Garlic & Butter
Title: Garlic & Butter - Part VI
Pairing: JA/JP
Rating: R for language.
Warning: Um, don't read on an empty stomach?
Disclaimer: Fiction, fiction, and more fiction.
Summary: Jared was born with many gifts, but only one will give him the courage to take a stand for himself, and create magic out of the most humblest of things. Adapted from Ratatouille.
Main Post
November 2008
Jared groaned as he watched Harley and Sadie slip and slide over the ice rink that was once his backyard.
Throughout yesterday, there was a two-step waltz between snow and sleeting rain. Snow took one hour, rain would follow with two. Then, late in the evening the temperatures plummeted, freezing the snow, the rain, and whoever was unfortunate enough to be out and about after midnight.
Jared's truck barely made it up Hanover Avenue last night, and he knew better than to try driving anywhere until the weather warmed up.
Dear Lord, what have I ever done to you to deserve this?
Today was the big day. Today, Jensen was coming over for dinner. Since tomorrow was Monday Jared didn’t have anything on the books, and it being a week before Thanksgiving, odds were good that Jensen didn’t have much to do either. Which all added up to a free evening, night, and morning.
He'd called earlier to see if Jensen wanted to cancel but the man cheerfully said no, and told Jared he'd park at the bottom of the avenue and walk up to the house. Jared felt a warm bloom of gratitude and a great deal of trepidation since today was also the day Jared was going to make his move, starting with the five-course ‘experience’ Sterling advised him about months before. Unfortunately, Jared had forgotten some key ingredients in his rush to leave Spoon last night, and now had to make his way to the nearest market which was at the bottom of Hanover avenue. A very, very long avenue, composed of no less than five enormous and steep hills.
Thinking ahead, Jared phoned the tiny market to find Mr. Stein had already opened his store in spite of the icy mess. Jared called the dogs in, and helped them warm their frosty paws by the fireplace. After making sure they were dry, he dug in his bedroom closet for the necessities to make a successful trek down to Stein’s Greens.
Jared found his cross-country skis easily enough. But it took him longer to find his old ski jacket, a Russian hat made of rabbit's fur, and a backpack to transport the food. Sadie actually ripped the hat from his hands and Jared ended up chasing the dog all over the house before he was able to reclaim it.
After making sure the backpack was firmly strapped on, Jared slowly made his way out of the house and down the sidewalk. It didn’t take him long to realize that he’d probably blow out both his knees if he continued, so he carefully maneuvered himself to the street. There was absolutely no car traffic and Jared spotted more than seven skiers, all making good clip up and down the street.
Unfortunately, what Jared didn’t realize was the fact that everyone else was wearing downhill skis. Cross-country skis were de rigeur when one lived in farmland and the hills were gentle.
Queen Anne’s hills were anything but.
By the time Jared came to the end of his street, he realized his momentum was not only gaining, but increasing horrifically fast because of his weight. And he had almost zero maneuverability because he was wearing the wrong skis.
When Jared reached the end of the first hill, he’d passed by all the skiers he’d noticed earlier. He also realized with some anxiousness that the hill that was fast approaching was completely devoid of any traffic.
When he crested that hill, Jared saw why.
Abandoned cars littered the street, right down to the bottom where the avenue flattened dangerously.
“Holy shit!” was all Jared could shout before he swerved by the first parked car. He also managed to dodge the second one but it was a very near miss.
The third car was parked sideways, and Jared had zero chance of avoiding it. It only took a moment for Jared to conclude that chef could cook without legs but not with hands. So, he raised his arms as high as he could. If Jared had hit the hood of the Nissan Sentra above his waistline, he would have stopped. Unfortunately, because of his height, he slammed into the car with his pelvis.
His momentum kept on going, dragging Jared with it. The screaming man completely flipped over the hood and landed on his skis. However, his right pole snapped in half in the crash, so Jared lost what little control he had as he continued his slalom routine down Hanover Avenue.
