Bab 8: You've got some guts
I stepped up to the counter, taking in the spread of ingredients laid out before me. There were pristine cuts of meat, fresh vegetables glistening with dew, delicate herbs arranged in neat bundles, and an assortment of seafood resting on crushed ice.
My eyes scanned over everything until they landed on the lobsters. They were alive, their antennae twitching faintly, their shells a deep, mottled brown.
I hesitated for only a moment before reaching for one. Lobster, I decided. It wasn't just a dish it was a statement.
After all, I'd spent the last several minutes mentally dissecting everyone else's attempts at cooking this particular crustacean. If I backed down now, it would feel like admitting I couldn't do any better.
Grabbing the lobster, I set it on the cutting board, feeling its weight in my hands. It was cool to the touch, its claws banded with thick rubber.
"You've got some guts, don't you?" the woman's voice cut through the silence, sharp and cold.
I glanced up to see her watching me with a raised eyebrow, her stern expression softened by the faintest hint of amusement.
"Rhiannon," I replied, meeting her gaze with as much confidence as I could muster. "And yes, I do."
She snorted, a sound that might have been the beginning of a laugh. "Well, Rhiannon, let's see if your guts match your skill."
Her words lit a spark in me. Turning back to my station, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.
The first step was to kill the lobster swiftly and humanely. I grabbed a sharp knife and drove it through the point where the head and thorax met, the way Leora had taught me.
The creature's movements stilled almost instantly. I exhaled, steadying my hands.
Next, I brought a pot of salted water to a rolling boil, dropping the lobster in for just a few minutes long enough to cook the shellfish but keep the meat tender.
While it boiled, I scanned the ingredients, pulling out butter, garlic, fresh thyme, lemon, and a bottle of white wine.
Once the lobster was done, I plunged it into an ice bath to stop the cooking process. The shell turned a vibrant red, the kind of color that promised perfectly cooked meat underneath.
I cracked it open carefully, pulling out the delicate white flesh in intact pieces. Every motion was precise, practiced, almost rhythmic.
With the lobster prepped, I turned my attention to the sauce. In a small saucepan, I melted butter until it sizzled, then added finely minced garlic and a few sprigs of thyme.
The aroma was intoxicating, rich and herbaceous, filling the room like a promise. A splash of white wine followed, the liquid bubbling and reducing until it thickened into a glossy emulsion.
I finished it with a squeeze of lemon for brightness, whisking until the sauce shimmered.
The dish needed a balance of textures, so I decided on a bed of fresh greens and a light herb salad to accompany the lobster.
I tossed together arugula, frisée, and baby spinach, dressing them with a simple vinaigrette made from olive oil, lemon juice, and a touch of Dijon mustard.
To add a bit of crunch, I toasted slivers of almonds until they were golden brown and fragrant.
With everything prepped, it was time for plating. I carefully arranged the salad in the center of a sleek white plate, the greens forming a nest-like base.
On top, I placed the lobster meat, each piece glistening with the sauce I'd spooned over it. A sprinkle of fresh parsley and a few thin curls of lemon zest completed the presentation.
The entire process had felt like a dance, every step flowing seamlessly into the next. I'd moved with confidence, guided by years of cooking with Leora and my own instincts.
As I finished, I wiped my hands on a towel and took a step back to admire the dish. It was elegant, refined a plate that could stand proudly in any fine dining establishment.
My heart was racing, but it wasn't fear. It was excitement. Cooking always did this to me, setting my blood on fire in the best possible way. This wasn't just a test; it was a chance to show what I was made of.
Turning back to the woman, who had been watching silently from her throne, I carried the plate over and set it down in front of her with a flourish.
"Here it is," I said, my voice steady, though I could feel the adrenaline coursing through me. A sly smile tugged at my lips as I added, "For you, your majesty."
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