Culinary Librarian - 2 - Dinner Service, American Style

Happy only-a-few-days-until-Thanksgiving to all of you who celebrate! Writing about holiday meals never gets old for me. 

Enjoy the new chapter, and don't forget to vote in the poll that ends on November 30! Here's some handy links to Part 1 of the poll, and Part 2. Thank you to everyone who's voted so far! It's been really interesting seeing what people want me to revisit.

The three stories that are currently in the lead are Day 24's Bratty/Spoiled Feedee, Day 4's Kidnapped, and Day 30/31: Costumes & Size Difference. As a reminder, the top three stories in the poll will be rewritten with gender-swapped characters, and possibly all-new characters depending on what all of you are interested in seeing. If you're hoping for something specific (i.e. an F/F story becoming M/M, NB/NB, or M/F), drop a comment and let me know! If you feel weird about commenting publicly, no worries--you can always message me privately here or on deviantart.

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Dinner Service—American Style—And Bill of Fare (Dinner Service à l’Américaine et le Menu)

The success of a dinner depends upon good cooking, the manner in which it is served, and especially on entertaining congenial guests…

-The Epicurean: A Complete Treatise of Analytical and Practical Studies on the Culinary Art, Including Table and Wine Service, How to Prepare and Cook Dishes, an Index for Marketing, a Great Variety of Bills of Fare for Breakfasts, Luncheons, Dinners, Suppers, Ambigus, Buffets, etc., and a Selection of Interesting Bills of Fare of Delmonico’s. from 1862 to 1894. Making a Franco-American Culinary Encyclopedia by Charles Ranhofer, Former Chef of Delmonico's, 1920 Edition

It was obvious to anyone who looked that the past semester had really done a number on Sonya. She was clearly pouring everything she had into her work. Without any additional support from the university, it was clear her ability to handle the mammoth task of singlehandedly managing the archives was beginning to fray. She hadn’t slipped in her work, but there were subtle signs that she was overburdened. There was a softening in her posture, as if she was too tired to stand or sit at her full height. The complex nail art on her fingertips was absent, her fingernails instead adorned only with one shade at a time.

Magnolia had also picked up on the fact that Sonya was putting on weight. It wasn’t a lot, not really, and given Sonya’s natural exaggerated figure it was difficult to spot. There was a little extra width to her hips, though, and her tops seemed to be fighting a losing battle to contain her growing chest.

Magnolia had always known Sonya to be impeccably dressed, every item of clothing tailored to emphasize this or that curve like a second skin. These days, her clothes looked at least a size too small, little bulges appearing where too-tight skirts and undergarments cut in. Selfishly, Magnolia appreciated that this meant Sonya’s cleavage was not just showcased by her button-ups, but nearly spilling out of them, even as she winced when she saw how much Sonya’s bra band pinched at her sides and back. She could see some signs of hasty repairs made to Sonya’s clothes—buttons sewn back on with slightly off-color thread, rips in skirts carefully mended but still visible. It wasn’t hard to surmise that Sonya was trying to make her old wardrobe last as long as possible before upgrading. Magnolia knew from experience that an academic’s wages didn’t have much wiggle room for buying new clothes.

Given that she saw Sonya regularly, the change had been almost imperceptible. Magnolia guessed Sonya had put on less than ten pounds. It was a significant gain in a relatively short amount of time, but a small enough change that most people wouldn’t notice. Well, so long as they didn’t notice the way the seams on all Sonya’s clothes were struggling lately.

Magnolia, pervert that she was, wanted nothing more than to believe that Sonya was simply giving in to the pleasures of good food and a full tummy after long, strenuous days at work. She knew that it was more likely just stress wreaking havoc on the poor librarian’s hormones and causing her weight to fluctuate at the worst possible time. Bodies could be weird that way. Still, her nurturing instincts were kicking in. She wanted to help. Inviting her over for dinner would be helpful, right? Some time to relax and let someone else take care of her for a minute? It didn’t have to be a date. Magnolia wanted it to be a date, but she wouldn’t die if it wasn’t. She even had an excuse to invite her over: Thanksgiving, and the accompanying week off (well, sort of) for both of them.

She thought about it all day as she dug through primary sources, trying to decide if she should even bother. When she finally gathered all the books she’d been working with and took them to the front desk, she found Sonya dual-wielding the library desktop and a separate work laptop, fielding questions via chat on one and working on a presentation on the other. The sheer efficiency of it made Magnolia feel starry-eyed. Sonya looked up as she approached, and her smile was big and bright. She was wearing matte lipstick in a hot pink shade, and bold pink eyeshadow to match. Her makeup made the little hot-pink polka dots on her white blouse pop. All that made Magnolia feel a little frumpy in her jeans and university sweatshirt, and a little childish with her hair pulled back in two short red pigtails. Really should’ve thought this through and dressed a little nicer today. But there was no fixing that now.

