2019-11-02 - Add to Taste

It's a warm Autumn afternoon, quite pleasant if one can avoid being rained upon, random scatterings of drizzle keeping things damp outside. A call was made; something had been left at the Patisserie, or was needed now and not thought of earlier, and as his shift was finishing anyway, Corey volunteered to transport it to Vyv's home.

Not that Bayside is far from Downtown, the student chef making the journey in maybe five briskly walked minutes, before buzzing at the front door to the apartment block, on what is hopefully the right button for Vyv's apartment.

Usually, this would be Rebecca's job. Usually a lot of things that don't involve actual food are Rebecca's job. But sometimes this means she's somewhere in Seattle dealing with bureaucratic nonsense and picking a thing or two up from the tailor. For example. Reasonable details of this nature have very little to do with how annoyed Vyv might be about the idea of having to go back himself, even now that he's back to standard levels of likeliness to stab someone. He is busy!

Specifically, in this case, he's busy working on a new recipe, so there's actually a flimsy excuse for not wanting to leave it be to go find the jar of yuzu kosho that's inconsiderately sitting in the patisserie's pantry instead of his own right now. The buzz is answered with a recognizably-accented and -irritated, "Yes?"

Yes, yes, the ever-efficient Rebecca. And yet surely this is what low-rung members of the kitchen are for - all the chores and scutwork and errands that the rest of the chefs are far too busy to deal with. And with David not on shift until the afternoon, that means Corey.

"Afternoon, Chef," he responds to the irritable excuse for a greeting with his usual laid-back tone. "I've got the paste here for you. Want me to bring it up?"

"Ah." It's slightly lighter; a quick little sound, but Corey's worked for Vyv long enough now to likely recognize it as pleased. "Yes, good, I'll have them let you in. Door's unlocked." And the connection is gone.

Security does in fact allow the young man in, and the elevator allows him up to the second floor from the top. 808 occupies a corner, and turning its knob confirms it is, indeed, unlocked. Inside, the apartment is tidy and just as adamantly put together as Vyv himself, though Vyv himself is perhaps a touch less so than usual. The suit he left in today remains in evidence, bar the jacket which is draped nearly over the back of one of the dining room chairs. Aside from that, he's rolled shirt-sleeves, an apron, the kitchen, and the midst of vigorously whisking something in a metal bowl. Speakers built into the flat itself are playing music, currently some decidedly upbeat electro-swing, and between that and the whisking, he doesn't immediately seem to notice when the door opens.

It's the little things; a member of the kitchen must be good at discerning the head chef's mood, or they may not be a member of the kitchen terribly long. Corey's slightly pained expression eases when he hears that change in tone, and he opens his mouth to reply just as the connection is closed.

Through the foyer and to the elevator, Corey checks his hair and stuff in the elevator mirror - if there is one - and then steps out and heads for the corner apartment. He's dressed casually - since work is finished - which is probably a look Vyv hasn't seen on him often since he changes into his whites as soon as he arrives each morning. Black jeans, black and white converse sneakers, and a t-shirt with 'Do you even SIFT, bro?" on it, with a few graphics. Over this, a black and white plaid shirt, left open.

Closing the door behind himself, Corey waits for the whisking to slow - maybe it's done, maybe he's checking consistency - before clearing his throat. "Chef," he murmurs, approaching with the jar of yuzu kosho in one hand, held up as if to ward off evil.

There is in fact a mirror in the elevator, so Corey can be confident in his self-presentation! Which is nice, since he still gets a thoroughly appraising look when Vyv glances over at him, of a sort that could make an insecure person suddenly terrified there might be spinach in their teeth. Even if they haven't eaten any. If it's partially covering for some startlement at not catching Corey's presence before that -- and it might be -- it seems to be doing it fairly well.

There isn't a general feeling of approval, exactly, but there isn't one of *dis*approval either, and as the chef's eyes rest on the t-shirt for an extra beat, one corner of his lips quirk up just perceptibly. "The important thing is to never skip egg day," he remarks, otherwise deadpan, and sets down the bowl, brushing his hands off unnecessarily on the apron as he moves over to take the jar from Corey. He tilts and turns it, giving it a quick examination as though making sure it wasn't unexpectedly a jar of olives, and only then gets around to adding, "Thank you. Wouldn't have made a particularly effective flavour test without one of the intended flavours."

The appraisal is met with a level, patient expression; Corey is confident in the lack of spinach between his teeth, or indeed any other minor but annoying appearance-based faux pas. Nor does he scare easily, another good attribute for the culinary-minded.

Then, holy shit. Vyv made a joke. It's not a completely unknown occurrence, but with the levels of tension in the kitchen having been high of late, it's a surprise. Corey catches himself before he laughs too loudly, but his amusement is clear.

