Linguini From Ratatouille Novels & Stories

My stomach growled in yearning. Lorenzo's gaze reverted to my face. "I take it you haven't had anything since today." It was not a question, just a statement, but still I answered, "Yeah." Opening the dish I felt my mouth water. "What is this?" I asked, looking at a dish in one of the many placed in front of me, a little rocket salad was placed against a backdrop of tomato peels, purée and eggs. "That's tomato consomme and smoked ricotta tortelli," he answered. I did not even have it in me to feel dumb over not knowing the name of the delicacy; I was too hungry for that.

He had been away from the house all day, and I had heard from Lola that he was busy with lots of meetings. "Thank you," I said. "Have you been working all day?" "You don't want to hear about that," he said, waving a hand at me. Lola brought our food in and set it down in front of us, and I tried my best to act as usual. "Wow," Soren said. "I can't remember the last time I had linguini with clam sauce. This is one of my favorite dishes, but the chef doesn't like to make it." I couldn't think of anything to say in response to that, so I took a bite, hiding my smile behind my fork.

He pushed the bottle into my hands and turned back to the spaghetti, but no words left his mouth as he stared at what he must have thought to be an abomination. "But this is the best." I couldn't even argue properly as I tried to control my laughter. He placed his hands on his temple and stared at me in incredulity. "Who is going to eat this?" He returned to the fridge and brought two packaged cheese slices while muttering, "Perché? Perché? Perché?" “This isAglio e Olio. It's without sauce. This isparmigiano, and this ispecorina. You can put whatever you want, but this is not..." After gesturing toward my plate, he turned back to me with a frustrated look.

The tiny pearl onions shone like jewels against the dark glaze. Kelsey’s ratatouille looked like art — thin slices of zucchini, eggplant, and tomato arranged in a perfect spiral, the colors glowing against the white plate. And mine — the steak — came seared to perfection, the peppercorn crust fragrant and glossy under a thin drizzle of cognac sauce. The fries were golden and crisp, stacked like soldiers beside the meat. I cut into the steak and took the first bite. The flavor hit instantly — pepper, butter, smoke. I let out a low, involuntary sound, half a groan.

He smiled with his thick french accent betraying his nice english tie. We returned his smile as he walked away. The food was beautiful, almost too beautiful to eat. Emily’s dish, a delicate plate of ratatouille, shimmered under the soft light. Thin slices of zucchini, eggplant, and tomato were artfully arranged in a spiral, all resting in a pool of vibrant tomato sauce. My own plate held a simple but elegant coq au vin. The chicken was slow-cooked in a rich red wine sauce, the tender meat falling off the bone, served alongside buttery mashed potatoes and crisp green beans.

“This place is very beautiful. I never thought it would look so pleasing. From the outside, it looked … simple. For a minute I thought I was in the wrong place.” “Well, that’s why it’s called ne juge pa. Do not judge” A waitress came over. “Can I take your orders?” she asked. I picked up the menu and frowned. “Soupe ? l’oignon. Cassoulet. Rat- Ratatouille. Rat! They serve rats?” I whispered to Prince . He bit his bottom lips and smiled. “Two Coq au vin, the flamiche, salade nicoise, crepes, a fruit tart and chocolate souffle with a bottle of red wine” he says to the waitress. When she walked off, I spoke.

PLEASURE Madonna's Pov "Is that Russian food?," I asked before I could stop myself. Oliver barked out a laugh and looked up from the pot of boiling water to glance at me over his shoulder. "No it's not" "It's a rather simple dish, actually. It just sounds fancy." I listened to him as l sat on the one of the stools at the kitchen island to watch him as he cooked. "Garlic, olive oil, parsley and Parmigiano_ reggiano tossed with angel hair pasta.... It's Italian and so simple to cook", He spoke.

I licked my bottom lip in anticipation. “This is Fettuccine al Pomodoro, Ravioli, Tortellini, and Ancelotti and Spaghetti carbonara.” He softly introduces the mouth watery meal, flashing me a smile as he spoke. I return the gesture with a genuine smile. “And for dessert, we have the doughnut with cream fillings and chocolate toppings.”He added. “My God, how did you know I've been craving doughnuts, you are such a sweetheart.” I moan in satisfaction.

“It seems important.” “No, it isn't that important.” she said as she turned her ringer off. I smirked and leaned back as I observed her closely. She seemed to lose half the confidence she had before. Interesting. The main course came in a couple minutes later along with their exclusive fromage from France. I had ordered a Boeuf Bourguignon which was a fresh beef richly cooked in red wine along with potatoes. Along with a Ratatouille and some Foie Gras. Sienna seemed to liven up with the dishes as she smiled before helping herself to it.

Aunty Ely said filled with enthusiasm as she stood up to greet us. She hugged and kissed mom and Clea while I recieved a "Hello" and a quick hug. I bowed to show respect to Uncle Arnold. I sat next to Clea. I placed the napkin they provided on my lap. They started serving the foods. My eyes widened in fractions and my jaws were slightly dropped the moment I saw what they were serving. Louis XIII Pizza. Lobster Frittata. Bluefin Tuna. Cranberry-Blue Cheese Balls. And some dishes I couldn't even name. Quel's eyes met mine. He winked and pointed at the White Truffles. He winked at me. My f*cking favorite.