“Checking out for the day?” Sonya asked.

Magnolia nodded, trying to work up the courage to say more. They talked all the time, but now she was a ball of nerves. The way her tits seemed to take a half-second to follow the rest of her body every time she turned from one computer to another, wobbling gently once she stopped moving, wasn’t helping. Magnolia quietly cursed whatever god had allowed her to notice the anime-level jiggle physics happening in front of her as she separated her giant stack of books into more manageable piles on the edge of Sonya’s desk.

“Any plans for the break?” Sonya supplied, seeming not to notice Magnolia’s mild distress.

“Just staying home. Gonna take advantage of the break to actually get some writing done on my thesis, but I’m definitely going to do it on my couch in my PJs.”

Sonya sighed happily in agreement. “I’m probably going to be putting in a few hours of work, too, but working in your pajamas makes it so much better, doesn’t it? I’ve been too busy to think far enough ahead about my personal life to make plans for the holidays, so I’m definitely staying put.”

The thought of Sonya in comfy clothes made a light blush rise in Magnolia’s cheeks. She figured it was now or never. There wouldn’t be a time when she was less distracted or Sonya was apparently more available. “Well, since neither of us has plans—I actually have been in the mood to cook something nice. ‘Tis the season, and everything.” One of her hands went to the back of her neck. She focused on Sonya’s coppery brown eyes. “Would you be interested in coming over for dinner sometime next week? It would just be us—I don’t have a Friendsgiving planned or anything like that. Figured it might be nice for both of us to eat some good cooking instead of just reading about it all the time.” She smiled, doing her best to project confidence.

Sonya rested her elbows on the desk in front of her, lacing her fingers together before resting her chin on them. When she spoke, her voice was pitched lower. “Aren’t you sweet.” Her head quirked to the side and she gave a close-lipped, knowing smile. “I’m not one to turn down good home cooking.” Between her huskier voice and the way those bright brown eyes looked her up and down, it seemed very much like she hoped Magnolia would be on the menu. “Should I bring anything?”

“Nope!” Magnolia answered hurriedly, heart soaring. “I’m happy to take care of everything. You’re such a big help to me and everyone else who comes in here, and I’d love to treat you to a nice dinner.”

Sonya laughed again, her body language relaxing. “Goodness! Well, I’ll be ready to be spoiled, then.”

They exchanged phone numbers and picked a day and time. Magnolia danced the whole way to her bus stop, already imagining the feast she would cook up for the two of them.

***

For Magnolia, the week leading up to their dinner was nothing less than a whirlwind of trips to Rainbow Grocery, Berkeley Bowl, specialty butchers and cheese shops, and her favorite Asian grocery stores. In between grocery store outings, she was prepping, prepping, prepping, her little galley kitchen an absolute mess even though she was cleaning as she went.

The first thing she made was orange sorbet. She’d done her best to choose foods that were in season, and thankfully citrus was pretty much never out of season where they lived. It was a sticky process, and particularly so because she was using hollowed out oranges boiled in simple syrup as sugary bowls for the sorbet. Totally extra, but Sonya seemed like the type to appreciate it.

But that wasn’t even the actual dessert. The sorbet was intended more as a palate cleanser between the main course and dessert. Dessert would be a heavy pound cake with streaks of olallieberry jam running through it, topped with buttercream frosting flavored with the same olallieberry jam. Well, okay, the pound cake would be one of the dessert options. Magnolia hadn’t been able to choose between the pound cake, a classic pumpkin pie, or braised pears in a caramel sauce, so she made them all.

Deciding on the main course was harder. She flipped through her cookbooks, both modern and vintage, and scrolled through PDF and ebook versions of cookbooks much too old for her to own a physical copy, hoping for inspiration to strike. She decided to prepare her favorite tried-and-true turkey recipe, which involved slathering the entire thing with herb butter and then roasting it. Simple, and made more delicious given that the turkey was a little smaller and (according to the butcher) pasture-raised on a farm mere miles away. She’d purchased a similar bird a few years back and it had been ridiculously good.

Magnolia also couldn’t resist buying a pork roast while she was at the butcher. She had a really good recipe for a dry rub, and thought it might be nice to pair the roast with some rolls. It wasn’t as traditional as a ham or even a brisket, but she knew it would taste good and liked that there would be options for Sonya to enjoy.

She did try to rein herself in on the side dishes, limiting herself to a mere five: some homemade cranberry sauce; cubed sweet potatoes baked with brown sugar, butter, and spices, then topped with a layer of marshmallows; fluffy, buttery rolls she could practically make with her eyes closed; a mushroom and arugula galette; and, finally, a parsnip soup enlivened with crunchy chunks of pear and chopped walnuts.

