( she nods slowly, a slightly cheekier smile on her now )
One parent one language.
( how's the accent now? she'd picked up her mother's sound of sankt gallen in learning german from her, the only accent she'd ever known german in. american sounding otherwise until her language changed )
My mother spoke German with me, my father English, even as a teenager. Though apparently there was a time I refused to speak anything but German.
( she didn't remember it, adrienne young at that point and too much time having passed since )
[ It makes him laugh, though, picturing it and finding the image endearing no matter how old she'd been. There's something very cute about the notion of Adrienne as a small stubborn child. ]
All right. Say I ever got to go to Switzerland someday. What do you recommend for the first-timers? I'm not sold on the idea of skiing, but I'd try anything else.
( she laughs at the comment of her at school and he's certainly not wrong, though she'd known english enough to understand what was happening even if she refused to speak. something that hadn't lasted at least.
there's a thoughtful hum at his question )
I always loved the Christmas markets. The canton my mother was from always seemed to come alive in a very different way.
( she saw them a lot given that christmas was one of the times she often spent in switzerland )
You'll also just have to accept that our chocolate is better. ( she says it with a full seriousness. she is teasing, everyone has their preference, but she's still stating fact ) It's a very serious thing.
I would never impugn the honor of Swiss chocolate. I know better than that.
[ Equally solemn, because chocolate is serious and weighty business and these are, indeed, facts. He might not be a particular fan of cold winter weather, but the idea of sipping the world's best hot chocolate while watching snow fall on a Christmas market in Switzerland is pretty damn enchanting, and he drifts pleasantly for a moment as he pictures it. ]
I always thought it'd be nice to take in a lecture at the University of Geneva. I suppose that's probably not what most people would want to plan a vacation around, but it would be fun.
Well, if they ever let us out of here, and I ever have the kind of job again that lets me take vacations, then Sankt Gallen will be at the top of my list to visit.
[ It would have seemed too forward, too intimate in a way he's afraid of putting out there, to say that he would want her to come with him and show him all of these things about her little slice of home--but it would always have to be a hypothetical anyway, he realizes, because they don't come from the same world.
It should have occurred to him sooner, when she's one of the only people he'd wanted to say goodbye to when they thought they'd be freed, but...well. No sense in dwelling. He does, though, reach gently over to skim a hand down her side, wanting to be touching her again. ]
( she leans into that touch, the softest brush of her lips against his and there's perhaps a slight contrast between how she's touching him and what she says. they're both forms of intimacy but both a little different )
[ He gives a quiet little hum of contentment as she kisses him, glad for both of those kinds of intimacy. ]
God, it's been almost a year since I last saw it. I kept trying to go back, you know, before I wound up here, but something would always happen to keep me in New York for another few months and I'd never get around to it.
I miss the weather. Nice, warm, tropical weather. And the food. At least back in Brooklyn I had a good Indian grocery a few blocks away, so I could cook whatever I wanted when I didn't have to feed a picky white guy and a ten-year-old at the same time, but you try finding decent urad dal in Duplicity.
[ This gets a sympathetic murmur, because he's dealt with Cairo heatwave temperatures as well, and he will not mention that Chennai is generally even hotter and would probably agree with her even less.
But he appreciates heat, in both weather and food, and is eager to explain, holding back a smile at her pronunciation. ]
It's a kind of lentil. You can use it for all sorts of things, but if you really want to get South Indian cooking right, you grind it up with rice and ferment it to make batter. And then you can use the batter for idli, these soft fluffy cakes that soak up sauce really well, or dosas, which are a bit like crepes, or paniyaram, which are...dumplings, I guess.
It's sort of my ongoing project here, finding things I can substitute to get as close as I can. I think it's going pretty well, actually.
If you ever want a-- ( she pauses, the word she wants on the tip of her tongue but she can't think of it ) taster I would love to see what you can make.
( she doesn't offer the same in return though that's only because adrienne hasn't been cooking for herself here, typically didn't in new york. she can cook, her mother made certain of that but she didn't enjoy it. with the exception of other people's reactions )
You cooked a lot at home? You mentioned other people.
( a child. she's more gently asking, a little more hesitantly because it can be a more difficult topic to talk about especially if you miss someone )
Oh, I'm cooking you dinner sometime. You can't escape it.
[ He wants to say "you're not getting away without breakfast," but even if they were in his apartment and not hers (and her mysterious dominant's), he'd worry it would be too presumptuous. But dinner, he can promise.
Her instincts are good here, better than his own, because he does deflate just a little at the thought of Matt and Molly--but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to talk about it. ]
And things have changed a bit back home since I was cooking for three, but yes. My little girl, Molly...she always liked my dosas and peanut chutney.
