LIAB 2: In the Soup, 6/16

[medora_macd]

PART SIX

Smith and Wollensky deliver some victuals, which are spiced up by some conversation about food, fashion, and summer camp.

Author: Medora MacD (medoramacd@yahoo.com)

Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada

Pairing: Mirandy

Rating: For language, R now and PG eventually. Also M, as in Mmm, for rampant “foodiness.” Which is to food as “truthiness” is to truth. Which is to say, I cook and I eat, but not often at the refined levels which will be referred to in these stories. I hope you find this delectable, nonetheless.

Trigger Warning: Those sensitive to the subject of eating disorders should be aware that they play a very small part in this story.

Length/Word Count: 27,000+

Genre: Drama, Comedy, Romance

Summary: AU - What might occur in an alternative universe where Miranda Priestly's assistant was one Nate Cooper and Andrea Sachs is an aspiring chef. This is the second "course" in a series called "Life is a Banquet" - aka LIAB.

You could read this story without reading the first one, but really: Why deprive yourself of that pleasure - and the insight it will provide into this one? You can begin it here.

Disclaimer: The Devil Wears Prada belongs to Lauren Weisberger and 20th Century Fox. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Not for profit, just fun.

Banner: By Medora MacD, using stills from The Devil Wears Prada and Rachel Getting Married.

A/N: Sincere, deep, and lasting thanks to corchen, gsdcow, and the amazing raiderl for helping me amp up the “cowbells.” Credit to Marge Kennedy, whose paraphrased comment about soup is the theme for this installment. All comments and feedback are welcome.

Tags: all: fiction, genre: AU, pairing: andy/miranda, rating: R, status: wip, series: life is a banquet, user: medora_macd

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IN THE SOUP

( Part One ) | ( Parts Two and Three )  |  ( Part Four )  |  | 




PART SIX

Sunday, June 8, 2008

After a quick call home and a catnap, Andy was ready again for company. She tracked down her cell - it was in the bathroom this time, of all places - and dialed one of the numbers Caroline had inked in black marker on the upper edge of her cast. It turned out to be Cassidy’s. Almost before she said goodbye, the girls were downstairs, one carrying an Xbox and the other toting controllers and several video games.

Playing on a big screen took some getting used to, but Andy held her own. Cassidy, she discovered, was a fierce competitor and a sore loser. Caroline had a softer heart, holding back in order to let Andy win every third contest or so.

Around 5:15, a phone rang. “Hey, Mom. Sure. You want your usual? Delivered down here? Okay.” Caroline hung up and informed her sister and Andy that it was time to call Smith and Wollensky with their dinner order.

After looking over the menu Caroline handed her, Andy picked one of the least expensive ones - lemon pepper chicken - and a side of asparagus and a dessert. Confirming that Cassidy wanted her usual too, Caroline called in their order.

While the twins played several more games of Mario Kart to determine the day’s grand champion, Andy set the table, putting out silverware and water. By the time Miranda came downstairs, she even had a centerpiece on the table, blossoms plucked from the flower boxes beside her bedroom door.

“How lovely. Thank you, Andréa.”

“Hey, how do you know I didn’t do it?” Cassidy asked indignantly.

“Because it isn’t dandelions?” The remark was offhanded, the slight unintended, but Cassidy bristled. Andy jumped in, anxious to avert conflict.

“Dandelions. Darn, I should have gone for those. You can help me collect them next time, Cass. They’re a great source of iron and available almost everywhere. Best cooked when they’re young. These are nasturtiums. You can eat nasturtium blossoms, too - they’re peppery. They taste great battered and deep fat fried.”

She was babbling. Shut it, Sachs. You’re sounding like a loony. She pulled the dishes out of the bags Smith and Wollensky had delivered them in.

“The half order of ribs and baked potato? That’s yours, Cassidy? And the chicken caesar salad is yours, Caroline? So you must be filet mignon, Miranda. That looks great. And the chicken and asparagus is for me.” She nudged to the side the small bag that held the piece of cake she’d ordered, self-conscious about the fact that she seemed to be the only one to order dessert. She’d eat it when everyone left.

When everyone had her meal, they dug in, Andy pausing only to say grace.

“Not bad,” she said moments later. “Good solid sustenance.”

“What’s ‘ita-whatever’?” Cassidy asked. “You know, what you said before you started eating?”

“‘Itadakimasu’?” Andy said.

“Yeah.”

“It’s what Japanese people say before they eat. It means ‘I humbly receive,’” Andy replied. “It’s like saying thanks for what has been provided and who provided it. Or offering a blessing?” She kept it simple, not knowing what religious rituals the Priestlys observed or that Miranda might approve.

“How do you say it?” Caroline asked. “’Eee-tah … what?”

“Eeh-tah-DAH-kee-MAHs.”

She was touched when not only the girls, but also Miranda repeated the word until it sounded the way she said it. “Jozu desu!” she said. “Good work!”

Nobody seemed to know what to talk about after that, so she took the lead. “What did you have for brunch today? Was it as good as this?”

“I had waffles with apples,” said Caroline. “Mindy had smoked salmon on … biotch?”

