quatre: they will put away the sword

[untamedantinous]

There are a number of kitchens to be found in the mansion, as most people know. Enjolras is in one of them, flour speckling his flannel shirt and black jeans. There is a recipe book open on the counter near him, open to a page on baguettes. The young man in question is currently absorbed in kneading some dough: once again, something new to concentrate on. (Yes, he had known that Combeferre and Courfeyrac were only here for a day, but that does not really make it much better.) So, inspired by Laertes -- and, perhaps, the underwhelming boeuf bourguignon the mansion had provided the other day -- he is attempting a French classic. Perhaps a homemade baguette will taste better than mansion-provided food.

Comments

[futaille]

Grantaire is walking into the kitchen to grab a snack and almost doesn't recognize Enjolras in the clothes he's not used to, but only almost. He pauses in the doorway, blinking a few times, before he enters. "Found a new pastime?"

[timebethine]

Laertes has his own baking to do--he's going to attempt a steamed nutbread, although he'll be using walnuts instead of kulunuts. When he sees Lucien at the counter, though, he tucks the recipe back into his pocket. "Hallo," he says warmly, coming up behind Lucien to wrap his arms around him. "Might I lend a hand?"

[untamedantinous]

"Mm?" He turns and glances at Grantaire, continuing in his work. There is --flour everywhere, including on his face, but he is making the effort at least. "I suppose so. I have never tried it before, but--" he shrugs. "The boeuf bourguignon the cold box gave me the other day was quite frankly an embarrassment, and I was hoping I might do a little better."

[untamedantinous]

"Hallo," with a warm smile in return, and he leans back against Laertes a little to look at him properly. (There is flour smudged on his cheek.) "If you'd like to, yes. I'm afraid I've made a bit of a mess of the entire counter."

[timebethine]

"And thyself." Laertes runs his thumb over Lucien's cheek, smearing away most of the flour. "What art thou making? How can I aid thee?"

[futaille]

"Well, if you take to it with the diligence you do anything else, I have no doubt it will be a fine loaf of bread indeed." He pauses. "Also, you have flour on your face."

[untamedantinous]

"I wouldn't bet on it. I do not think I have ever baked a thing in my life." He frowns and brushes at his face, which just serves to smudge the flour around some more. "Do I? Thank you."

[untamedantinous]

"Baguettes. I had some bourguignon the other day that was --truly terrible, and I thought I might at least do better than that. I do need to let this rest though, I think, so if you would like to grease one of those bowls there, that would be helpful."

[timebethine]

"At thy command," Laertes says, and lets him go. "Butter, or olive oil?"

[futaille]

"Well, you'll at least get there eventually, then." The attempt, though, at wiping the flour off his face makes him stifle laughter. "That didn't... here." He only hesitates for half a breath before stepping forward to wipe the flour off himself.

He clears his throat. "There. Good as new."

[untamedantinous]

Enjolras gives him a small smile and a nod, moving back to let the dough rest a little and wash his hands. "Thank you. It is a bit of a mess in here. Hopefully I can straighten it up some while the dough sits. I think that is the next step."

[untamedantinous]

"Mm, I do not think it says." He frowns over at the recipe for a moment. "Ah -- olive oil, it looks like."

[timebethine]

Then Laertes gets out the olive oil and pours a little into the bottom of the bowl, swiping it up the edges with a paper towel until the bowl is fully greased.

[futaille]

Grantaire steps back as well, lightly rubbing his fingertips against one another¹. "I could help?"


¹ To knock the flour off. Clearly. Obviously.

[untamedantinous]

"If you'd like," he offers, turning his attention to the recipe book. "What have you been doing with yourself, then, the last few days?"

[untamedantinous]

"Thank you," with a smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He takes the dough from the board he was kneading it on and deposits it in the bowl, covering it with a cloth. "There, now it must rest for a half hour or so, I think. Until it has doubled in size."

[futaille]

Grantaire shrugs and starts to collect mixing bowls and the like to clean. "Eh, you know me. Drinking, carousing, playing pointless games."

[timebethine]

"I confess, this is the hardest part of baking bread," says Laertes ruefully. "Many's the time I've forgotten the bread while it proved, and come back hours later to find my yeast run amok."

[untamedantinous]

"Hopefully that will not be the case, otherwise I may well get discouraged." He's joking, clearly, and moves to go scrub the excess dough from his hands. "Have you made baguettes yet?"

[timebethine]

"Not yet--what makes them different from other breads?"

[untamedantinous]

By the power of wibbly-wobbly time, Enjolras deposits the dough in the greased bowl, covers it, and moves to help Grantaire as well. "That does sound like you," he agrees, with a wry kind of look. "--I am glad we got to see Courfeyrac and Combeferre."

[futaille]

He nods. "So am I." He scrubs at a mixing bowl. "Whatever else this place does in the future, I'll be grateful to it for giving them back to you for a day."

[untamedantinous]

"The outside is very crisp and should crunch when one bites into it, but the inside is soft and chewy." He reaches to inspect the recipe. "I think it is due to the water in it, or some such thing, according to this. I can say they are very good with cheese, or a bit of butter and jam."

[untamedantinous]

"You and Courfeyrac seemed to have a good enough time," mildly. "Though I am sorry it did not think to bring Joly or Bossuet."

[timebethine]

"I'll not guide thee, then--I've been learning brioches for Grantaire, and rye bread for myself, but this style is as new to me as to thee." Laertes comes over to glance at the recipe, and asks as he draws near, "How art thou?"