Third Course: Whole Poached Fish




Be gentle... you needn’t add anything to draw out their subtle flavors. You only have to take them out of their environment and pack them in salt and light heat.


“I think she likes you.” Liam almost-shouted across the VIP booth. A lifetime of nights in places with table service and women who could calculate your net worth within a quid had trained him to be heard while he spoke in a normal voice.


Mr. (no title) George, the Director of Loans Coordination at the British Museum didn’t seem to hear Liam, but he behaved as Liam wanted. Every time a girl poured a round of vodka for the table and touched his wrist, the Director pretended he’d been coming to clubs all his life.


“You must meet the DJ!” Liam grabbed Mister George’s arm and pulled him out of the safety of the VIP table and directly into the crowd. “Street art is the future!”


Liam waited until they were well within the crowd and then disappeared.


Twenty minutes later, a blank-eyed Mister George found him near the vestibule. Liam welcomed him warmly, a big hug that was (hopefully) just shy of making Mister George vomit.


“Aight there, mate. These places are too much, let’s sober up a bit and come back down. Think about the most boring thing. Something from work- like art. ...Sit down over here, car is coming. Boring, um... oh! religious crap. Who likes that stuff? You remember that icon?”



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