Miranda shot Andy a glance that warned her not to laugh. “Brioche,” she corrected gently.

“Brioche. And her dad had scrambled eggs. And Cassidy had … blitzes?”

“Blintzes,” Miranda said. “With raspberries and crème fraîche.”

“What was that weird stuff you had, Mom?” Cassidy asked.

“The cold soup? That’s gazpacho. It’s Spanish.”

“No … the fish thing.”

“Ah, the harissa-marinated flounder with zucchini. It was delicious.”

“Hey, I had harissa today, too!” Andy said. “With eggs. Good stuff. What else?”

“We had ice cream for dessert. Mom had coffee flavor, of course, and Mindy, Cassidy, and I had pistachio - it was green! And Mindy’s dad had vanilla.”

“Wow, sounds awesome,” said Andy, though she really had to wonder what kind of nitwit went to a four-star restaurant and ordered scrambled eggs and vanilla ice cream.

“You sure talk about food a lot,” Caroline said, pushing a crouton around on her plate with her fork. She’d eaten all the chicken in her salad, Andy saw, and a good portion of the greens.

“That I do,” said Andy, spearing another piece of asparagus and popping it in her mouth. She darted a look at Miranda. They had agreed that Andy would keep an eye on Caroline’s eating habits, but as a friend to the girl, not a snitch. Andy was only to report to Miranda if she saw signs of a recurrence of her purging activities.

“Is that because cooking’s your job?”

“No. Cooking is my job because I find food fascinating. It’s not just how it tastes. It’s how it’s presented, how interesting or original the combinations are, how it fits the season, the setting, and my mood.”

“It’s not all that different from fashion, then,” said Miranda.

“Hmmm. I never thought of it that way.” Andy took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. She swallowed.

“Then there’s all the practical considerations: the ways it feeds the body, makes it strong and healthy.” She hesitated, then took the plunge. “I have to say, there’s not much about high fashion that strikes me as being very practical.”

She snuck a peek at Miranda. Had she gone too far?

“What?” Miranda replied in mock indignation. “You don’t think tottering around on four-inch heels is practical? Perhaps not if you’re trying to escape from predators in the jungle. But if you’re trying to get recognized as the king of the jungle …”

“You mean the ‘queen,’ surely?” Andy asked with a smile, raising her glass to take a drink.

“Tell that to Louis the 14th …” Miranda riposted before leveling a deadpan gaze on Andy and adding coolly, “And don’t call me Shirley.”

Andy grabbed a napkin, trying desperately not to shower Miranda with the water she had just filled her mouth with.

Damn! Her timing on that had been absolutely impeccable! Andy was dumbfounded. Airplane! was NOT a movie she pictured the Queen of Fashion being at all familiar with.

Was it something she'd watched with the kids? Nah. They didn’t seem to have a clue why Andy had choked. And something about the set of Miranda’s mouth suggested she was pleased with herself. Extremely pleased. As she should be. Advantage Priestly!

“Point. Sorry for the interruption. Continue, please.”

“If you are trying to get recognized as the monarch of the jungle such ostentatious displays can be very practical.”

“Game, set, and match!”

Andy was impressed not only with Miranda’s argument but with the non-defensive way she had presented it. She doubted, somehow, that she would have received a similar one in the presence of a more mature crowd, particularly one containing Miranda’s peers in the fashion industry.

Still, better not press my luck. Time to change the subject, methinks …

“Enough about me. Tell me about you guys. What’s day camp like?”

Day camp at Dalton served a number of purposes, Andy discovered. In addition to providing the school’s parents with a safe and enriching place for their children to be over the summer, it provided recent alumni with summer jobs as teachers’ aides. The girls had Spanish and Junior Great Books and then a class on urban architecture that met from 11 to 12 on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday and from 11 to 3 on Tuesday and Thursday in order to accommodate field trips.

“We went to the Empire State Building last week,” Caroline said. “We’re going to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge next week. Have you ever been to Brooklyn?”

“I have. My friend Doug lives in Brooklyn Heights. What do you do on the other afternoons?”

“Well, camp’s done after lunch on Friday, of course,” Cassidy said. “So people can get to Penn Station for their trains to the Hamptons, things like that.”

Oooh. The Hamptons. Of course. “So, after lunch on Mondays and Wednesdays?”

“I’m taking the Art Sampler - painting, photography, PhotoShop, and printmaking,” Caroline said.

“Cool. I love photography, but I don’t know anything about PhotoShop. Maybe you can teach me. How about you, Cass?”

“I’m taking the Sports Sampler - soccer, softball, tennis, and volleyball.”

“Wow, sounds like fun. I played volleyball in high school and some tennis too. I’d love to come watch if that’s allowed. So … What do you guys do after camp?”

“Salma brings us home or takes us over to our friends’ houses to hang out,” Cassidy said, something in her tone suggesting that she thought she was much too old to need a babysitter. “She stays until Mom gets home.” Her voice took on a sharper edge. “Which is always really late in the summer because of the September issue.”

Miranda twitched a little at the jab. “It shouldn’t be as bad as last summer, Bobbseys. We can thank the poor economy for that, at least. Only 750 pages or so this September instead of 840 like last year.”

