Page 38 of Kissing for Keeps
I cover my laugh with a hand, my eyes filling with tears. In between fits of laughter, I manage to eke out, “You spent 250 euros on… fungus!”
Against his will, a smile builds on Jack’s lips. He gives a reluctant chuckle, and then both of us are laughing like maniacs in the streets of Sarlat.
Jack wipes at his eyes. “Guess we’re having truffles covered in walnuts and cheesy strawberries for dinner all week.”
Blinking away my own tears, I pat him on the back. “Just think of how happy those pigs will be, knowing you believed in them enough to buy their product.”
He gives a couple of pig snorts, and it almost sets me off again.
The ringing of the church bell across the square reminds me it’s noon, and we have yet to accomplish the entire purpose of our visit. The realization wipes the smile from my face.
“We’re running out of options.”
He sheds his Peppa Pig impression and puts on his game face. “Right. What was the other thing on the list?”
I pull out my phone and check. “Foie gras.”
He nods. “No idea what that is, but let’s do this.”
Thankfully, I’m a little more observant than Jack, so I’ve noticed a few booths advertising it. We head to the closest one, and I put a hand on Jack’s arm before we approach. He turns to face me, a question in his eyes.
“I think you’ve done enough for the local entrepreneurs today, Jack,” I say slowly and clearly.
Pressing his lips together, he stares at the booth like a man going to the gallows. “I promise not to buy anything else.”
I’m not sure I believe him, but hey, I’ve done my part. I’ve never hadfoie grasbefore, and when the men behind the table tell me it’s made of goose liver, I almost high-tail it out of there. But Jack grabs my hand to keep me in place, still joking around with the guys.
They offer us a sample, spread on baguette, and I try to look grateful as I take it. I let Jack try it first—very selfless of me, right?—holding it just shy of my lips as I watch him chew. If chocolate truffles here taste like garlic sponge, the possibilities for goose liver are, quite frankly, nauseating.
“Mmm,” Jack says, his brow furrowed. Is it focus? Is he acting?
But then I remember his embarrassing pantomiming skills from before, and I feel safe.
Taking a deep breath first, I bite the bread and hesitantly begin to chew. My own reaction mirrors Jack’s. My initial reluctance turns into intrigued curiosity and finally to full-blown astonishment. Goose liver isgood. Words I never thought to say.
Jack and I have to confer, though, because the most pressing question is obviouslyis goose liver an appropriate wedding gift?
We must not be speaking softly enough because the older of the two men doesn’t hesitate to chime in.
“But of course!Foie grasis a delicacy. We have provided it to many brides and grooms like yourselves.”
“Really?” Jack asks before I can cut in and inform the nice man we aren’t the bride and groom.
He nods vigorously. “Of course we would have a special price for such an occasion”—he smiles knowingly—“to help you celebrate your love.”
Jack slings an arm around my shoulders while moving his foot out of stomping reach.
“What do you think?” Jack asks me. “It’s in the budget, isn’t it?”
“Barely,” I say. “But we can’t just hand guests a tin can offoie gras, Jack.”
“Sure we can! Put it in a pretty bag with a pretty ribbon, andvoilà!” He turns to the men for support.
They’re more than eager to provide it. “We also have an option for glass bottles,madame, if you prefer. Like this one over here.” He reaches behind him and shows me a small, tasteful jar.
I do prefer it. These tin cans remind me too much of tuna fish, and canned tuna isnota delicacy. I’m still not sold on the whole thing, but vendors are starting to close up shop. I don’t have anything against thefoie gras. It’s delicious, and it’s a delicacy. It’s just not what I had envisioned, so my mind is having a hard time wrapping around the concept and anticipating what Madi will think. What would André have done in my shoes?
Definitely not bite into a mushroom expecting dessert.