Jared dizzily remembered his physics classes, and came to the conclusion that with mass times acceleration, he should hit warp three by the end of the fourth hill. It was then he saw an abandoned motorcycle resting on its side, right on top of that hill.
“Motherfucker!!” was his war cry as he leaped right over it.
It was a clean jump but now his acceleration would afford Jared to reach warp six which meant Jared was going to hit bottom and just keep on going until he reached a nice tropical island in the Pacific somewhere.
Jared had a date with Jensen at five, and they were going to have sex, and that meant more than his legs. Or his hands. So Jared plowed into a tree in order not to end up in Samoa.
By the time Jared managed to peel himself off from the elm tree, Mr. Stein had hobbled out of his store with his wife. Between the two, they managed to drag Jared into the store where they plied him with hot coffee and homemade blintzes. It took Jared nearly forty minutes before he could move his arms and legs properly. He asked Mr. Stein to dispose the murderous ski equipment before trudging back out into the cold in borrowed boots.
Drowning in embarrassment, Jared took a backway home.
By noon the battered-yet-romantically-hopeful man had to resort to taking Advil. As far as bruises go, he had only few but they were so bizarrely placed that if Jensen saw him naked, he’d think Jared was into a type of kinky sex that had yet to be identified. Where Jared slammed into the Sentra, a single thick horizontal bruise appeared. And where Jared slammed into the elm tree, which was right down the center of his torso, another line of bruises appeared.
For all intents and purposes, it looked like Jared was carrying a cross when he got run over by a steamroller. However, even Jared knew that would hardly do as an explanation if Jensen decided to stay overnight. So, while he cooked Jared tried to dream up of semi-plausible explanations that didn’t make him sound like a delusional psychotic with really good marketable skills.
And Jared’s luck didn’t improve as the day went on. Jensen showed up on his doorsteps two hours early.
“Are you okay?” was Jensen’s way of greeting.
“What?” Jared blinked furiously. How the fuck could he know?
“Can I come in?” Jensen asked.
“Of course,” Jared said, stepping aside.
Jensen entered the toasty house, greeted the dogs with his usual fondness before saying, “Dude, I saw you on Youtube.”
“Excuse me?” Jared’s stomach began growling and not because of hunger.
“You have a computer?”
Jared led Jensen to his office. Jensen typed up ‘Herminator of Hanover Ave’ into Youtube’s search engine. Sure enough, Jared’s worst fear was realized.
The entire thing looked like it was taken with a small video camera.
“Look at this,” a breathless voice spoke. “Isn’t it beautiful? I’ve never seen…”
Whatever the narrator might have said was drowned out by a booming “aaaaaaahhhhhhhh!” as a tall figure with a fur hat flew by. The camera was able to keep up with the hysterical giant because he slammed into a car before flying head over heels over its hood. The “aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!” merrily kept going until it abruptly ended with a faint but clear “motherfucker!!”
The stunned woman gamely said, “Well, you don’t see that every day. Not even in this neighborhood.”
The goddamn thing already had over a hundred thousand hits.
“Um,” Jared took a deep breath. “What makes you think that’s me?”
Jensen gave Jared a look that said, ‘don’t even think about it.’
“So, care to tell me what happened?” Jensen asked after Jared led him into the kitchen.
Jared tasted the sauce for his smoked pork loin before answering. “I lost control.”
“Of what? Common sense? Self preservation a little too fast for you in the snow?” Jensen asked brusquely. “You could’ve killed yourself! What was so important that you had to risk your life like that?”
“I needed to buy vegetables for dinner,” Jared answered weakly.
Jensen reared back, almost as if Jared had slapped him. “What?”
“I forgot…”
“Jared, I’m grateful you’re doing all this for me, but it’s not worth your life. I would’ve been fine with pizza and beer, for God’s sake.”
“I wanted to make…”
“I was going to stay overnight, no matter what you cooked for me.” Jensen paused for a moment and added, "Maybe not calves' brains..."
For a moment Jared wondered if he should have included ‘head trauma’ into his list of injuries. “Excuse me?”
