. Watching it closely, allow the sugar to smoke without burning. Remove the saucepan from the heat and add in the coffee.
Stir in the butter and salt, re-heating the pan over low heat if necessary, until they melt. Then stir in the chocolates and continue stirring until smooth. Add the eggs, flour, and vanilla extract one at a time until everythi
ng is well combined.
Pour the chocolate mixture into the prepared crust and bake in the preheated oven for about 20 minutes or until the chocolate filling begins to crack at the edges while maintaining its wiggly center. Allow the tart to cool before dusting with the cocoa powder (if using) and slicing and serving.
5
Zenna watched Tali walk out the front door from her small window view in the walk-in refrigerator. She needed a quiet place to think after seeing what just happened between Aubin and Margot; she only wished it wasn’t quite so cold. Hearing the pots in the kitchen come crashing to the floor, she knew Margot would be in the kitchen for a while trying to clean up more than just one mess. Zenna stepped out of the refrigerator, feeling like a cold bitch, literally. She thought about how she may have been able to prevent seeing her best friend’s heart crushed and how she unfortunately played a larger role than she would like to admit in their inevitable break-up.
The night Zenna and Margot were introduced to Tali at the gallery almost a year ago Zenna had been feeling flirtatious. She finally had enough money to buy a decent dress and the confidence she had received from that purchase as well as being a partner in a successful business had made this Parisian businesswoman’s ego, and hormones, shoot through the roof. While Margot was busy trying to track down the hand that made the tart, Zenna was pulled out of the crowd and into a small room with an abstract black and white painting on the wall, lit up by a spotlight that shone from the ceiling on the other side of the room. Aubin, who was the one that brought herself and Margot to the gallery party, began discussing the underlying meaning of what to Zenna seemed to be a pretty straightforward piece of art – a large straight line with two small circles hung at the top of the canvas; on the bottom the eye was immediately drawn to a large patterned chalice. Zenna found it amusing that Aubin was not noting the obvious sexual context, but couldn’t decide if it were on purpose just so that he could hear her say “penis” aloud.
Zenna glanced over her shoulder for her friend, but couldn’t spot her in the spinning crowd. Were the people spinning or the room, she wondered, noting that she was on at least her fifth glass of champagne. She turned her attention back to Aubin, who had gone silent, as if in deep contemplation of the canvas before him. “It’s phallic,” she whispered in his ear. “Really?” Aubin grinned back. “I don’t see it.” “Look who I found!” Margot interrupted, dragging a man by the hand into the room. “This is my good friend and talented artist, Jacques,” Margot said introducing him. “Jacques, this is my boyfriend Aubin and my best friend, Zenna. I think you two met before.” Jacques shook Aubin’s hand but quickly diverted his attention back to Zenna, whom he had been studying all night ever since she stepped foot into the gallery. Jacques leaned in for the customary kisses on the cheek, but stopped just before pressing his lips against Zenna’s porcelain skin. “J’en peux plus,” he whispered, and backed away. “Jacques wanted to show me some of his work at a gallery across town. Do you two want to come?” Margot asked. Aubin glanced at Zenna and then back to Margot, “I haven’t seen much of the art here yet. I’ll make sure Zenna gets home safely.” Margot kissed Aubin, a thank you and farewell, and left, linking arms with Jacques, who would have walked backwards if given the chance so as to study the face he had fallen in love with just one more time.
It took Zenna a few minutes to catch her breath. What had just transpired between her and Jacques was odd. She couldn’t tell if it was romantic, rude, or some mixture of the two, but she knew that whatever that was made her very horny. She knew she was in trouble. What was Margot thinking leaving her with alone with Aubin? Why would Margot leave Aubin alone with anyone? He was notoriously flirtatious and so “holy fuck” attractive that women literally stopped in their tracks to admire him, like one would study the nude body of David in Florence.
“So, Zenna,” Aubin said as he moved in dangerously close, “there is really only one more piece of art I would like to take a closer look at tonight.” “Well,” Zenna brushed her bangs out of her almond shaped teal eyes, “let’s go find it.” Aubin pressed against Zenna, placing a hand on the small of her back. “I want you,” he whispered.
Aubin’s driver took them back to his penthouse. On the elevator ride up, Aubin strangely kept his distance, looking at Zenna like a beautiful cake, one that everyone knew was about to be opened up and devoured but that needed to be admired in the minutes leading up to that first bite. Zenna knew she looked sexy, her lace dress cut strategically to show peeks of the white skin on her breasts, and she coquettishly bit her lip as he caught her eye.
