The Grande Tour ( Leroux Christine )

[Christine Daaé]

"Yes, stoves powered by gas," she said. "I haven't seen very many of them, as they are very new, but I suppose that it's a possibility." The only time she had really seen one was the house on the lake, though Mamma Valérius had been considering getting one for some time now. Though there was really no point at the moment, as she would be leaving the flat on the Rue Notre Dame des Victoires coming with Raoul and Christine when they left Paris.

"Actually, I am quite fond of Italian food, but it is Friday and we are in Lent, so no red meats. And garlic was what I decided to give for Lent this year..." Christine raised an eyebrow when he pulled the can out of the cupboard. " I do... I'm Swedish; it would almost be sacrilegious if I didn't like fish. But canned tuna?" The idea of such a thing sounded quite odd. Why would anyone want to can a tuna? And that can looks much smaller than a tuna...

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

“Powered by gas? How peculiar…” He had never heard of anything of the sort. Normally he would ask her if she was quite sure, but he was fairly certain that she had more knowledge of the subject than he did, so he did not doubt what she had said. If she thought it was a gas stove, then that was probably what it was, however alien he found the concept. “A lot of this house seems…new—or foreign, rather. Look at all these strange machines—I could not name all of them if I tried.” Of course some of that could have been attributed to his lack of knowledge around the kitchen, but some of these items he hadn’t so much had seen before coming here.

“Ah, yes, that’s right! I almost forgot. I did forget…” he muttered, feeling like a schoolboy that had just gotten caught in stealing a cookie. He had not thought about the fact that it was Lent—he had just had bacon with his breakfast that morning. Although he was a Catholic, and he went to mass regularly and donated money to the Church, this was just one example of how he didn’t practice his faith all of the time. He did not even have his rosary with him—he was always forgetting it places, so he usually kept it in a drawer, and only prayed when he remembered…which was not often enough. Yet another thing to add when I go to confession.. “Of course, how could I forget?” he answered with a laugh when she insisted that she loved fish. “And we French do as well…hence you can see why, Mademoiselle, it is so difficult to be a good Catholic during Lent…” he trailed off, his azure eyes drifting off to the icebox before he shook his head. “But tuna it is.”

[Christine Daaé]

"I cannot say I've seen them either... I've only seen gas stoves twice before, but neither of them looked like this... " Christine glances about the appliances curiously and reached a hand out to touch one of the buttons on a machine that looked like a carafe with a fitted lid, sitting on a black stand. She hesitated for a moment, but pressed the button and there was suddenly a loud noise and a quick spinning blade from inside of the carafe. It gave her suck a fright, that she cried out and swiftly drew her hand away, falling back onto the ground. She certainly was not expecting something so terrifying from such an innocent looking machine...

She sat there, trembling, still in shock, unable to respond to the rest of his comments about Lent, and about meat, and about tuna.... She was completely in shock, sitting there on the ground, unable to do a thing.

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

Raoul nodded and tilted his head at the appliance. “Gas stoves…” Maybe he would get one once he set up his estate in Italy to make things easier for the chef. This one did seem to work faster, as it did not take nearly as long for his food to be prepared. He opened the cabinet again in search of vegetables. This kitchen seemed to have an abundance of green vegetables. “How about peas with the tuna? Do you like peas?” he asked, turning around. He flinched slightly when the odd machine that resembled a carafe except with buttons and a cord started making noise. It sounded like something was spinning.

However he was too busy observing her reaction to investigate. Without thinking, he began to laugh unabashedly—not an unkind laugh, but amused, like a child. He walked over the appliance and hit one of the buttons, which seemed to turn it off, before reaching down for Christine’s hand. “Are you alright, Mademoiselle?” he asked, still trying not to laugh, an tickled smile still firmly set upon his face. “I told you this place was strange, did I not?” he added in a matter-of-fact way. His chuckling did eventually stop and he then asked, “Honestly, though, are you alright?”

[Christine Daaé]

"I... I think so," she girl said, obviously shaken. She hesitated, but took his hand. "I don't generally mind peas. They seem as good a vegetable as any I suppose..." They certainly weren't her favorite of vegetables, but she didn't have a particular distaste for them either. When Criada (the maid in the home of her Mamma Valérius) made them, she actually enjoyed them quite a bit. Criada was a fantastic cook. Erik made them fairly well as well, though his specialties was mostly meats and fish, not vegetables. Actually, his prawns were fantastic, but that was beside the point...