Jensen placed his right hand on Jared’s face. His thumb lightly brushed over Jared’s eyebrow while the back of his fingers caressed his cheekbone. “I was going to stay.”
“Okay,” Jared said in a tiny, tiny voice. “So … dinner?”
“Whatever you’re making is probably better than anything I ever had in a restaurant, so don’t risk your neck in order to impress me. You already have - and not just with what you can do in the kitchen.”
Jared’s shoulders slumped with relief. “I didn’t want you to think I was some suicidal idiot who would kill himself and his dogs before abandoning his house.”
“Don’t worry about that. You've convinced me otherwise.”
Jared went back to cooking while entertaining Jensen with his adventures in Europe. And, in spite of all the distraction that was Jensen, the meal came out perfectly.
True to his word, Jensen stayed. As Jared watched him sleep with what could only be described as bone-melting satisfaction, he wondered what he could do to keep Jensen with him. By dawn, Jared knew of a way.
May 2009
Holston, Washington
Jared watched with great appreciation as Jensen took off his shirt before returning to work. The area they'd plotted off was far enough from newly-built structures that they could afford to start planting ahead of schedule. When Jared offered Sophia the chance to buy him out back in December, she took it without hesitation. Nobody was surprised to see Jared leave. In fact, his entire staff knew that Jared would return to Devon, just not so soon.
By January, the transfer or ownership and control of Spoon was complete, freeing Jared to return to the place that sheltered him and gave him enough hope to plan for the future. And this time, he came with backup. With him and Jensen firmly living on the farmland, the actual construction had sped up considerably. Having the owner sitting around, camping out in makeshift quarters, while watching with hawkish eyes, gave the builders more than enough inspiration to haul ass. By April both the farmhouse and the restaurant were finished but Jared decided to wait another year before opening Devon. That way he would be able to use produce straight from his farm and from his neighbors.
At first the local farmers didn't believe they would ever regain what they'd lost to the flood. However, as they began repairing and rebuilding, hopes were reborn and mule-headed stubbornness returned. It would take them years but it was possible. And now with Jared's presence in the community, they were also getting badly-needed press, which gave them an outlet for their emotions and dreams. And that, in return, only fueled their desire to drag back what the flood had taken away.
"You plannin' on tanning all day?" Jensen teased as he caught Jared studying him while basking in the sun.
Jared threw a bottle of sunscreen as his reply before he joined Jensen. He took a glance at his watch and said, "It's going to be a long day."
"It's only going to get longer as Summer creeps up," Jensen added.
Jared closed his eyes and thought, oh God, I hope so.
The End
Author's Notes:
This is my version of Ratatouille for the j2_everafter challenge. I had great fun writing something that didn't deal with death and mayhem, though I couldn't completely ignore them. *cough*
This particular story took a lot of editing. Writing about cooking can become extremely dry, especially without pictures. So, I had to cut some descriptive chapters because it was nothing but cooking, and cooking, and more cooking. And I'm not that good a writer or a cook to make those passages even remotely interesting!
The following are a list of books I've used so I could at least make a semi-decent go at Garlic & Butter. In no discernible order:
The Soul of a Chef by Michael Ruhlman
The French Laundry Cookbook by Thomas Keller
Letters to a Young Chef by Daniel Boulud
The Cookbook by Michael Mina
The New Art of Japanese Cooking by Masaharu Morimoto
Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain
Les Halles Cookbook by Anthony Bourdain
Washoku: Recipes from the Japanses Home Kitchen by Elizabeth Endoh
Chefs on the Farm by Shannon Borg
This is what I was referencing when I tagged Jared as 'Herminator of Hanover Avenue". I still can't believe the skier managed to pick himself up and later win gold medals.
I usually don't reply to comments not because I'm 'above' such things, but I'm rather at a loss how to say 'thanks for reading' in all different ways. Instead, I offer a soundtrack as a way of saying thanks for spending your valuable time reading this story. Apologies in advance for the ginormous files, but the upside is the songs are damn good versions!
