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FAIRLY FANCY
mom. artist. eater of food. one of those blogging types.
Chicken Cordon Bleu
A delicious French classic, this dish is actually really simple to make. Don't be put off by the name - it's just chicken breast stuffed with ham and cheese (I say 'just' - it's divine!). See pictures, the recipe and - as always - money saving tips below.
∞
It's Magnus who introduces Luke to Fairly Fancy.
He flies in, a whirlwind, twenty minutes late to their book club at Luke's apartment. Greetings and apologies dance out into the air as Magnus then proceeds to drop down in his favourite armchair and regale Luke with the tale of his date the previous evening.
"I mean, it only took him like, half an hour to stop apologising, and my nose had stopped bleeding by that point, so at least the whole evening wasn't wasted." Magnus stops and sighs dramatically, accepting a cup of tea from Luke with a grateful thank you. "Definitely would not recommend eating on the balcony in summer. Too many variables."
Luke snorts into his tea. "Variables? You mean like, arachnophobic dates and flailing hands and sensitive noses?"
Magnus fixes him with a look. "It's not funny," he says.
Luke laughs. "It's pretty funny from where I'm sitting, but don't sound too put out. I'm sure he kissed it better."
Magnus pouts, like he's trying to be annoyed with Luke, but can't quite pull it off. "Yeah, well, you're not the one stuck trying to get blood out of a silk shirt," he says, still aiming for disgruntled. "You owe me now. One date."
"Are you asking me out, Bane?" says Luke, and Magnus smiles.
"In your dreams," Magnus says affectionately. "What I mean is, you owe me the story of one of your not-to-plan dates."
"None of my dates have been awful, because I was there," Luke says immediately, grinning. Magnus picks up his own copy of their set book - not that they ever really get around to discussing the book in at least the first hour of their two-people book club; it's more of a chance for a fortnightly catch up and gossip session - and points it menacingly at Luke.
"Get on it, Garroway," he says, pink sparkly nail polish glittering in the light.
Luke shrugs. "I don't know. I haven't dated in a while."
Magnus puts his book down and picks up his tea cup instead. Over the rim he raises his eyebrows. "What about the woman from the grocery store? You've been going to her till for literally months, you big sap."
Luke just shakes his head, smiling. "If your date went that badly, I hear Suzanna's single, you know," he says.
Magnus sips his tea. "Don't change the subject," he says, "because a) we've been over this: me dating your boss would be bad for both of us, I'd practically become your step-boss, and b) you don't need to worry about my dating life - I'm seeing Alec again on Tuesday. Not even a nearly-broken nose can thwart the course of true love." Magnus pauses, looking Luke up and down thoughtfully. "If you ever do ask out the lovely shop assistant, I can recommend Fairly Fancy."
Luke lifts his eyebrows. "Oh?" He munches on a sugar cube. "What's that?"
"This food blogger," Magnus says. "I used one of her recipes last night. But I can only vouch for her main courses, 'cause I had a much better kind of dessert last night."
Luke closes his eyes briefly. "Is this gonna be an overshare like usual?"
Magnus pretends to deliberate. "I mean, I can wax poetic about the glorious things Alexander can do with his tongue, if you want?"
"Okay, so what were your thoughts on chapter one?"
∞
Usually when Luke gets back from the precinct he's too tired to cook properly, so he'll grab something from the freezer and just heat it up. Weekends are his cooking time - Saturday mornings, actually; after his lie in and before his afternoon coffee with his sister, or an evening at a bar with Alaric and some of their other NYPD buddies. He'll grab his apron ('that's just how I roll', with a picture of a rolling pin, a present from Alaric's little girl) and slip it on, turn up the radio and set out all his pans and dishes and ingredients.
He batch bakes out of necessity but cooks out of love, still soldiering on through one or two teriyaki disasters.