On the day of, she worried a little that she’d gone overboard. She’d blown through her grocery budget for the month and then some, pulling money from her meager savings to cover it all. It was worth it for the chance to impress Sonya, she reasoned. And it was a holiday anyway. She cooked nice things for herself, but nothing close to this. It was nice to push herself a little instead of making the same simple, fast stuff she usually did.

She let Sonya know over text that she definitely wasn’t planning on wearing anything fancy, and that Sonya was welcome to dress as casually as she liked. “I might’ve gone a little nuts, so you might want to wear elastic.”

Sonya replied “:p Do I seem like the kind of woman who owns clothes with elastic in them?”

Magnolia got a laugh out of that just before she hopped in the shower. She couldn’t imagine Sonya wearing anything other than what she wore to work. It was silly, but she couldn’t even really visualize Sonya entirely without makeup, much less wearing an oversized t-shirt or pants with any kind of stretch. It seemed so at odds with Magnolia’s perception of her, even though of course there had to be times when she swept all that long, pretty hair into a messy bun and sat on her couch in pajamas with nary a trace of lipstick in sight. Her heart gave a little squeeze at the thought of getting to see her dressed down. Maybe someday.

She fussed a little bit over what to wear. She did want to look casual, but she also didn’t want to seem sloppy or like she didn’t care. (As if making enough food for ten people twice over wouldn’t show she cared no matter what she wore.) She wound up choosing a pair of slightly poofy black linen pants with a sleeveless white top she usually saved for interviews. She looked some variety of casual but a little luxurious, which hit the mark she was hoping for. It took her a bit to decide what to do with her hair, settling for letting it air dry and go a little wavy.

Setting the table also required some thinking and fretting. She put out two of her nicest plates from the hodge-podge of thrift store crockery she owned, and the fanciest-looking flatware she had (also thrifted). She even folded a couple cloth napkins and tucked the flatware inside them. The table was small, so she’d planned to serve things buffet-style in the little kitchen. She debated putting a candle on the table, but dismissed it as both too romantic for a first date (?) and also probably a fire hazard given that some dishes would inevitably migrate from the kitchen to the table.

By the time Sonya knocked on the door, Magnolia had run out of things to do to calm her nerves and felt ready to bounce off the walls. She practically ran to the door, but tried to be smooth when she opened it. “Hi!” she said with a huge grin.

Sonya greeted her with a big smile. “Happy early Thanksgiving.” Magnolia opened the door wide, taking Sonya in as she did so. As always, she knocked the wind out of Magnolia’s lungs. She had her long hair pulled up into a sleek high ponytail. Her makeup was subtler than usual, with a mostly nude palette rather than the bolder colors she usually favored. Her lips were painted with a quieter red than Magnolia was used to seeing on her. She’d brought a bottle of wine for them to share—much nicer than anything Magnolia usually drank, and with a wonderfully saucy name: Passion Has Red Lips. The label reminded her of a lesbian pulp novel from the ‘50s.

Most interesting to Magnolia, though, was Sonya’s outfit choice. Rather than the sharp businesswear Magnolia always saw her in, she was in a soft, body-hugging sweater dress. Like everything else she wore, it fit close to her body, knitted fabric gracing every curve. The small pooch of her belly pressed forward between her wide hips, just barely obvious beneath the gray fabric. Even with her hair looking so perfect and the chunky-heeled, knee-high brown leather boots she’d paired the dress with, the ensemble seemed to soften her. Maybe it was because the garment wasn’t as structured as what Magnolia usually saw her in, leaving her movements and body much more unrestricted, but she looked much more warm and cuddly than normal. Since this was technically just a nice dinner and not necessarily a date (yet? hopefully? maybe?), Magnolia didn’t want to read too much into it, but she couldn’t help but peg Sonya’s overall look as “approachable and inviting.”

Sonya noticed the shoe rack by the door and Magnolia’s bare feet and slipped off her boots, becoming three inches shorter in the process. “Those socks look so comfy!” Magnolia chirped. Sonya smiled and told her where she’d gotten them. They were long, thick, brown socks, clearly meant to be paired with her boots and perfect for foggy, chilly nights.

“I don’t usually have a reason to wear them anywhere. Usually I’m just wearing them around the house, so it’s nice for someone to get to see them.” She stuck her leg out and posed, making a silly face and earning her a laugh from Magnolia, who led her toward the dining table. “Your apartment is so cute! I don’t even want to know how much you’re paying in rent.”

Conversation flowed easily after that, and soon focused on the ridiculous feast Magnolia had prepared in the kitchen.

“Okay, when I said I was ready to be spoiled, I don’t know if I meant quite this much!” Sonya teased.

Magnolia felt her cheeks go warm. “I might have gotten a little carried away… but I promise, everything is delicious.”