"No problem," he responds to the thanks, his smile dawning briefly. "Anything else I can help with?" he then asks; partly because he's just that kind of helpful person and maybe having someone to chop or whisk or beat things might be of use while Vyv is mixing flavours, but also because.. honestly, he's hella curious about what the Maītre Pātissier is making. Though he's trying to tamp that down a bit.

In the kitchen, Vyv's sense of humour does mostly sneak out in rather subtler (and generally more sarcastic) forms -- and the couple weeks where words weren't nearly sharp enough to fulfil the impulses he was having to fight harder than usual were, indeed, fairly dead zones for funny, at least while he was there. No one got stabbed or had their burnt caramel dumped on them, though the latter was a close-run thing and likely both he and David ought to be thanking whoever got the pan out of his reach that time. And he hasn't had to stalk out to the alley or into his office more than once in a day in at least a week, now!

Right now, despite the irritation in the initial 'greeting', he seems practically cheerful. His version, granted, but all the same. The impression's only bolstered by the slight headtilt at the offer, considering Corey for a beat before he nods. "Mm. As long as no one's going to report you missing in the near future. Police raids are inconvenient and they never wipe their feet." Another quick glance, and he leans to a low drawer, opening it to draw out a folded apron, plain white like his current one, and drop it on the counter nearest Corey. "Those," he indicates some limes elsewhere on the counter, "need juicing and zesting -- they'll be a lime mousse, which," just a flicker of deliberation, "I suspect I could likely leave to you in full." He makes a vague little wave in the direction of the fridge which is most likely permission for the younger man to go in and out of it as he needs.

Not all of the things Corey will need are already out, and the layout is, of course, not quite the same as the shop kitchen. But from what's visible, it probably won't require too much hunting to figure out where Vyv would keep a thing.

"No cops will be arriving on my account," Corey assures with a lazy smile. "Already texted my sister to say I'd be back a bit later." Then his eyes widen just slightly at this opportunity to work directly with Vyv on something - albeit, one stage of a whole confection, but the point remains.

He swallows hard and nods, moving to the fridge to hunt out the necessary whipping cream and then finding sugar somewhere, donning the apron and beginning to measure out the non-lime things. "With vanilla or just the lime?" he asks - he'd usually use both, but he's got no idea what Vyv's overall plan is, so. Checking is good.

"Just lime, on this one," Vyv says, pausing a moment; his fingertips tap absently against the counter a couple times as he watches the beginning of the process. It does, perhaps, occur to him that -- given there aren't any actual recipes in evidence at present -- this might be a situation where he ought to be putting to use that whole 'theory of mind' thing he sorted out as a toddler, really.

"Entremets. Chocolate genoise, lime mousse, pineapple gelatin, chopped hazelnuts, and yuzu kosho custard. Dark chocolate glaze, sea salt, and lime zest I suspect, but we'll see whether it works the way I imagine." As he speaks, he moves; quick and fluid and unsurprisingly well-practiced movements that result in more ingredients and a tool or two appearing in Corey's general vicinity. Gelatin sheets, a particular little pan and less little bowl and the like. "...and good. I only just had the rugs cleaned," he adds, returning to his own ingredients.

Measuring and juicing and zesting, Corey gets all of his ingredients sorted out before setting the little pan on to heat, waiting for it to reach the low temperature he needs then adding amounts of sugar and lime juice, stirring until the sugar is dissolved.

Then while that cools off the hob, he adds the gelatine sheets to a little more of the juice, leaving them for a couple minutes while he goes hunting for ice to fill the large bowl with. "It sounds complex," he acknowledges, though that's a compliment rather than a criticism. "How do you come up with the combinations you want to try?"

Vyv smiles faintly at the note that it sounds complex. "It's one of the things I like about entremets," he says, "Disparate tastes and textures coalescing into one more multifaceted flavour and experience. Like an edible miniature orchestra." A pan is set on the counter, already prepared for the batter. "Albeit somewhat less likely to scream and beg for mercy when you go to cut the first bite. I assume."

There's a thoughtful pause as he continues the work, and then, "The details vary. I taste something interesting and wonder what it might go well with, or something boring and consider what might liven it up, or someone mentions a particular combination..." A small shrug. The normal ways, right? "I think about the qualities of the flavours I'm beginning with, and what other things I know they work well with, and which work well with those. It's a good initial framework of options. Sometimes it's simply a matter of taking a slightly different branch in the same family. Others..."

Another fingertap against the counter, and then he's sliding the trays into the oven. Straightening again, he taps at the timer. "For this one it was the yuzu kosho that began it. Have you had it?"

The student chef continues to gradually assemble ingredients into a mousse to be chilled in the bowl of ice, nodding to Vyv's explanation. There's a hint of smile at the comment about screaming orchestras and he allows, "I do prefer my desserts with less wailing and gnashing of teeth."