[ He smiles fondly, thinking of her. He's never sure what to call her when he talks about her, really, but he can never bring himself to say anything quite so impersonal as "my ward." ]
Of course, now that she lives with my mother, she gets the original recipe, so she probably won't even want mine anymore once I see her again.
( she's smiling more at this even if her face is pressed a little more into her pillow. she hadn't thought about this side of him, hadn't considered whether he was a parent but hearing that warmth and love from him--
it's making her very carefully consider her response, a pause from her before she does speak )
I would never have told my grandmother this but there were some things of my mother's that I preferred even if the recipe was... imperfect.
( the ingredients not always quite correct or the recipe a little off compared to her grandmother's original one. but it was her taste of home )
[ He doesn't want to think of time passing back home while they're stuck in this godforsaken city, but even if that's not the case, she'll be celebrating her birthday without him or Matt around. At least he knows his mother can be counted on to remember it and stuff her full of kulfi and gulab jamun. ]
But you know, you're right. I hadn't thought of it that way. And I would Americanize it for her a little, tone down the spice and all...not that I really needed to.
[ His smile is proud now, thinking back on how she'd always handled the heat in his cooking with aplomb and sassed Matt about it besides. ]
Well, is there anything I should rule out? Besides a lot of spice? I can just steer clear of anything I know you don't like.
[ He's very earnest about this, settling her close against him and playing idly with her hair. ]
I'd even say it doesn't necessarily have to be Indian, but I've been told that my Italian cooking could get me whacked by the mob, so...probably not that.
There's a list. ( she shakes ger head slightly at herself. this was the side of her allergy that was the most annoying part ) I'm not allergic to any of them just... sensitive. Sometimes. Depending on the day.
( some items she just avoided for the worst of it, some she risked, some were very hard to avoid but weren't that bad. she'd text him the list )
And you have me too curious about your Indian to offer anything else. I want a taste of home. Mildly.
I'll make it work. It's the fun sort of challenge.
[ And it is, really, kind of like a puzzle, figuring out what he can substitute where and still keep the spirit of a dish the same. Cooking has always been a relaxing hobby, and experimenting with it--especially for the benefit of the people he's come to care about, from all their different backgrounds--is part of the appeal. ]
What about a taste of your home, though? Don't you get homesick for anything? Anything edible, I mean.
[ God knows, there's plenty else to be homesick for in a place like Duplicity, but there's not much to be done about most of that. ]
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One parent one language.
( how's the accent now? she'd picked up her mother's sound of sankt gallen in learning german from her, the only accent she'd ever known german in. american sounding otherwise until her language changed )
My mother spoke German with me, my father English, even as a teenager. Though apparently there was a time I refused to speak anything but German.
( she didn't remember it, adrienne young at that point and too much time having passed since )
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[ It makes him laugh, though, picturing it and finding the image endearing no matter how old she'd been. There's something very cute about the notion of Adrienne as a small stubborn child. ]
All right. Say I ever got to go to Switzerland someday. What do you recommend for the first-timers? I'm not sold on the idea of skiing, but I'd try anything else.
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there's a thoughtful hum at his question )
I always loved the Christmas markets. The canton my mother was from always seemed to come alive in a very different way.
( she saw them a lot given that christmas was one of the times she often spent in switzerland )
You'll also just have to accept that our chocolate is better. ( she says it with a full seriousness. she is teasing, everyone has their preference, but she's still stating fact ) It's a very serious thing.
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[ Equally solemn, because chocolate is serious and weighty business and these are, indeed, facts. He might not be a particular fan of cold winter weather, but the idea of sipping the world's best hot chocolate while watching snow fall on a Christmas market in Switzerland is pretty damn enchanting, and he drifts pleasantly for a moment as he pictures it. ]
I always thought it'd be nice to take in a lecture at the University of Geneva. I suppose that's probably not what most people would want to plan a vacation around, but it would be fun.
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( she smiles before continuing, letting herself dip back into her memory )
That is my little slice of home.
( she doesn't say it but if she could she'd make that trip with him )
You absolutely should take the lecture there.
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[ It would have seemed too forward, too intimate in a way he's afraid of putting out there, to say that he would want her to come with him and show him all of these things about her little slice of home--but it would always have to be a hypothetical anyway, he realizes, because they don't come from the same world.
It should have occurred to him sooner, when she's one of the only people he'd wanted to say goodbye to when they thought they'd be freed, but...well. No sense in dwelling. He does, though, reach gently over to skim a hand down her side, wanting to be touching her again. ]
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Tell me about home. Yours.
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God, it's been almost a year since I last saw it. I kept trying to go back, you know, before I wound up here, but something would always happen to keep me in New York for another few months and I'd never get around to it.