“My gosh! 840 pages? Really? That’s not a magazine! That’s … War and Peace!”

“Exactly,” said Miranda wearily. “Never again, even when the economy does pick up. It costs entirely too much.” The expression on her face as she looked at her daughters made it clear that she was talking about much more than monetary outlay.

Andy tried to remember what things had been like for Nate last summer. As Miranda’s second assistant, he must have been up to his ears in work too. She didn’t recall having missed him all that much, even though they were living together at the time. Should have been a major clue, eh?

Andy eyed the bag that held the dessert she’d ordered. Time for a little artful distraction. She pushed her dinner plate to one side and opened it.

“Wow, this looks great. Anybody want a taste? It’s chocolate mousse cake.” Getting no takers, she dug in. “Hmm,” she said, savoring the first bite. “There’s a touch of raspberry in here as well as bittersweet chocolate. Did they use Chambord, I wonder, or fresh fruit?”

“Does it matter?” Cassidy said. “It’s just food.”

“Just food!” Andy clutched her chest. She looked at Miranda. “You might as well say ‘just shoes’ or ‘just a dress’!” They exchanged smiles that acknowledged their respective manias.

“It’s true, I’m afraid,” said Andy. “I can be every bit as obsessive about food as some people are about fashion.” She took another bite, stifling a moan of appreciation as its silky sweetness slid down her throat.

“I’m interested in almost everything about food. Where it comes from, how it’s grown, who works on it, how it’s shipped and processed, what it costs and who can afford it, how it nourishes the body …”

“Your body is going to be very ‘nourished’ if you always eat like that,” said Caroline pointedly as Andy finished off the cake.

“Caroline Chana Priestly…” Miranda began in dark tones, but Andy waved her off.

“Yes, I’m going to have to be careful about that. Weight is a major problem in America today. Still, I lost a few pounds while I was in the hospital. The painkillers suppressed my appetite. And then there was the food.”

She and Caroline wrinkled their noses in remembrance of the fare, which neither had enjoyed all that much.

“Good thing it’s summer - there’s lots of fresh fruits and vegetables available. Physical therapy’s going to be tough, but it won’t burn up the same number of calories as I did when I could run every morning.”

“Speaking of physical therapy,” Miranda said, “it is time to wrap things up, girls. Andréa needs her rest. Off you go. Take your dishes with you and dispose of them properly.” She watched the twins head up the stairs, then turned back to Andy. “Do you need anything before I depart?

“Nope, I’m good. Rosalind will be here to tuck me in at 9. Um, what’s the schedule tomorrow, anyway? I haven’t had a chance to study the printout yet.”

“Honestly, Andréa. Reading a single sheet of paper and keeping track of it … is it too much to ask?”

For the first time that day, Miranda displayed serious irritation. Andy prepared to raise shields and take evasive action.

Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose, and then, inexplicably, chose to answer Andy’s question instead of blowing her out of the sky. Her tone was decidedly cool, however, and her reply terse.

“I presume you know your own schedule. As for us … Consuelo arrives at 7 to make breakfast for me and the girls. She’s here until 5 when her daughter Esperanza arrives to prepare dinner, which is served at 6. Esperanza leaves at 7 after everything is cleaned up.

“Roy drives me to work at 8 each morning, then returns to drive the girls to school. Their nanny, Salma, meets them there at 3. She supervises after-school gatherings, eats dinner with them and oversees homework and other activities until I return home around 8 or 9. The Book is delivered at 9:30 or 10. I go to bed after I finish, 11:30 if I’m lucky.”

“Wow. I mean, WOW! I didn’t realize…”

“Few do,” Miranda snipped.

Andy quickly did the math. The Dragon Lady was putting in 70+ hours a week. Shit. No wonder she got extra crispy around the edges at times. Like now, for instance.

“Well, I do. Realize, that is. Thank you for going over that with me. And for dinner too. I really enjoyed it.”

“I found it pleasant as well,” Miranda said, almost grudgingly. “And informative. I enjoyed learning more about you … and about my girls. It’s going to be good for them having you here.”

“It will be good for me having them around too, I think. I’ve been spending so much time in the kitchen that I’ve forgotten that one of the best accompaniments for a meal is conversation with others.”

* * * * *

Say, what the heck was I worried about?  thought Andy after Miranda left. This is going to work out fine. Just fine.

She picked up the remote, tuned the TV to PBS.

I won’t be seeing much of HER given that mind-boggling workload. Too bad. Mind you, the woman’s a freaking minefield. You can set her off by breathing wrong.

But she’s fascinating. I mean, “Don’t call me Shirley”? That was cosmic. Wonder if she knows how to “speak jive” too?

She laughed aloud at the image that conjured up.

Still, it looks like there’s going to be plenty of time to hang with the kids. That’s going to be fun. It’s nice being part of a family again … Didn’t realize how much I missed that.

Ooh, look. Oxford! Damn that place is pretty! Got to visit there some day.
She settled back in her chair. Time for Inspector Lewis to solve another classy Masterpiece Mystery.

To Part Seven