Soaking up the explanation, listening keenly while they both work, he nods again to the mention of the yuzu kosho. "Yeah, it's been a topic in class, though only with savoury dishes so far," he acknowledges, having not yet thought it could have dessert potential. But then again, that's why Vyv is the master and he the lowly student.

"Yes, ideally any tooth-gnashing is solely on the other side of things," Vyv says, "and even then, only if one was working with pralines, perhaps."

There's not the slightest difference in essential tone between that and the reply to the rest, which comes after an acknowledging nod. "It's a striking taste. But it broadly breaks down to citrusy, capsaicin-spicy, and salty, of course. So I would take something like that, and run through things I know work with each of them, and consider in particular any overlap. Chocolate, of course, can work quite well with all three, and it's--" he pauses a beat, lips pursing, "Well. Chocolate is popular, as well as versatile, which makes it a particularly good base for things people may not be very familiar with." Ingredients are coming out for the custard itself, now that the paste has arrived, though he takes a moment out to grab a jar of hazelnuts and wordlessly set them on Corey's given section of counterspace.

"In any case. That ties them together in a less overtly savoury way, and from there it's a consideration of what will coax it further toward a proper dessert without losing the interesting qualities it began with. Emphasising the citrus side of the equation ought to do it. We want it to remain piquant, but read properly as a sweet." Another half-smile, directed at the eggs he's cracking. "Just not too sweet. I run a patisserie, not a Hallmark shop." Just the thought of those existing wrinkles his nose a bit. "I know you've experimented. How have you gone about thinking what might be worth a try?"

Slowly whipping the cream and adding the other bits to it, Corey then sets the bowl of lime mousse into the basin full of ice so it can begin to chill, before adding a little more lime zest. "That does make sense," he confirms to Vyv's process, taking his used bowls and whisks and such to the sink to wash them up, too much in the habit of cleaning as he goes to even think about doing otherwise.Then, it's back to the counter, to begin chopping hazelnuts, a quiet, "How fine?" asked as he selects the right knife for the job, before actually putting blade to seed.

"I'm working on some thoughts, pairings mostly. Considering how best to use them. Medjool dates and Fourme d'Ambert cheese, maybe in something like a tarte tatin, with the dates making the tart topping but with a thin layer of the cheese below. Or baked into the pastry."

The tidying as he goes is likely a good choice; Vyv does the same, and even the eggshells don't stick around long once the separation's complete. "Medium. We want to retain the sensation of a crunchy texture, but to, mm, tessellate reasonably well. Unless you meant quality, of course, in which case, extremely."

The mentioned pairing doesn't get an immediate verbal response, though from what's visible of his expression, he's giving it a bit of thought. "It's promising," he says, with a slight nod. "Dates caramelize nicely. I'd likely lean more toward the layer than in the pastry itself for the cheese... lightly stuffing the dates might be interesting as well. And something about that combination says 'honey' to me." It may well be the first time they've discussed a dish and Vyv's input's been a suggestion to consider, not a decree to be fulfilled.

"Have you tried the goat cheese galette?" he asks, glancing over to Corey briefly. It's been on the menu more as autumn comes in, one of the more rustic-looking offerings, with the pastry hand-folded around the outer edges, surrounding rather more neatly arranged pears and pecans over the goat cheese, and touched with rosemary. "Drizzle of honey's quite nice on that."

Beginning to shop the hazelnuts up into 'medium' coarseness pieces, Corey makes a little 'hmmmn' noise as the Maītre Pātissier offers that input, his gaze on what he's doing lest he cut something unintentionally, but his attention split between that and Vyv.

"Stuffing them, I hadn't thought of," he admits openly, seeming quite taken with that idea, nodding to the following question about the galette. "Yeah, I have. I've a bit of a weakness for goat cheese," he affirms with a slight sidelong smile. "I'll try it with honey next time."

Vyv gives a slight smile back -- which actually rates fairly high on the scale of Vyv-expressions, so there's that -- and the conversation flows on to some of the inspiration for that particular galette, a few questions about what he's focusing on in class, and various other mainly-culinary topics until all's as complete as it can be for the time being and everything that needs chilling left to do so. An everything that includes them! Alas, it means no real taste-testing before Corey heads home.

When he arrives at work the next day, however, there's a small tupperware in the 'lunch' fridge, and at the first appropriate break time, he gets summoned into the back office for, it turns out, The Official First Tasting. This ends up, of course, couched in a manner that could make a guy worry he was in trouble right about up until the fork shows up, but the actual entremets makes up for it. The combination does turn out to work the way Vyv hoped! And neither mousse nor nuts appear to need correction. The chef muses briefly on a couple potential tweaks he might try as well.... but really, there's nothing to call it but a great success. Well done them! Now get back to work.