"Yes," she continued. "Yes, quite odd" Though not beyond Erik's sick, twisted mind to create... A man who had his own torture chamber, which he had made to resemble an African forest, built into his home was certainly not beyond all of these strange and modern machines. After all, he was a genius! A twisted, diabolical, eccentric genius, but a genius nonetheless. Now that she thought about it, he had probably invented all of these strange appliances himself...

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

“Are you sure?” he asked, surprised at how dazed she looked. He had been surprised of course when he had used it as well, but he had merely jumped and recovered a few seconds later. He almost felt bad for laughing at her, but he was not going to say that. “That’s good. I don’t even think I have a favorite vegetable…maybe carrots?” Carrots were one of the only vegetables that he could tolerate growing up. He had given his governess quite a difficult time with eating them, and only when he grew older did he realize their apparent importance.

“I think we can manage though…I am glad to say this place does have tea…” There were cold drinks in the icebox too—different flavored juices and also these fizzy drinks that reminded him of alcohol but according to the label did not contain any. He still preferred tea to the colder drinks. Sometimes he would have lemonade, but as a general rule in the mornings and the evenings he would have tea with his meals. It was the same at home—he never drank coffee. After drinking it in the navy he had grown sick of it. He despised its taste. He felt the same about alcohol—the smell, the taste were both abhorrent to him. His brother had been the one to introduce him to it, and although he had laughed at his disgust Raoul was determined to avoid imbibing it as often as he could. When he entered the Marine Nationale he had come into contact with several colleagues who practically worshipped rum. He eventually gave in to pressure and tried it…and ended up getting drunk. This resulted in his waking up the next morning in a storage room having no idea what had happened until one of his friends explained to him that he had gotten drunk and sung an aria from Romeo et Juliet in full view of the entire crew. His friend had commented on his singing ability but he denied it and made him swear not to let news of the incident leave the ship.

He dug around in a cabinet and found some mint tea as well as Earl Grey. “Which one would you prefer?” he enquired, holding up the two boxes. What was strange about the tea was that it was contained in a bag. Still, when made, it tasted the same.

[Christine Daaé]

Christine nodded, pressing a hand it her heart and taking deep breaths. She had never been one for things popping out at her, and such a sudden, loud noise from a strange yes seemingly innocent-looking machine had given her quite a start to say the very least. She managed to answer his comment about the vegetables though. “Carrots are quite nice. I haven't had them very often as of recent though.” It was true. Though she had not the slightest idea as to why, Erik always seemed to avoid putting carrots into any of the dishes he made. Though she would never admit it out lout, Erik was actually quite the cook. His prawns were especially exceptional. Christine loved prawns – they reminded her of her homeland – and Erik could make them better than anyone else she knew... Although all this thinking of food was only making her even more hungry...

“Oh, I know,” she said in regard to his comment about the tea. “Another woman and I shared some earlier. There was a hint of black currant in it, I believe... As to which of those teas however, I believe think that mint shall do. I am not very fond of Earl Grey, although I do quite like teas.” Once, in the house on the lake, Erik had allowed her to try some of his ore exotic teas from the far east. Green teas with a lightly sweet citrus flavor, rare white teas with a smooth body, full and robust oolongs with a silvery color to them... They had been lovely teas, though knowing their rarity in the Western world, she doubted she'd taste them again soon.

Christine had been glancing about the kitchen after finally having recovered from the incident with the spinning carafe. It was quite a curious place. But on one of the shelves, she spotted a few boxes, so she went to have a closer look. They were all brightly colored with different pictures of food on them. She shifted through a few of the boxes, looking at their pictures. Most of the boxes were in English. She only knew a little bit of English, and could read even less of it, so she didn't bother trying to sound out all of the words. She stopped though when she found a bright yellow box with a picture of some sort of pasta on it. Out of everything on the box, there was only one word she recognized: TUNA. Leave it to the little Swedish girl, of course, to only recognize the word that was a type of fish. Intrigued by the idea of tuna from a box, Christine stretched up to reach the box and brought it over to Raoul, who was still standing where they had found the tea and tuna. “What is this?” Christine asked as she brought the box up to him, hoping that his English was much better than hers. His accent sounded a bit English, so hopefully he would be of some help.

((because I thought that you could use some visual aid... XD ))

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

“Alright.” He glanced at her once last time when she indicated she was alright before looking away. “You haven’t?” he asked in surprise when she stated that she had not eaten any carrots lately. “I think there are some carrots somewhere in the icebox…would you like to try those instead of the peas? Or we could have them on the side with the peas…” He did not know how he could possibly be of help with the carrots if they did, as he had close to zero cooking skills. However preparing canned peas was simple enough, as he had actually done it before.

