Nathan and Lorna discuss 'kick'

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Wednesday, midday, Nathan reminds Lorna that he hasn’t thanked her for dinner and gives her feedback on the meal. She uses it as an opportunity to practice her interrogation techniques. Afterward, they make plans to do it again on Saturday for breakfast.



Lorna shut the refrigerator and scribbled down ‘heavy cream’ on the grocery list underneath ‘eggs’, ‘butter’, ‘milk’ and a dramatically written ‘everything else’. Grocery shopping for the house was much like being a quartermaster for an army but with more whining and junk food. Lorna stuck the list back on the side of the fridge and made a mental note to gather the pack horses for a trip to market very soon. Whistling tunelessly, she snagged an apple from the bowl on the counter and a paring knife from the knife block. She wandered out of the kitchen, slicing the apple absentmindedly.

As he turned to enter the kitchen, Nathan sensed her coming through, and managed to both sidestep her and avoid the knife. "It's only fun until someone loses an eye," he said mock-reprovingly, mustering a grin. "Hello, Lorna."

The knife waved at him and continued its dissection. “Hello, Nathan. Want an apple?” Lorna made the offer automatically, holding out a neatly cored slice of fruit. She continued out of the kitchen and leaned against the wall in the hallway, still wary of being in the kitchen with anyone else.

Nathan saw the wariness in her posture, but chose not to let on that he'd noticed. "Sure," he said amiably, taking the slice and watching her for a moment. "I'm remembering I never actually thanked you for that dinner," he said with a brief grin. "Believe me, I intended to give you comparative feedback, but, well... wound up comatose in the medlab and all."

She nodded and gave him a mock-stern look, “Yes, I recall. You know there are easier ways of telling me that you hated the food than dying but some people are just drama queens, I suppose.” She finished slicing the apple then sent the knife back into the kitchen to lay by the sink.

"The food was great," he said, quite sincerely - and quite glad that he did have a clear memory of dinner that night, at least. "You did some different things with the spices in a couple of dishes, but I think you improved on the originals."

“Thank you. Do continue. Feel free to be specific. Tell me about taste, texture, temperature, plating...anything you can think of.” Lorna pushed off from the wall abruptly. “I need a notebook.” She started to head off to get one then stopped. “You were going into the kitchen... are you hungry? I think there is some cacciatore on the bottom shelf.”

"Not hungry," Nathan corrected her, glancing at the fridge. The door opened, and out floated a bottle of water, flying across the intervening distance and into his hand. He smiled a bit sheepishly. "You'd think I wouldn't have objections to American tap water, given the places I tend to spend my time, but it just tastes funny." He made a grandiose gesture down the hall. "Lead on. I'll try and be more detailed."

She watched the floating water bottle, “Wish I could do that. Plastic makes it possible, ha!” She started off down the hall again, trying to remember where she’d left her recipe workbook. “Hey, I have no objections to bottled water. I’ve got a couple of recipes that call for particular brands depending on what you want to achieve.”

Nathan followed her, pondering the potential uses of Perrier. "I find metals easier myself, oddly enough," he said, almost idly. "The structure of them is easier to manipulate."

She grinned at him. “I like metal better too. Though I’m probably biased.” She laughed then snapped her fingers, “The office!”

"The chowder was nice," he said, continuing to follow her. "That was one of the dishes you altered a little, right? It was maybe a bit bland at the inn, but whatever you put in it gave it some extra kick. I'm a fan of 'kick'."

She detoured to the junior staff office and retrieved her notebook, “Kick. Hmm, oh yeah, right.” She scribbled madly for a moment then led him back out and down to an empty classroom. She hopped up on a desk, crossed her legs and gestured for him to continue. “What else?” It was rather like facing a particularly good-natured interrogator.

"The veal cannelloni. That was the other thing that seemed spiced differently," he said, reviewing the meal in his mind. "I liked it, again. See my above comment about 'kick'. I think Moira thought it was a bit too spicey, though."

Lorna wrinkled her nose and flipped back to her notes on that dish. “How much kick is too spicy to a Scot?” She made a note, “Right, I’ll have to try that one again. But other than those two, which yeah, I did spin a bit, how was the match up? Decent? Would your demented genius have recognized his stuff?”

"The maple cider chicken could have been a carbon copy of what was served at the inn," Nathan said. "Likewise with the salmon roulade." He grinned at Lorna. "I'm not being much help, am I? I was pretty startled by how identical they did taste, though. Didn't give you enough credit, I guess."

“Well, it’s not like anyone told you that I have a culinary background,” Lorna replied, waving it off. She frowned down at the page for a moment, “The roulade was okay you said? I had to make some substitutions. I didn’t like the look of...” she stopped and shook her head, distracted by another thought which she noted down in her book, “Anyway, it was similar in texture?”

"Maybe a little softer. But only because I was paying particular attention."

Lorna nodded; she'd expected that. "Excellent. You are a very good test audience except for the coma bits. Don't do that anymore, you might mush the bit of your brain that pays attention to my cooking.”

Nathan raised an eyebrow at her. "I hope you're going to try those breakfast recipes at some point, too?" he asked dryly.

She raised a brow right back at him, "You gonna be coherent enough to test them if I make 'em Saturday?”

"Fully planning on it," he said with a straight face. "I haven't fallen over in... oh, days now."

"Fabulous. Report to the dining room at six-thirty sharp. Any later and I can't guarantee wild roaming hoards of students won't carry the food off." She snapped her book shut.

He couldn't resist tossing off an ironic salute as he turned towards the door. "I'll be there with bells on, ma'am."

"Good. Music is your department then."