The Taste of Apricots
The Taste of Apricots
Chapter One
It was the last revelation that sent Lola back to her desk sobbing, looking for that bar of chocolate she kept in her laptop bag. It wasn’t the fact that “Meals with Merlin” was ending, so the host could go on a book tour. That was bad enough, but not nearly as disastrous as what she’d found out about her favorite breakfast. Now the party was ruined, and a months worth of planning had gone down the drain. There was no way, now, that she was going to drop a dress size in time. She could still hear the words ringing in her ears, as she pictured the Herve Leger hanging in her closet, where it would have to remain. What the hell was fructose anyway? And why did they have to put it in yogurt?
It had to be true, she saw her favorite chef say it on TV. Lola had every episode of “Meals with Merlin” DVR’d and often let them play in the background while she sat alone with her laptop in the evenings. She grew quite proud of her ability to pair her take-out dinners to the recipes being featured. On Tuesday, while Merlin described a revolutionary de-boning technique for preparing Peking Duck, Lola nibbled on some left-over Chinese take-out she had found in the back of the fridge. Wednesday night was pizza night, while in the background the studio audience applauded as Merlin concasse’d 12 tomatoes and stirred them into a creamy risotto.
Whenever Lola had a lot of work to do she ordered sushi, so she could type with one hand and hold chopsticks with the other. So it was over Thursday’s cold California rolls that she heard the announcement. Merlin would be appearing on Oprah to pitch his new book, “The Ostentatious Eater.” Lola may have looked a bit like Rachel Ray, but that’s where the similarities ended. In fact, Lola was the sole reason popcorn had been banned in the office microwave. Now she’d been trying this yogurt thing, and if Merlin had any new tips she was determined to hear them first. The next day she sneaked into the conference room during lunch and tried to figure out which button turned on the big TV.
If the guys in the office could come in here and watch sports, why couldn’t she watch her show? She was surprised to see Merlin in a book-tour suit rather than his trademark chef’s outfit, but the voice that had soothed her on so many evenings was unmistakably his. Oprah held up a copy of “The Ostentatious Eater” and the crowd applauded as she hinted at the culinary secrets contained in the book. “Did you know, that tea has almost as much caffeine as coffee?” “Can you believe it?”, “I know”, “And did you know, that some fruits, like figs and apricots were once considered to be aphrodisiacs?” “Can you believe it?”, “I know”, “And did you know, that asparagus makes your…” went the conversation. Lola found a little coffee and a stale cookie left over from the morning’s meeting, and nibbled as the fans ooh’d and ahh’d over Merlin’s every revelation.
Chapter Two
Crispin could see his own breath as he struggled to pull the chef’s coat tighter around his broad shoulders. He liked to get to the green market early and set up his stand, then assist the other merchants in unloading their trucks. The farmers were glad for the help, some driving three hours in the dark to sell their produce in the city. Sometimes they even let him take home some of their left over stock. It was hard to come by organic fruit cheaply, and Crispin bartered whenever he could. Last week, one of the farmers even let him borrow a pickup for a few hours to go check out some used restaurant gear. The stuff was a great find, almost brand new. The prop guys at the studio were so glad he took it off their hands they even threw in an old chef’s uniform.
This last batch had turned out remarkable well, even by his discerning palate. The bit he’d tasted for his so-called breakfast had left him smiling. It wasn’t really morning for him as he’d been up all night working in the kitchen of La Magie. In return for cleanup after his shift, they let him use the space during the off-hours to make his specialty products. Stacking the jars on the folding table, his rough hands gently wiped the labels and penciled in the price tags. $35 for the 6 oz, $50 for the 12 oz, and if you buy 5 you get one free, cash only. He carefully laid out an array of responsibly sourced bamboo tasting spoons and whole-wheat crackers, and then waited for the day to begin.
Chapter Three
She would run it off. There was no other way she thought, and besides the park should be deserted at dawn. Not at all, apparently, as lines were already forming at the market set up in the south corner. She ran past the Koreans with their vegetables, past the two ladies selling goat cheese, and past the big guy with the goofy grin in the lopsided chef’s hat. “Hey baby, want to taste the best thing you’ve ever had?”
Though she didn’t go out much Lola thought she could recognize a pickup line. She stopped running and turned, only to see a pair of muscular tattooed forearms shoving a spoon to her face. The jelly shined bright orange in the morning light, glowing unnaturally like the sunrise coming up over the city skyline. The tip of the bamboo spoon was right under her nose and her breath surrounded it, coating the jelly in a cool mist till it glistened. “This is all organic, it has no added preservatives, made from local produce, has no added sweeteners, and when a cute girl like you supports local farmers, you bring home the taste of the countryside. Did you know, that most lite yogurts actually have a lot of added…”
Lola lost it. It was too early in the morning to be ogled in her workout gear. Maybe her blood sugar was low since she’d skipped her usual breakfast, but she really let him have it. “You self-righteous foodie, you probably charge old ladies eight bucks for a potato,” she screamed. The smile never left his face as she continued, “food comes in cardboard boxes, it’s the same everywhere, and none of this free-range stuff is anything special. How dare you, you think I’m going to pay what? For some marmalade? Are you crazy? Where do you get the nerve…”
Crispin shoved his spoon into her mouth, as hard as he could, just to shut her up. Her eyes closed tightly and she winced as the flavor traveled through her whole body. His spicy jam hit the back of her throat and she swallowed hard. Getting weak in the knees, she bit the edge of the bamboo to steady herself, while her lips sucked down every last drop of his special sauce. He pulled out his spoon and held it up for her to lick, which she did, greedily, while looking into his eyes.