The elevator doors opened directly into the foyer of Aubin’s home. Aubin turned on the lights, revealing an expansive view of the city. The fireplace flashed on in front of Zenna as Aubin took a seat on a custom-made black leather sofa. Zenna understood that he wanted her to sit down next to him, but decided it would be more fun to instigate a bit of a chase, although they both knew that in a matter of minutes they would be naked. Zenna stepped closer to the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room, looking at the buildings below. For a brief moment she thought about where Margot was and about how she had no idea that her best friend was about to fuck her boyfriend. The guilt would have ruined the sex, so Zenna quickly distracted herself, thinking about Aubin’s naked body, wondering exactly what his chest, his abs, and the goods would look like.
Zenna felt Aubin’s breath on her neck as he stepped behind her. His lips, then his tongue, made their way up and down the right side of her neck, from her shoulder to her collarbone and then behind her ear. She pressed her head back towards him, letting out a sigh. His hands slipped the straps of her dress, one at a time, off her shoulders. The dress fell, stopping just before revealing her nipples. Aubin’s lips moved down her back as he unzipped the dress, allowing it to fall around her ankles. His hands cupped her breasts. He squeezed her nipples and then moved his hands down her stomach and to her thong, the lace matching the dress perfectly. He played with the edge of the lace before moving in front of her and kissing her on the mouth. He directed her back to the sofa – the cold leather on her back made her tremble. Aubin stood up and undressed in front of her, a move only a very confident man would even dare. Aubin knelt down on the floor and spread Zenna’s legs, using his fingers and tongue to pleasure her to the point of orgasm. Then Aubin came inside her, moving his hips slowly back and forth. He kissed her hard on the lips, grabbed a handful of her hair, and rode her until he came.
Zenna, drunk and exhausted, fell asleep on the sofa that night while Aubin moved to his room to sleep in the comfort of his own bed. At first light Aubin came back to the sofa and they screwed again. As he finished he said, “I expect you won’t say a word to Margot – she’ll hate you forever.” Zenna had forgotten about Margot until he said her name. At that moment everything she had done became apparent, and Zenna felt sick. She went to put on her dress from last night, but couldn’t because the zipper was stuck. “I don’t have anything to wear to work,” she told Aubin. “Can you wear this?” he said as brought out a short-sleeved black dress with a small white stripe along the bottom of the skirt. “If that’s Margot’s she’ll know something happened.” “It’s not Margot’s,” he smiled, “just another one-time girl like you.”
Zenna had been carrying around the guilt of sleeping with Aubin for months, wanting to tell her friend but too scared at the prospect of losing her forever. Now that Aubin had dumped her, Zenna had felt even worse. She knew Aubin wasn’t serious about Margot and yet she kept adding wood to the fire. She had gone through wedding magazines and talked about kids, all knowing too well that Margot would never get the proposal she was so desperately sure of.
Zenna wiped the tears that had fallen off her face, replacing any feelings of sadness with anger – anger towards Aubin, but mainly towards herself. She walked into the kitchen, seeing Margot just finishing cleaning up the pots she had thrown to the floor, and decided then and there she would redeem herself by doing the one thing she k
new would make Margot forgive her – making Aubin, that cheating son-of-a-bitch, pay for the heart he had broken.
“Zenna,” Margot said from the other side of the kitchen, “I told Tali to leave. Will you help me with the orders for tomorrow?” Amazing, Zenna thought, she’s going to act like nothing happened. Deciding going along with Margot’s denial was kinder, not to mention safer, than bringing up anything to do with Aubin at the moment, Zenna smiled and took a stack of orders out of her friend’s hands. “Two Raspberry Charlottes for Oralie’s daughter,” she said, taking out the raspberries and pear brandy to get started.
It’s going to be a long night, Zenna thought, so she opened the brandy and took a swig. The brandy traveled down her throat, burning as it slipped and fell into her churning stomach. Margot also felt burnt, but rather than sit and lick her wounds she decided redemption in the form of success and lots of sex would be much sweeter.
Charlotte a la Framboise
Serves 8
Ingredients
1 tablespoon unsalted butter, at room temperature
4 large eggs, separated
½ cup granulated sugar
7 tablespoons cake flour
1 teaspoon almond extract
½ teaspoon pure vanilla extract
For the filling
9 cups fresh raspberries (or thawed if frozen)
¾ cup granulated sugar
1 cup water
1 package unflavored gelatin in ¼ cup cold water
¼ cup pear brandy (eau-de-vie de poire) or pear liqueur