Page 38 of The Devil She Knows
“So,” Daphne said. “You basically made a pretentious s’more?”
Hannah smiled tightly. “I prefer the wordelevated.”
“I’m sure you do.” Daphne turned to Cerberus. “Judges, what do we think?”
The air trembled and the beast began to speak in a language Sam couldn’t understand, and yet somehow, she knew exactly what it was saying as if a translation was being fed right into the language center of her brain.
Beautiful presentation, one of the heads rumbled.Good flavor, but the cookie isn’t crunchy enough.
Yes, another agreed.The cake needed more time to dehydrate.
Your pâte de guimauve isn’t very white, the third complained.Not enough air was introduced while whipping the egg whites.
Sam took a step closer to Daphne and dropped her voice. “What language is this?”
“Ancient Greek,” Daphne whispered back. “Doric dialect.”
Huh. Doric-speaking gourmand hellhounds. Go figure.
I’m less than impressed by the guimauve.The second head nudged its plate away with its massive snout.Traditional pâte de guimauve calls for marshmallow-root extract, which this does not have. I expected marshmallow-root extract. That is what sets it apart from marshmallow crème. You, Chef Liu, have served us fluff.
A menacing growl filled the air, and Sam flinched.
No amount of calling a dog’s tail a leg will make it so.
With each critique, Hannah’s face fell a little more. Sam wished she could reach out, take her hand, squeeze her arm, soothe Hannah with her touch, her words insufficient. But that would be odd to this Hannah who didn’t know Sam personally, this Hannah whom Sam was supposed to have met for the first time today.
“Judges.” Daphne clapped her hands. “Your final scores?”
Seventy-six.
Hannah covered her mouth with her hand, distraught.
Eighty-nine.
Hannah blew out a breath, shoulders slumping, and tipped her head in thanks.
The final judge deliberated for a moment, red eyes narrowed, its tongue lolling from its mouth.
Seventy-one.
Hannah turned away quickly, head in her hands, palms pressed against her eyes.
“Chef Liu, your cumulative score for the dessert round is 236, bringing your total score for the competition to 735. Respectable.” Daphne looked at Sam. “Chef Cooper, what delightful dish have you prepared for our judges?”
Sam gulped. “Right. Hi, I, uh, I have for you a chocolate bread pudding with brown-butter pears in a Sazerac sauce, which I have flambéed.”
Once more, the beast devoured the dish.
The absinthe was a brave choice, the head nearest her said.I was not enthused by the idea, but it surprised me, pairing nicely with the creaminess of the pudding and the richness of the chocolate. I only wish you would have dehydrated your cake first to better soak up the custard.
That was … a fair critique.
Very moist, the head farthest from Sam commended.
The middle head rocked up and down in a facsimile of a nod, somehow both canine and serpentine at once.The chocolate-and-pear combo reminds me of poires belle Hélène. And the Sazerac is a charming nod to your Louisiana roots.
Sam didn’t know what to say. This felt like one of those nightmares she had after taking Benadryl. Or a fever dream,maybe. A vivid, bizarre, unpleasant acid trip of an experience that—even if she weren’t truly in any danger—once she left here, she’d be in no hurry to repeat. Never would still be too soon.