Luke is hit with a sudden reminder of Magnus when a Cher song comes on the radio (turns out, Magnus does believe in love after love, or life after love, or whatever the hell the lyrics are - Luke still isn't sure, and he reckons the rest of the people in that karaoke bar who Magnus crooned/sang/wailed to aren't entirely sure either), so he grabs his tablet computer, pulls up a browser and searches for Fairly Fancy.
The newest hit on her blog is for an Italian recipe, chicken cacciatore. Luke decides to give it a go and cooks up an amazing smelling pot of food. If he belts out 70s songs and dances around the kitchen while he's doing it, well. That's for him to know.
∞
It's Amatis and her girlfriend's gushing compliments about his herb-crusted halibut that spur Luke to comment on one of Fairly Fancy's blog posts.
Luke thanks the blogger for her recipe, and even suggests a tweak or two he'd found when cooking the dish that she might consider. He doesn't expect anything to come of it - she's got quite a big following, so surely she can't have time to reply to everyone? But she sends him a thank you right back with a smiley face (and it includes a nose; Luke knew Magnus was wrong when he said only devils put noses in emoticons, and it's nice to be validated), and Luke can't help feeling warm.
Scrolling back through the blog posts, Luke ascertains that Fairly Fancy started was started so the blogger could advise her college-age daughter about cheap ways to be gourmet while she was away from home, but since then it had grown into a wider platform for her to discuss all things culinary and also to display her artwork.
It's actually a pretty handy guide to adulthood, and it's not like Luke feels guilty. She makes it clear she's writing for everyone. So it's not weird that Luke reads her blog.
Maybe it's a bit weird that he flirts with her over comments? Since the first one, he's started leaving them more regularly, and she often replies in a similarly teasing tone. But Luke still doesn't really know that much about her - she lives in Brooklyn, has a daughter, and a surrogate son who's apparently annoyed that the woman he thinks of as a second mom has a bigger Internet following than he does. Hell, though, maybe it's all a front. Luke doesn't know how much of his friends' teasing he could take if it turned out he was flirting with a bunch of pixels.
∞
The grocery store is quieter than usual for this time of night. There's an old couple ahead of Luke in the aisle arguing about cheese, and a young girl perusing the vegetable section, but apart from that the store is mostly empty. Luke's ticked everything off his grocery list so he heads over to the checkouts, and definitely does not deliberately pick the lane with the beautiful redheaded woman serving.
"Hey," he says to her, nodding.
She flashes him a smile. "Hey," she says, starting to scan his items. "Back again?"
He shrugs easily. "I think fresh stuff is the best," he says honestly, and she nods.
"A man after my own heart," she says, still smiling. She's really very pretty - red-brown waves framing her face; sparkling eyes. "I actually know a recipe for some of these things - pancetta, asparagus."
"It goes great with pasta, right?" Luke says, bagging his items. "I'd love to claim credit, but I saw it online."
The server hums. "Maybe you could send me the link at some point?" she asks. She seems to be lingering as she scans the final items, and Luke can't help but wonder if that means something.
He holds his hands out in an open gesture. "Sure," he says, giving her a warm smile. "Have you got a pen so I can write your contact down?"
The server hands him a pen she has in a pot by her till. "Here," she says, then recites her phone number. "Can I get yours too? So I know who you are when you text me."
Luke can't help grinning. "You give your number out to lots of strange men in the workplace?"
"Only the cute ones," she laughs, taking her pen back and holding it poised to write.
As he gathers up his back and double checks he picked up his wallet, he notices the server herself is getting ready to leave. He cocks his head at her.
"My shift ends now," she says in answer to his unspoken question.
Luke nods. "Are you okay getting home?" he asks.
She smiles. "I'm fine. My daughter said she'd swing by and pick me up on the way to her girlfriend's, but thank you."
"Just doing my duty," Luke quips. "I have to make sure all the citizens of New York are safe."
She raises an eyebrow. "You're a cop?"
"With the 97th," Luke tells her. "I realise now I kinda made it sound like I'm some sort of superhero slash vigilante, which was possibly the wrong impression."