I miss the weather. Nice, warm, tropical weather. And the food. At least back in Brooklyn I had a good Indian grocery a few blocks away, so I could cook whatever I wanted when I didn't have to feed a picky white guy and a ten-year-old at the same time, but you try finding decent urad dal in Duplicity.
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The weather was the part of Cairo that didn't agree with me.
( summers in new york were sometimes unbearable for her nevermind the overwhelming heat of egypt )
So I don't think I'd like tropical. ( she pauses a moment, thinking of what the language hadn't translated ) What's urad dal?
( she said it horribly )
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But he appreciates heat, in both weather and food, and is eager to explain, holding back a smile at her pronunciation. ]
It's a kind of lentil. You can use it for all sorts of things, but if you really want to get South Indian cooking right, you grind it up with rice and ferment it to make batter. And then you can use the batter for idli, these soft fluffy cakes that soak up sauce really well, or dosas, which are a bit like crepes, or paniyaram, which are...dumplings, I guess.
It's sort of my ongoing project here, finding things I can substitute to get as close as I can. I think it's going pretty well, actually.
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( she doesn't offer the same in return though that's only because adrienne hasn't been cooking for herself here, typically didn't in new york. she can cook, her mother made certain of that but she didn't enjoy it. with the exception of other people's reactions )
You cooked a lot at home? You mentioned other people.
( a child. she's more gently asking, a little more hesitantly because it can be a more difficult topic to talk about especially if you miss someone )
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[ He wants to say "you're not getting away without breakfast," but even if they were in his apartment and not hers (and her mysterious dominant's), he'd worry it would be too presumptuous. But dinner, he can promise.
Her instincts are good here, better than his own, because he does deflate just a little at the thought of Matt and Molly--but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to talk about it. ]
And things have changed a bit back home since I was cooking for three, but yes. My little girl, Molly...she always liked my dosas and peanut chutney.
[ He smiles fondly, thinking of her. He's never sure what to call her when he talks about her, really, but he can never bring himself to say anything quite so impersonal as "my ward." ]
Of course, now that she lives with my mother, she gets the original recipe, so she probably won't even want mine anymore once I see her again.
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it's making her very carefully consider her response, a pause from her before she does speak )
I would never have told my grandmother this but there were some things of my mother's that I preferred even if the recipe was... imperfect.
( the ingredients not always quite correct or the recipe a little off compared to her grandmother's original one. but it was her taste of home )
She'll still want your cooking. How old is she?
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[ He doesn't want to think of time passing back home while they're stuck in this godforsaken city, but even if that's not the case, she'll be celebrating her birthday without him or Matt around. At least he knows his mother can be counted on to remember it and stuff her full of kulfi and gulab jamun. ]
But you know, you're right. I hadn't thought of it that way. And I would Americanize it for her a little, tone down the spice and all...not that I really needed to.
[ His smile is proud now, thinking back on how she'd always handled the heat in his cooking with aplomb and sassed Matt about it besides. ]
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Will you Americanise it for me?
( her smile's a little more bashful when she looks at him )
Spice is... not my favourite. I want to enjoy your food though.
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I will. It'll be American as apple pie. I'll keep the chilies to the minimum I can get away with, I promise.
[ There will still be chilies, though. But she has his solemn word that he'll do his best. ]
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Thank you.
( whispered, pressing another kiss to him )
I would get you to surprise me with it but... I want to enjoy it so I... need to know what's going in it.
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[ He's very earnest about this, settling her close against him and playing idly with her hair. ]
I'd even say it doesn't necessarily have to be Indian, but I've been told that my Italian cooking could get me whacked by the mob, so...probably not that.
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( some items she just avoided for the worst of it, some she risked, some were very hard to avoid but weren't that bad. she'd text him the list )
And you have me too curious about your Indian to offer anything else. I want a taste of home. Mildly.
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[ And it is, really, kind of like a puzzle, figuring out what he can substitute where and still keep the spirit of a dish the same. Cooking has always been a relaxing hobby, and experimenting with it--especially for the benefit of the people he's come to care about, from all their different backgrounds--is part of the appeal. ]
What about a taste of your home, though? Don't you get homesick for anything? Anything edible, I mean.
[ God knows, there's plenty else to be homesick for in a place like Duplicity, but there's not much to be done about most of that. ]
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My mother taught me a few things but I've never enjoyed cooking that much. Not just for me.
( chocolate was definitely the thing she'd end up missing the most, that little thing to cheer her up when she needed it )
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It never is as fun when it's just for one, is it. Though I guess you can say that about most things.
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( if swiss cheese was at the heart of a dish it made a difference but she would be able to work around it )
If I can find ingredients... maybe. But I haven't looked at what there is yet.