Things That Go Hump In The Night by Lily Marie, Terra Wolf, Artemis Wolffe, Mercy May, Amanda Jones, Bliss Devlin, Steffanie Holmes, Christy Rivers, Lily Thorn, Lucy Auburn Page A
Authors: Lily Marie, Terra Wolf, Artemis Wolffe, Mercy May, Amanda Jones, Bliss Devlin, Steffanie Holmes, Christy Rivers, Lily Thorn, Lucy Auburn
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smile.
"Nice to meet you, too," Nicole replied. "I'm really looking forward to dinner."
Sasha lifted one of the spoons and put it front of Nicole. It held a cloudy cube of something on a small bed of micro-greens garnished with delicate curls of lemon zest.
"Compliments of the chef: an oyster in Meyer lemon and tarragon gelee," announced Sasha as he filled one of the tiny porcelain cups. "Served with chilled sake."
"It looks almost too pretty to eat," said Nicole, admiring it.
It would be gauche of her to pull out her smartphone and take a photo, but she was so tempted.
"Please enjoy. I'll return shortly with the first course," said Sasha, and left.
Nicole had always been fairly "meh" about oysters, but the tiny exquisite portion in her mouth exploded with flavors—briny, citrusy, herbal. And the sip of accompanying sake was the perfect chaser.
It was so good that she was sad there wasn't more than a mouthful, but then the first course arrived on a rough-glazed earthenware plate.
Slices of sashimi tuna belly were draped over a small mound of shaved celery, sliced green olives and minced hard-boiled egg, served with a crisp, fruity white Pinot Gris
Nicole decided it was the best thing she had ever tasted...until the next course arrived. And the next, each lovingly described by Sasha as he served them, and each accompanied by a mouthful of perfect wine...reds, whites, and even a dry rosé.
There was a Winter Tidal Pool soup, served in a rough, asymmetric-looking bowl, that included bits of seaweed, chunks of fish, rings of squid, and tiny clams still in their shells, all immersed in a clear golden broth .
A selection of sushi-type dishes followed—a translucent slice of hamachi floating on jade-colored cucumber puree, surrounded by little purple flowers. A tempura roll containing shiso leaf, with a sharp flavor somewhere between mint and basil and tender fish, was accompanied by a battered, deep-fried fiddlehead fern and Japanese plum that added a piquant, salty, slightly sweet tang.
One of the most striking courses came on a glass-domed plate. Inside the dome, Nicole saw what looked like a dense fog. When Sasha removed the cover, a cloud of fragrant smoke escaped, revealing two rectangular dishes, each with a square of glistening smoked salmon and a beautiful molded terrine of creamy avocado.
Then came the parade of hot dishes: a bowl of chewy abalone slices served with shaved truffles, morel mushrooms, and white asparagus; a lobster claw in a pool of spicy miso sauce; a chunk of perfectly grilled snapper served on a spoonful of herbed risotto; and a cut of meltingly tender seared Wagyu beef accompanied by a citrus-soy foam and freshly grated wasabi.
The final savory course was a thick slice of a salty-sweet Japanese-style rolled omelet, served chilled on a square of marble tile with a sprinkling of minced truffle.
Gabriel kept the conversation light as dish after dish arrived, confirming Nicole's impression of him as a very smart, driven man who possessed a wicked sense of humor.
And despite the dangerous flutter of attraction, being here with him made her feel calm and safe—two things she hadn't felt very often since Erik had turned her life upside down.
As they ate, Gabriel told her stories about the early days of Archangel, when the company consisted of Michael, Gabriel, and Rafael, plus nine other people, all working out of a converted old warehouse on the outskirts of the city.
With only nine employees, there had been enough room in the cavernous space for Rafe to organize lunchtime hockey games with inline skates.
"—our UI designer, Brittany, turned out to be our best player. She was a sweet thing who had us all fooled until she put on a pair of skates. Apparently, she'd grown up in Manitoba and had been the star player on her high school hockey team. We were in the process of organizing a league with some of the other start-ups in the area when Prakash broke his wrist in a fall, and our
"Nice to meet you, too," Nicole replied. "I'm really looking forward to dinner."
Sasha lifted one of the spoons and put it front of Nicole. It held a cloudy cube of something on a small bed of micro-greens garnished with delicate curls of lemon zest.
"Compliments of the chef: an oyster in Meyer lemon and tarragon gelee," announced Sasha as he filled one of the tiny porcelain cups. "Served with chilled sake."
"It looks almost too pretty to eat," said Nicole, admiring it.
It would be gauche of her to pull out her smartphone and take a photo, but she was so tempted.
"Please enjoy. I'll return shortly with the first course," said Sasha, and left.
Nicole had always been fairly "meh" about oysters, but the tiny exquisite portion in her mouth exploded with flavors—briny, citrusy, herbal. And the sip of accompanying sake was the perfect chaser.
It was so good that she was sad there wasn't more than a mouthful, but then the first course arrived on a rough-glazed earthenware plate.
Slices of sashimi tuna belly were draped over a small mound of shaved celery, sliced green olives and minced hard-boiled egg, served with a crisp, fruity white Pinot Gris
Nicole decided it was the best thing she had ever tasted...until the next course arrived. And the next, each lovingly described by Sasha as he served them, and each accompanied by a mouthful of perfect wine...reds, whites, and even a dry rosé.
There was a Winter Tidal Pool soup, served in a rough, asymmetric-looking bowl, that included bits of seaweed, chunks of fish, rings of squid, and tiny clams still in their shells, all immersed in a clear golden broth .
A selection of sushi-type dishes followed—a translucent slice of hamachi floating on jade-colored cucumber puree, surrounded by little purple flowers. A tempura roll containing shiso leaf, with a sharp flavor somewhere between mint and basil and tender fish, was accompanied by a battered, deep-fried fiddlehead fern and Japanese plum that added a piquant, salty, slightly sweet tang.
One of the most striking courses came on a glass-domed plate. Inside the dome, Nicole saw what looked like a dense fog. When Sasha removed the cover, a cloud of fragrant smoke escaped, revealing two rectangular dishes, each with a square of glistening smoked salmon and a beautiful molded terrine of creamy avocado.
Then came the parade of hot dishes: a bowl of chewy abalone slices served with shaved truffles, morel mushrooms, and white asparagus; a lobster claw in a pool of spicy miso sauce; a chunk of perfectly grilled snapper served on a spoonful of herbed risotto; and a cut of meltingly tender seared Wagyu beef accompanied by a citrus-soy foam and freshly grated wasabi.
The final savory course was a thick slice of a salty-sweet Japanese-style rolled omelet, served chilled on a square of marble tile with a sprinkling of minced truffle.
Gabriel kept the conversation light as dish after dish arrived, confirming Nicole's impression of him as a very smart, driven man who possessed a wicked sense of humor.
And despite the dangerous flutter of attraction, being here with him made her feel calm and safe—two things she hadn't felt very often since Erik had turned her life upside down.
As they ate, Gabriel told her stories about the early days of Archangel, when the company consisted of Michael, Gabriel, and Rafael, plus nine other people, all working out of a converted old warehouse on the outskirts of the city.
With only nine employees, there had been enough room in the cavernous space for Rafe to organize lunchtime hockey games with inline skates.
"—our UI designer, Brittany, turned out to be our best player. She was a sweet thing who had us all fooled until she put on a pair of skates. Apparently, she'd grown up in Manitoba and had been the star player on her high school hockey team. We were in the process of organizing a league with some of the other start-ups in the area when Prakash broke his wrist in a fall, and our
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