Garlic & Butter, Part I
Garlic & Butter, Part II
Pairing: JA/JP
Rating: R for language.
Warning: Um, don't read on an empty stomach?
Disclaimer: Fiction, fiction, and more fiction.
Summary: Jared was born with many gifts, but only one will give him the courage to take a stand for himself, and create magic out of the most humblest of things. Adapted from Ratatouille.
Main Post
November 2008
Jared groaned as he watched Harley and Sadie slip and slide over the ice rink that was once his backyard.
Throughout yesterday, there was a two-step waltz between snow and sleeting rain. Snow took one hour, rain would follow with two. Then, late in the evening the temperatures plummeted, freezing the snow, the rain, and whoever was unfortunate enough to be out and about after midnight.
Jared's truck barely made it up Hanover Avenue last night, and he knew better than to try driving anywhere until the weather warmed up.
Dear Lord, what have I ever done to you to deserve this?
Today was the big day. Today, Jensen was coming over for dinner. Since tomorrow was Monday Jared didn’t have anything on the books, and it being a week before Thanksgiving, odds were good that Jensen didn’t have much to do either. Which all added up to a free evening, night, and morning.
He'd called earlier to see if Jensen wanted to cancel but the man cheerfully said no, and told Jared he'd park at the bottom of the avenue and walk up to the house. Jared felt a warm bloom of gratitude and a great deal of trepidation since today was also the day Jared was going to make his move, starting with the five-course ‘experience’ Sterling advised him about months before. Unfortunately, Jared had forgotten some key ingredients in his rush to leave Spoon last night, and now had to make his way to the nearest market which was at the bottom of Hanover avenue. A very, very long avenue, composed of no less than five enormous and steep hills.
Thinking ahead, Jared phoned the tiny market to find Mr. Stein had already opened his store in spite of the icy mess. Jared called the dogs in, and helped them warm their frosty paws by the fireplace. After making sure they were dry, he dug in his bedroom closet for the necessities to make a successful trek down to Stein’s Greens.
Jared found his cross-country skis easily enough. But it took him longer to find his old ski jacket, a Russian hat made of rabbit's fur, and a backpack to transport the food. Sadie actually ripped the hat from his hands and Jared ended up chasing the dog all over the house before he was able to reclaim it.
After making sure the backpack was firmly strapped on, Jared slowly made his way out of the house and down the sidewalk. It didn’t take him long to realize that he’d probably blow out both his knees if he continued, so he carefully maneuvered himself to the street. There was absolutely no car traffic and Jared spotted more than seven skiers, all making good clip up and down the street.
Unfortunately, what Jared didn’t realize was the fact that everyone else was wearing downhill skis. Cross-country skis were de rigeur when one lived in farmland and the hills were gentle.
Queen Anne’s hills were anything but.
By the time Jared came to the end of his street, he realized his momentum was not only gaining, but increasing horrifically fast because of his weight. And he had almost zero maneuverability because he was wearing the wrong skis.
When Jared reached the end of the first hill, he’d passed by all the skiers he’d noticed earlier. He also realized with some anxiousness that the hill that was fast approaching was completely devoid of any traffic.
When he crested that hill, Jared saw why.
Abandoned cars littered the street, right down to the bottom where the avenue flattened dangerously.
“Holy shit!” was all Jared could shout before he swerved by the first parked car. He also managed to dodge the second one but it was a very near miss.
The third car was parked sideways, and Jared had zero chance of avoiding it. It only took a moment for Jared to conclude that chef could cook without legs but not with hands. So, he raised his arms as high as he could. If Jared had hit the hood of the Nissan Sentra above his waistline, he would have stopped. Unfortunately, because of his height, he slammed into the car with his pelvis.
His momentum kept on going, dragging Jared with it. The screaming man completely flipped over the hood and landed on his skis. However, his right pole snapped in half in the crash, so Jared lost what little control he had as he continued his slalom routine down Hanover Avenue.
Jared dizzily remembered his physics classes, and came to the conclusion that with mass times acceleration, he should hit warp three by the end of the fourth hill. It was then he saw an abandoned motorcycle resting on its side, right on top of that hill.
