The Things We Bury - Part 1: In Anticipation of the End of the World [Completed]

Chapter 8: Sacrifice (Part 1 of 6)

"You should have ordered the fish.  It is ahh-mazing." Another piece of the branzino glistening with cream sauce disappeared between her lips.

He dragged his steak knife through his meat, carving out a bite of pork.  "Not a fan." 

"Still traumatized from working on that fishing boat?"

"I didn't work on a boat."  R.J. put a drawl of fake irritation into his voice.  She was teasing him—poking fun of his past and possibly his courage.  He could have ignored it, but that wasn't the game.  If he didn't act annoyed, what fun would there be?  "They're much less appealing after stinking like fish for a few years, trust me."

"How's the pork?"  Nikki gestured with her fork like she was planning on piercing a piece and sweeping it away. 

"Good."

"Just good?"

The description on the menu was medallions of Berkshire pork, with hen-of-the-woods mushrooms, in an apple and port wine sauce, hey foam, and crispy pig ear lardons.  Other than the foam it was good.  R.J. simply didn't have the vocabulary to discuss food as she did. 

"Do you want to try some?"

"Absolutely."

She rarely turned down the opportunity to taste his food, especially when her excitement was overflowing like tonight.  They were at a trendy new place on Camelback Road called Gout.  After The Star had given it a glowing review, it had been one of the most desirable and hard to get reservations in town.  This meal was one of the most anticipated dinners they'd eaten yet.

Dating had sent them on a tour of the best restaurants in the area.  R.J. had never thought much about the money the DTAA was paying him, but he had learned to appreciate it once he started seeing Nikki.  The bloated paycheck meant he could afford to take her to all the places she could never imagine going to on her own.

"So what's the verdict?" he asked.  She was in the process of savoring every flavor, rolling the bite across her palate.

"The meat's cooked perfectly—tender still has a good amount of pink.  The mushrooms are wonderfully earthy, but I wish they'd gone with something more local."

"Are there local mushrooms?"

"No.  But he could have used any of several different cacti instead and achieved the same result."  She shook her fork at him and said in a scolding voice, "And don't interrupt."   

"I don't think your branzino is all that local either." R.J. glanced over at her fish with a disapproving frown.

"Well, I have to forgive them some things.  There aren't a whole lot of locally sourced proteins in this part of the country.  Even your little piggy has come a long way."    

"Tell me about it."  R.J. looked down at the meal hiding a sour look and a creased forehead.  Thoughts of pigs being imported into Arizona brought with it the memory of stacks of paperwork.

Nikki didn't seem to notice and continued with her critique.  "Now, stop interrupting.  The sauce is nicely balanced and has a good hit of acid to cut the richness of the pork.  The lardons have great crunch and provide some texture.  But this hay foam is just stupid—who wants to eat fucking hay?  Overall the plate's too busy, but I can't fault the flavor of the main components."

"So good then."  R.J.'s voice radiated his triumph.

A sound of exasperation left Nikki's mouth while she looked up at the ceiling and clutched her cutlery as though holding on for strength.  "Yeah, it's good," she said with an exaggerated sense of defeat.