Cammie & Jean-Paul: Gods of Cookery

[x-scorpion.livejournal.com]

Jean-Paul teaches Cammie some basic cooking skills as the two talk.

Foods with a high dairy content tended to mold the fastest, so the cooking lesson for today was a simple tuna casserole -- noodles, a few vegetables, a bit of protein, and tons of cheese. Of course, Jean-Paul being Jean-Paul, cooking lessons with noodles involved getting out the pasta recipes and kneading dough. And if Cammie happened to release a bit of toxin into the dough during prep, it just meant that he'd have to wash the dishes with extra care and toss the dish rags after.

"How are things going down at the boathouse anyway?" he asked, contemplating a choice of knives as Cammie worked on the dough.

“They’re okay,” Cammie said, kneading the dough was interesting. It wasn’t something she had ever done outside a home-ec class in middle school. “Watching Cats work is always fun,” she said with a laugh. The Catgirl made everything into a game. “How was Scots-land, see any kilts get blown up in the wind?”

Jean-Paul chuckled and came back to the counter with a sufficiently sharp blade and a rolling pin, waiting on the dough.

"I was not quite so fortunate. It was good for me to get away for a bit. I liked being surrounded by water. The waves on the rocks at night were different. Distracting."

Cammie stepped away from the dough, she had flour on her hands, which wasn’t something she was used to but it wasn’t a real bad thing, “Aw, that’s too bad. I’m of the opinion that every good looking guy in that country should have to wear a kilt in public.”

"That's very limiting. Here, that is enough." Jean-Paul dusted the counter with flour and gave the heavy plastic rolling pin the same treatment before handing it over. "Roll the dough out to about a quarter inch thickness. Anyway, as I was saying, you are limiting yourself. Why just Scotland?"

“Got’cha. And good point, but how many hot American men are going to walk around in what they think are skirts? I mean, if we could get them to do it, that’d be awesome,” she said with a grin as she started with the rolling pin.

"Obviously, the next step is to take over the world and start making decrees. Or run for office, but I think taking over the world is less messy."

“Well then, take over the world it is. While politics is an interesting side show I don’t think I ‘d want to get involved in that and the sooner we start handing out man-skirts the better. Kilts for the world. So long as you're male and hot,” Cammie said with a laugh. “So, who here would you stick in a kilt?” she asked.

"You have seen the men around here, Cammie -- the list of the ones who would do a kilt an injustice is much shorter. Perhaps non-existent." Jean-Paul pretended to consider. "Hmm. Scott's recent injury takes him out of the running, no pun intended."

“That’s true, but it doesn’t mean you don’t have an order of preference about these things,” Cammie said and laughed at the last, “Yeah. It would,” she stopped and looked at the dough, “So how’s this, then? Here I thought these rolling pin things were just supposed to be weapons in silent movies.”

After a brief inspection, Jean-Paul nodded. "That will do. Shall I do the cutting," he teased, "or should I trust you with a sharp object?"

“Knowing what it’s like to be stabbed first hand?” Cammie returned, “I’ll only cut the dough,” she promised. “Stabbing is a sucker’s way to take someone out anyway.”

"I cannot say it rated high on my list of pleasant experiences either." He watched approvingly as Cammie sliced the dough into long, thin strips, then transferred them to the pot of boiling water on the stove. "You are not half bad at this cooking thing." He nodded toward the casserole dish, the ingredients all mixed and simply awaiting their final layer of pasta.

"There is something satisfying about doing it all yourself, even if it is time consuming."

“Yeah, I’m surprising myself. Feeling all home-ec-y,” she said flipping her braid back over her shoulder. “It’s kind of fun. Not something I’ll do every day or anything. But yeah,” she said shaking her head a bit, “So… uh… say someone were slightly interested in getting a GED do you know how they’d go about that?”

Jean-Paul offered her a smile at that. "I got my equivalency in Canada; I am not sure quite how they do it here. But I can look into it if you are interested. I would encourage it, personally."

“Yeah. I mean, if I’m going to take over the world and make all the hot guys wear kilts I should at least have a high school degree, right?” Cammie said jokingly, grabbing a paper towel to get the flour off her hands. “It’s funny, I mean, I have two jobs and I’m still bored. Two jobs and weekly sessions of getting my ass kicked by a hairy guy with claws. How is it I’m still bored?”

"There is a difference, I think, between the things we do to fill time and the things we do to move ourselves forward. Eating mat with Logan is considerably less boring than sitting on one's behind and waiting for the next thing to come along and distract, but it is not quite the same as having something to work toward." Jean-Paul poked at the boiling pasta with a fork. "Of course, if you are taking the time to train with Logan, working toward the day when you stay on your feet for more then ninety seconds at a time is a goal in and of itself."

“One day, I’ll get him to eat mat,” Cammie said, “Just not sure how I’m gonna do it,” she admitted. “I thought maybe if Lil and I jumped him, but Lil totally chickened out of that idea. But yeah, I think you’re right. I’ve only talked to Kurt ‘bout this, so don’t go around telling everyone or anything like that.”

Jean-Paul snorted quietly. "I think there has been quite enough grist for the rumor mill lately. My lips are sealed on the matter. And I think this batch is ready. Bring the casserole over here and we will get this into the oven."