The server laughs and flips her hair over her shoulder. "I don't know," she shrugs, walking backwards from the till so she can keep her eyes on him, "some women like the whole 'saving people' thing."
"Really?" Luke's lips twitch. "You wouldn't happen to know any of them, would you?"
And honest to God, the server winks at him before she disappears through a door marked Employees Only, and Luke nearly trips over his foot on his way out of the store.
∞
In a very non-creepy way, Luke makes sure to glance at the server's name-tag next time he's at her checkout.
Jocelyn. It's a good name. It suits her.
"So," Jocelyn says, as he adds his items to the conveyor belt, "you have my number."
Luke winces. "I do," he says. "And I have a triple homicide to investigate. Don't take this the wrong way, but..."
Jocelyn's expression turns somewhat horrified. "Shit," she says softly.
"Yeah," says Luke. He points at a tub of Ben & Jerry's on the checkout. "Hence the ice cream."
Jocelyn nods. "I get it." She glances down, and when she looks back at him, she's smiling slightly. "Cookie dough is my favourite, so I was gonna jokingly ask myself round to yours, but I feel like that's maybe not appropriate now."
Luke's heart skips and he swallows before answering. "And if I said I'd appreciate the company?"
He doesn't get to hear Jocelyn's reply, because the man behind him decides to share his opinion on the store's queueing time at that very moment. Luke swivels to him, and only at the last moment does he realise both he and Jocelyn are giving the man identical death glares.
∞
From: [Magnus]
12:56 Wait, wait. Let me get this right. You have a date with the grocery store woman and you didn't tell me???!!!!
To: [Magnus]
12.59 You're the one who was late to book club this week. We do eventually have to get around to discussing the book
From: [Magnus]
13:01 Oh, and luckily for you that means we avoid talking about your love life. I SEE HOW IT IS
To: [Magnus]
13:03 :-)
From: [Magnus]
13:03 * :)
13:04 Anyway, I hope you know I'm changing your contact name to Luke Game-oway. Because you have game. Because you have a date. (!!!!)
To: [Magnus]
13:06 Terrible pun but I appreciate it. I'm gonna wear the dark purple shirt you got me, what do you think?
From: [Magnus]
13:07 You'll look smokin'
13:08 Good luck!!!
∞
Jocelyn arrives at Luke's apartment about ten minutes early, which means he's still in the process of giving himself the once-over in the mirror when the door buzzer goes. He rushes to the to let her up, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. He'd almost rather be interviewing a hardened criminal than facing her, just because she makes his tummy fluttery and he really wants it to go well. At the last minute he remembers to turn the CD player on, just to add some low mood music in the background.
The thing is, they don't really know each other. They've talked, sure, over the conveyor belt at the grocery store, but it's not been much. And now she's here. On a date. With Luke.
His heart skips as he answers the door. This could be something.
Jocelyn greets him with a warm, wide smile. She looks lovely, wearing a teal wrap-around dress and light make-up.
"Hi," Luke says, also smiling. "Glad you found it okay."
"Of course," Jocelyn says, and Luke steps back to let her in. She hands him a bottle of white wine. "This is for you, to say thank you for hosting."
Luke - more of a cider man himself - takes it from her, looks at the label and pretends like he knows a lot of interesting things about wine. If only Fairly Fancy had written a post about good wines for first dates. He nods convincingly.
"Thanks," he says, "it looks like wine."
Jocelyn pauses for a moment as his words register, and then she breaks into peals of laughter. Luke chuckles, pleased that the initial awkwardness of any arrival has dissipated, and offers to take her coat.
She asks about his work as they make their way through to the kitchen. Usually, Luke would suggest that they stay in the lounge and have a drink, but Jocelyn had insisted on cooking. Apparently, it was something of a forte, and since they were using Luke's place as a venue, she said it was the least she could do. Luke tells her about one of the fraud cases that he's working as he gets out chopping boards and saucepans, and Jocelyn unloads her bag of ingredients.
Luke can't resist peeking.
