(no subject)

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Date: January 15, 2000
Setting: Kitchen
Status: Private - Snape and Crowley
Summary: Crowley speaks to the chef

Crowley eyed the remains of the pot roast, steamed vegetables, and mashed potatoes and pushed his plate away, disgusted. He was glad now that Aziraphale had been busy with some kind of top secret angel business and hadn't been able to join him in exploring the Manor's restaurant.

Scraping his chair backwards, he stood up and stormed into the kitchen.

"All right," he said to the room at large. "Who here is responsible for that bloody awful travesty of a meal?"

Comments

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley gave the man a cold stare that projected somehow through his dark glasses.

"I certainly am not offering anything. You are the chef here, though I hesitate to use the term so inaccurately, and it is your responsibility to procure something edible for the restaurant."

Most people that Crowley had talked to in such a way over the centuries would have been in tears or a towering fury right now. This man was clearly annoyed and proud, but no more than that. Puzzled with his attitude, and unable to read his surface desires, which was also unusual, he continued to try and get a reaction.

"I don't have an issue with honest food. I do have an issue with what you're trying to masquerade as honest food. I'll try your Indian, though, provided you stop cooking with horse meat or dog or whatever it is that you just tried to give me. Where did you learn to cook anyway? A foetid back alley in Bangladesh?"

[mortarandpestle.livejournal.com]

"It's hardly my concern that you've assaulted your tongue with so many spices that you can no longer taste the difference between poodle and prime rib. There's more to cooking than finding the most exotic-sounding meat you can find and throwing all of the East Indies at it. I suppose you'd prefer lark's tongues in aspic and swan stewed in garum?"

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"There is nothing wrong with my palette," snarled Crowley. "If used properly, spices add flavour to a dish. Something you clearly wouldn't know anything about."

He took an intimidating step forward.

"I don't eat things only because they're rare or spicy. I eat when I choose to and at those times I expect quality and taste. It's a simple concept. Have you no pride in your work, man?"

[mortarandpestle.livejournal.com]

"If you respected quality and taste you wouldn't be squalling for fussy dainties suitable only for jaded imbeciles with more money than sense. Finding fault with a good roast of the best English beef doesn't make you discerning, it makes you cranky. Like..." he smirked a little, refusing to be cowed, "a child who'd rather have brightly-coloured sweets than a proper meal."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

"Do not condescend to me. Your job is just to heat up ingredients without destroying them. I'm sure that even you could manage after a couple of tries," said Crowley scathingly.

"I don't need to eat proper meals. Therefore I can afford to be choosy. And if people are trying to live on roasts like that it's no wonder that Famine is doing so well in this country lately. I am truly amazed at your ability to take what you call the best English beef and mutilate it by making it charred on the outside and nearly raw on the inside. You know, if your skill level is inadequate, I could show you a couple of simple techniques. Purely for my own sake, you understand."

[mortarandpestle.livejournal.com]

"Are you quite/i> finished with your little display of insulting hyperbole? It makes it entirely impossible to take you seriously." As aggravated as Snape was, he couldn't help but admire the other man's grasp of the English language. And of psychology as well; all too many people would have given up impugning his skill by this point and resorted to criticising his appearance, which would have been immediately dismissable as the act of an imbecile grasping at straws.

He could admire focus.

"If you're going to throw a tantrum over it, I could do an Indian Cuisine night." His voice lowereed to a near-purr. "Especially for you."

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley smiled suddenly. He hadn't been able to successfully tempt anyone in ages, except for Aziraphale who didn't count anymore, and in his victory, he backed down. Perhaps now that he'd worn the man down, his pride could accept some grudging flattery.

"Oh, I could go on quite a while longer, but if you're willing to be reasonable, then I'll stop. Indian Cuisine night sounds tolerable. I just can't stand typical English food, no matter how well cooked it is. Tell me, in all honesty, why do you make it? You don't look like a standard issue hash slinger. A man like you must have been around. Why limit yourself to meat, potatoes, and mushy peas?"

[mortarandpestle.livejournal.com]

"Oh, I'm not a standard issue anything." Snape couldn't help smirking, already mentally going over recipes for dishes spicy enough to blister tongues. "And there's rather more satisfaction in preparing a simple dish perfectly than mucking about with something with so many so-called 'nuances' that the diner isn't certain what they ought to be tasting to begin with and therefore won't notice if you haven't gotten it right."