“You don’t like Earl Grey? Who doesn’t?” he questioned in puzzlement as he returned the Earl Grey to the cabinet. “I absolutely love Earl Grey…it’s much better than coffee.” His love of Earl Grey and tea in general was probably attributed to the fact that the governess who had raised him was British, and she had taught him how to speak English. Thus he had developed an English accent, which had been noticed by his brother. As a result the older man often made fun of him because of his accent. He had learned to ignore it, though sometimes he would consequentially insult him in English, which Philippe could not understand nearly as well as he could.

“Mint it is, then.” He placed the Earl Grey back in the cabinet and filled the teapot with water, placing it on the strange stove and turning it on so that it could boil. “I do like mint, though. The first time I tried it was when I went to Morroco when I was still a seaman. I thought it was delicious.” He watched as she walked over to another shelf. When she came back, it was with a colorful box with a picture of pasta and tuna covered with cheese. He took the box when she asked him what it said and read aloud, “Kraft Velveeta Cheesy Skillets Dish…Tuna Melt…it seems that it is some sort of pasta dish with tuna and vegetables. It certainly sounds delectable—do you think we could have it?”

[Christine Daaé]

“Carrots sounds lovely, actually,” Christine said. She had peas quite often, but carrots were almost a rarity ever since Erik... “You say that the carrots are in the icebox?”

Christine folded her arms when he made the comment about 'who doesn't like Earl Grey'. “Well, I don't like Earl Grey. For black teas, I prefer an Irish Breakfast tea, of Black Ceylon or...” Christine stopped for a moment to try to remember how the tea was pronounced. “Oo-long... Although I will admit, I do like Earl Grey blended with raspberries. I am quite fond of raspberries...”

“You have been to Morocco?” Christine asked with curiosity. She had only tried mint tea in the house on the lake. The prospect of traveling interested her quite a bit. It was something she often asked Raoul (her fiancé Raoul) to tell her about. All of the different places he had been to in the navy... She had not been outside of France since she and her father had moved there with Professor and 'Mamma' Valérius. And even before that, the only country she had ever been to was her homeland, Sweden. “What was Morocco like? Is it very different from Paris? I remember my fiancé telling me once that it was quite warm there... And yes, I see no problem with that. It sounds much more appetizing that straight fish from a can... but is there garlic in it?”

((Yes, there is garlic, but we're going to pretend that there isn't, and he's going to have to tell her eventually that he cannot cook XDD ))

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

He nodded. “Second shelf on from the top on the right, there.” At her response to his question, he rolled his eyes. “Besides you. I like Irish Breakfast Tea as well, black teas are alright…I would have to say my favorite aside from Earl Grey is peach. I don’t really mind raspberries, but I prefer cherries. I usually take my tea with milk or lemon, though.”

He nodded. “My first voyage was to Morocco and we were ashore for a week. It is very hot there, especially in a Marine Nationale sailor’s uniform, but I felt worse for the officers as their coats are made out of wool, and, well you can imagine wool in that sort of weather. Imagine the hottest summer in Paris and multiple that by one hundred and that is a typical day in Morocco. It hardly ever rains, or at least it didn’t when I was there. It was very sandy…the music was beautiful though—quite different, but beautiful nonetheless. There were so many street performers and singers and dancers who would come out each day and play for coins. There were storytellers and acrobats…and I do remember going to one of the marketplaces and seeing so many exotic animals—monkeys, camels, parrots. Tell me, have you read the classic Les Mille et Une Nuits? That was what it was like almost…a scene right out of the Arabian Nights.” He nodded when she said that it sounded better than just fish from the can. “Much better…hmm.” He scanned the ingredients list, coming across many items he had not even heard of, but none of them were garlic. “We are in luck, Mademoiselle, there is no garlic in this dish.” he concluded happily with a grin. “So do you want to try it?”

( OOC: Oh, he will XD. )

[Christine Daaé]

Christine went toward the strange, large, metallic, double-door thing in the direction that the man had nodded. It slightly resembled the iceboxes she had seen before, but was much larger... When she opened it, she found that the thing lit up from within. How very convenient... she thought to herself. The carrots were right where he had said they would be – second shelf from the top, on the right – but were concealed within a plastic bad of sorts. Odd she thought to herself. Who would want to put fresh vegetables within bags made of plastic...

Christine wanted to inform him that Irish Breakfast and Earl Grey were black teas, but she decided against it, as the matter would most likely only cause bickering between the two of them once again. “Peaches are quite lovely,” she decided to say instead. “And I do also like cherries, though they are not my favorites... say, while we are on the topic of fruits, have you ever had lingon?” Of course, she had grown up with the small red berry native to Sweden, so they were a flavor with which she had grown quite accustomed too. However, she found that many people she met had never even heard of the things...