“Motherfucker!!” was his war cry as he leaped right over it.
It was a clean jump but now his acceleration would afford Jared to reach warp six which meant Jared was going to hit bottom and just keep on going until he reached a nice tropical island in the Pacific somewhere.
Jared had a date with Jensen at five, and they were going to have sex, and that meant more than his legs. Or his hands. So Jared plowed into a tree in order not to end up in Samoa.
By the time Jared managed to peel himself off from the elm tree, Mr. Stein had hobbled out of his store with his wife. Between the two, they managed to drag Jared into the store where they plied him with hot coffee and homemade blintzes. It took Jared nearly forty minutes before he could move his arms and legs properly. He asked Mr. Stein to dispose the murderous ski equipment before trudging back out into the cold in borrowed boots.
Drowning in embarrassment, Jared took a backway home.
By noon the battered-yet-romantically-hopeful man had to resort to taking Advil. As far as bruises go, he had only few but they were so bizarrely placed that if Jensen saw him naked, he’d think Jared was into a type of kinky sex that had yet to be identified. Where Jared slammed into the Sentra, a single thick horizontal bruise appeared. And where Jared slammed into the elm tree, which was right down the center of his torso, another line of bruises appeared.
For all intents and purposes, it looked like Jared was carrying a cross when he got run over by a steamroller. However, even Jared knew that would hardly do as an explanation if Jensen decided to stay overnight. So, while he cooked Jared tried to dream up of semi-plausible explanations that didn’t make him sound like a delusional psychotic with really good marketable skills.
And Jared’s luck didn’t improve as the day went on. Jensen showed up on his doorsteps two hours early.
“Are you okay?” was Jensen’s way of greeting.
“What?” Jared blinked furiously. How the fuck could he know?
“Can I come in?” Jensen asked.
“Of course,” Jared said, stepping aside.
Jensen entered the toasty house, greeted the dogs with his usual fondness before saying, “Dude, I saw you on Youtube.”
“Excuse me?” Jared’s stomach began growling and not because of hunger.
“You have a computer?”
Jared led Jensen to his office. Jensen typed up ‘Herminator of Hanover Ave’ into Youtube’s search engine. Sure enough, Jared’s worst fear was realized.
The entire thing looked like it was taken with a small video camera.
“Look at this,” a breathless voice spoke. “Isn’t it beautiful? I’ve never seen…”
Whatever the narrator might have said was drowned out by a booming “aaaaaaahhhhhhhh!” as a tall figure with a fur hat flew by. The camera was able to keep up with the hysterical giant because he slammed into a car before flying head over heels over its hood. The “aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!” merrily kept going until it abruptly ended with a faint but clear “motherfucker!!”
The stunned woman gamely said, “Well, you don’t see that every day. Not even in this neighborhood.”
The goddamn thing already had over a hundred thousand hits.
“Um,” Jared took a deep breath. “What makes you think that’s me?”
Jensen gave Jared a look that said, ‘don’t even think about it.’
“So, care to tell me what happened?” Jensen asked after Jared led him into the kitchen.
Jared tasted the sauce for his smoked pork loin before answering. “I lost control.”
“Of what? Common sense? Self preservation a little too fast for you in the snow?” Jensen asked brusquely. “You could’ve killed yourself! What was so important that you had to risk your life like that?”
“I needed to buy vegetables for dinner,” Jared answered weakly.
Jensen reared back, almost as if Jared had slapped him. “What?”
“I forgot…”
“Jared, I’m grateful you’re doing all this for me, but it’s not worth your life. I would’ve been fine with pizza and beer, for God’s sake.”
“I wanted to make…”
“I was going to stay overnight, no matter what you cooked for me.” Jensen paused for a moment and added, "Maybe not calves' brains..."
For a moment Jared wondered if he should have included ‘head trauma’ into his list of injuries. “Excuse me?”