"Ooh, what are we making?"
Jocelyn glances at him. "I am making you saltimbocca alla Romana," she tells him.
Luke hums. "I've not eaten veal before."
"I'm impressed," Jocelyn says, smiling at him. "Did you take Italian in high school?"
Luke shrugs. "Caught me red handed," he grins.
Jocelyn turns to look over her shoulder and lifts an eyebrow. "So, we'll be needing your handcuffs tonight?" she asks, eyes sparkling, and Luke can't do anything but blink at her for a minute.
"Uh," he says, then finally manages, "if I play my cards right," in some kind of resemblance of his usual suave self. "Anyway, no, I didn't take Italian. I just follow this food blog, and she wrote about saltimbocca on her latest post. It's weird, actually, cause she said she was making it for her date tonight..." Luke trails off, watching Jocelyn closely. She turns to him, lips parted slightly and eyes wide.
"What?" she breathes out.
Luke's eyes dart between the counter top and Jocelyn. "Oh my god," he laughs. "You're Fairly Fancy!"
Jocelyn takes a step closer to him and half-nods, offers him a blinding grin. "I've had better compliments," she teases, and Luke moves towards her.
"I don't doubt it," he says, catching her chin with his fingers and tenderly stroking along her jaw with his thumb. He smiles at her. "But I can't give you anymore until I've actually tried some of this gourmet food."
Jocelyn smiles back. "Not even a pre-game compliment to set the mood?"
"Too much pressure," Luke says, "and besides, I can't make a statement without evidence. Goes against my training."
Jocelyn laughs. "Better make a good impression, then."
Luke grabs a corkscrew from one of the drawers. "Dont' worry about it, I've got a takeaway on speed dial in case everything goes to pot," he teases. "Are you sure I can't do anything?"
Jocelyn narrows her eyes at him, then hands him a white bulb. "You're on garlic duty."
Luke takes it from her, their fingers brushing. They stand side by side at the counter, chopping up ingredients. Jocelyn is just about touching him, their feet nudged together and her hip occasionally knocking his. The comfortable silence between them is filled with mellow jazz emanating from the CD player in the living room, and the night looks set to be spectacular.
∞
Luke insists on walking Jocelyn home - how it got to be one in the morning, neither of them know, but once the conversation started flowing it just didn't stop.
Jocelyn told him all about her daughter, Clary, who she says would already love to meet Luke, and would he be free to meet for coffee with the two of them next week? She tells him about Simon, Clary's best friend, the surrogate son she mentioned on her blog. Then there's Dot, who she's mentoring through her art business, who Luke actually knows - turns out they've been one person removed from each other all this time, and never even knew.
At one point in the evening he realises they're very close to each other on the couch. Jocelyn's leaning into him, fingers twirling around the stem of her wine glass, and he catches her eye.
"Can I -?" he asks, and she's already kissing him before he can finish the question. Then she almost immediately pulls back.
"Sorry, were you gonna ask something else? Oh, God, I feel really bad now, I -" she breaks off, eyes meeting Luke's again.
He grins at her, a slow smile spreading across his face. His heart is racing and he can't remember having a first date this good in forever.
"Can I kiss you," he repeats, "again?"
Jocelyn practically lights up with happiness.
∞
It's almost a year to the day of their first date, and Luke still checks Fairly Fancy on a regular basis. Of course, now, he gets to be the sounding board for all of Jocelyn's posts, so it's not like he's seeing much new stuff - once or twice he's even become the voice behind the blog when she's been too busy to do it. The trust she has in his warms him from the inside.
They're cuddled in bed now, both only half-watching something on the TV. Jocelyn's attention is on her tablet computer; Luke's is on Jocelyn. He watches as she edits her blog header information.
FAIRLY FANCY
mom. fiancée. artist. eater of food. one of those blogging types.
As soon as she's saved the changes, she leans up to kiss him. It's lazy and soft and both of them are kind of smiling too much for it to go anywhere, but that's okay. It feels like home.