She listened intently as he told of his voyage to Morocco. She had always loved hearing stories, ever since she was a little child, and stories of far off places were some of her favorites. She had mentioned to Raoul (her fiancé) a few times that traveling to see the world was something she had wanted to do, though she wasn't sure that they would be able to with a price on Raoul's head... Granted, she didn't mind. To spend an eternity with him was more than she could ever hope to ask for. It was the greatest adventure of all...

“I began reading it once, though I never finished... You say there is no garlic in it? Well that is certainly a good thing. Yes, I believe so. It sounds fascinating... And it is a very nice picture on the box.” It was true! It was a nice picture which is what had initially drawn her to it. Otherwise, she would not have even attempted to read any of the English that was written on the box.

((XDDD Poor Hadders is going to have to swallow his pride and admit he can't do something ))

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

His face brightened when she mentioned lingon. “Indeed I have—Christine was the one who introduced it to me, actually—when we were children.” he stated, smiling as he recalled the memory. She had described the fruit to him once when she was telling him about Sweden, and his curiosity had been so piqued that he had gotten Philippe to import some of the berries to the chateau. He had greatly enjoyed them, and he remembered having some the night prior to his leaving for the gala with his tea, reminded briefly of his childhood friend. “They are quite good.”

“It is a nice picture.” he agreed, taking another glance at the box. His eyes then returned to the picture again in shock as he tilted his head to the side. “Wait a minute…it’s like no picture I’ve seen before—I daresay it’s a photograph of some sort…but in color?” Fancy that… he thought in wonder, shaking his head. Redirecting his attention to the tea, he leaned up against one of the counters and crossed his arms. “Er…Mademoiselle? I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do to help with this meal aside from well, the tea since I’m not exactly well versed in this sort of thing…cooking that is.” he explained embarrassedly, straightening his tie at various intervals during his confession.

[Christine Daaé]

Christine nodded, smiling. “They are, aren't they? Tart and tangy, yet a hint of sweetness all at once. Mamma's cook makes them with crêpes every Thursday for dinner...” And then her smile faded a little. She wondered how Mamma was holding up with her missing again. The poor old woman's health was hanging by a thread as it was and she did not need to be dealing with all of this extra stress on top of it.

“You have never seen a photograph in color, Monsieur?” she asked when he made this comment. “I have seen some on a few rare occasions, as they are not very common, but never with colors as bright as these... perhaps it is just a very realistic printing?”

Christine turned to him when he addressed her, and couldn't help but to stifle a bit of laughter at his confession. “You mean to tell me that you've never cooked before?... Well, I'm sorry, Monsieur, but... I don't know nearly enough English to be able to read through all of the directions.... Umm... I can still make carrots though.”

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

“That sounds delicious. The last time I had them was oh…about a week ago, I suppose.” That sounded about right…it had been no more than two weeks, of that he was certain. Still he was determined to take even more meticulous notes of the time from now on. “I actually enjoy having it after my dinner, with my dessert…sometimes just by themselves, other times mixed with other fruits like blueberries…I do prefer the lingon though.”

“No…because up until today I have believed that there is no such thing…unless this is painted over somehow—or printed over, like you said. But an actual photograph taken in color…no I have never seen one. You have, Mademoiselle?” he asked in confusion, looking over at her.

“I…well, besides making sandwiches and boiling canned goods no, no I haven’t really. I haven’t had to because there’s always been a cook or a chef at my estate…” he trailed off uncomfortably. It was a common skill that he did not possess because he had been simply put—pampered all his life. That was partially why he had so wanted to join the Navy, to experience life as a normal person could. While of course he appreciated and enjoyed his status immensely, there were several drawbacks—such as Philippe’s constant reminding that it was not proper for him to ‘have affection for a chorus girl’. “Well, what if I translated the directions and you made the tuna?”

[Christine Daaé]

“I have seen a photograph with colors, yes, though I am not sure it it was initially take that way. I do not know enough about photography, I am afraid, to be able to give you a straight answer on the subject matter... Sorry, Monsieur...” She shrugged a bit awkwardly.

“I think I could make it if you translated. Though it might take a while to learn how to use that...” She pointed at the stove. “And I haven't cooked in a while. After I started at the opera, Mamma hired a cook to work around the kitchen, as she cannot do so herself since the poor old woman lost use of her legs... I could give it a try though. Assuming it's not too terribly complicated.”