Jensen placed his right hand on Jared’s face. His thumb lightly brushed over Jared’s eyebrow while the back of his fingers caressed his cheekbone. “I was going to stay.”
“Okay,” Jared said in a tiny, tiny voice. “So … dinner?”
“Whatever you’re making is probably better than anything I ever had in a restaurant, so don’t risk your neck in order to impress me. You already have - and not just with what you can do in the kitchen.”
Jared’s shoulders slumped with relief. “I didn’t want you to think I was some suicidal idiot who would kill himself and his dogs before abandoning his house.”
“Don’t worry about that. You've convinced me otherwise.”
Jared went back to cooking while entertaining Jensen with his adventures in Europe. And, in spite of all the distraction that was Jensen, the meal came out perfectly.
True to his word, Jensen stayed. As Jared watched him sleep with what could only be described as bone-melting satisfaction, he wondered what he could do to keep Jensen with him. By dawn, Jared knew of a way.
May 2009
Holston, Washington
Jared watched with great appreciation as Jensen took off his shirt before returning to work. The area they'd plotted off was far enough from newly-built structures that they could afford to start planting ahead of schedule. When Jared offered Sophia the chance to buy him out back in December, she took it without hesitation. Nobody was surprised to see Jared leave. In fact, his entire staff knew that Jared would return to Devon, just not so soon.
By January, the transfer or ownership and control of Spoon was complete, freeing Jared to return to the place that sheltered him and gave him enough hope to plan for the future. And this time, he came with backup. With him and Jensen firmly living on the farmland, the actual construction had sped up considerably. Having the owner sitting around, camping out in makeshift quarters, while watching with hawkish eyes, gave the builders more than enough inspiration to haul ass. By April both the farmhouse and the restaurant were finished but Jared decided to wait another year before opening Devon. That way he would be able to use produce straight from his farm and from his neighbors.
At first the local farmers didn't believe they would ever regain what they'd lost to the flood. However, as they began repairing and rebuilding, hopes were reborn and mule-headed stubbornness returned. It would take them years but it was possible. And now with Jared's presence in the community, they were also getting badly-needed press, which gave them an outlet for their emotions and dreams. And that, in return, only fueled their desire to drag back what the flood had taken away.
"You plannin' on tanning all day?" Jensen teased as he caught Jared studying him while basking in the sun.
Jared threw a bottle of sunscreen as his reply before he joined Jensen. He took a glance at his watch and said, "It's going to be a long day."
"It's only going to get longer as Summer creeps up," Jensen added.
Jared closed his eyes and thought, oh God, I hope so.
The End
Author's Notes:
This is my version of Ratatouille for the j2_everafter challenge. I had great fun writing something that didn't deal with death and mayhem, though I couldn't completely ignore them. *cough*
This particular story took a lot of editing. Writing about cooking can become extremely dry, especially without pictures. So, I had to cut some descriptive chapters because it was nothing but cooking, and cooking, and more cooking. And I'm not that good a writer or a cook to make those passages even remotely interesting!
The following are a list of books I've used so I could at least make a semi-decent go at Garlic & Butter. In no discernible order:
The Soul of a Chef by Michael Ruhlman
The French Laundry Cookbook by Thomas Keller
Letters to a Young Chef by Daniel Boulud
The Cookbook by Michael Mina
The New Art of Japanese Cooking by Masaharu Morimoto
Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain
Les Halles Cookbook by Anthony Bourdain
Washoku: Recipes from the Japanses Home Kitchen by Elizabeth Endoh
Chefs on the Farm by Shannon Borg
This is what I was referencing when I tagged Jared as 'Herminator of Hanover Avenue". I still can't believe the skier managed to pick himself up and later win gold medals.
I usually don't reply to comments not because I'm 'above' such things, but I'm rather at a loss how to say 'thanks for reading' in all different ways. Instead, I offer a soundtrack as a way of saying thanks for spending your valuable time reading this story. Apologies in advance for the ginormous files, but the upside is the songs are damn good versions!
Garlic & Butter, Part I
Garlic & Butter, Part II