Soon, they were both carrying plates piled high with Thanksgiving goodness to the table: plenty of turkey, rolls, and pork roast, with generous slices of mushroom galette and sweet potatoes. Sonya wanted to hear about every dish in detail and insisted that she be sent the recipes at some point. Magnolia was happy to discuss her choices and techniques: her focus on seasonal and local options, the places she’d shopped, the recipes she’d compiled. Sonya was a captive audience, helping herself to seconds in the kitchen as Magnolia gushed about the mushroom farmer that always showed up at the farmer’s market on Saturdays. “It’s the next best thing to foraging for mushrooms yourself.”

Sonya definitely agreed. “Do you go mushroom foraging often? I’ve always wanted to try that, but I’m, you know, a little worried about dying.”

Magnolia was glad things were going well—and impressed at how well Sonya was able to keep the conversation up, given how much she was eating. Definitely not just hormonal stress weight, then, she thought. Magnolia didn’t have anything to compare Sonya’s usual appetite to, and of course this was a special holiday meal, but she was polishing off her food with ravenous speed. Magnolia was surprised Sonya wasn’t bigger, if this was anything like how she normally ate. “I’ve never been! I have some friends who are into mycology, and they bring me some more easily identified mushrooms sometimes, but I haven’t gone myself.” She watched Sonya butter a warm roll, then dip it into her steaming bowl of parsnip soup. She moaned a little as she stuffed half the roll into her mouth. “We should go together. Maybe take one of those foraging tours?  It would give us something else to chat about when I’m harassing you at work.”

Sonya swallowed. “That sounds fabulous! I’m always ridiculously busy, as you know, but I’d make time for that.” She ate a few bites of soup, clearly relishing the taste. “Maybe we should do it soon. I’m definitely going to need some exercise to burn off this banquet.”

Magnolia worried things might drift to diet talk, or that Sonya was somehow unhappy with her. But then Sonya dipped the other half of her roll into her soup and moaned again. “You really weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to spoil me. I hope you’re staying in town for Christmas.” She swallowed, tongue darting out to lick her lips. “I’d love to do this again, and maybe contribute more than wine and good company next time.” She sat back a little bit, a huge smile on her face. Magnolia noticed that her little belly was stretched a bit further, pressing against the front of her dress.

“I’m really happy you’re enjoying it.” Sonya’s plate was empty again. “Can I get you anything else? I was about to get up for seconds myself.”

Sonya thought about it for a moment, then said, “Honestly? More of everything. It’s all so good.” Her hand went absently to her middle.

“Of course,” Magnolia smiled, a rush of arousal running through her as she processed Sonya’s enthusiasm.

It took until Sonya’s fourth plate for her to start flagging. She was clearly stuffed, but Magnolia could see in her eyes that she still wanted to eat. Thankfully, there was still the sorbet to serve, and actual dessert after that. When Magnolia brought out the frozen, sugared oranges filled with homemade sorbet, Sonya’s eyes went wide. “These look magnificent.” She ate slowly, mindful of how full she was, which made for quite a show. Magnolia did her best not to stare, but Sonya’s enjoyment was obvious regardless. “They taste even better,” she murmured just before she licked another bite off her spoon.

Dessert was next, and Sonya happily devoured everything put in front of her. The braised pears were her favorite, though she couldn’t seem to get enough of the olallieberry frosting on the cake, either. A good portion of the pie went down her gullet, too, slowly but surely.

By the time they were actually finished, Sonya looked ready to pop. Her dress was more forgiving than Magnolia would’ve assumed, stretching to accommodate Sonya’s seemingly endless appetite. Though her hourglass shape could disguise how big she’d eaten herself when one looked at her from the front, a glance at Sonya from the side made it look like she’d swallowed the twelve-pound turkey whole. Magnolia was more than pleased.

They ended up sitting on Magnolia’s couch (thrifted and a little worn, but surprisingly comfortable), talking for another hour or so while they both digested, finishing up the wine. Mostly, they didn’t talk about work, though of course Sonya wanted to hear more about how Magnolia’s research was going.

Magnolia shared some of her findings, and brought up her new favorite website: a woman who had decided to document all the beautiful things she saw chefs doing with butter at fine dining establishments. “The photos are so lovely and I’m so jealous! I would love to have an excuse to eat butter curls or whatever!”

As the afternoon wore into evening, their conversation wound down. Sonya stood up and went to put on her boots, groaning a little as she struggled to bend down. Magnolia followed slowly to the doorway. “This was really nice,” Sonya said once she was standing again, towering over her petite host.

“It was. Thank you for coming.”

“I meant what I said about Christmas, you know. I—” Sonya cleared her throat. “I like spending time with you.”

Magnolia smiled and looked down, a little shy. “I feel the same way.”

“Do you?” There was a beat where they just looked at each other. Sonya reached out a manicured hand and tipped Magnolia’s chin upward so she could look right into her eyes. “Because I’d like to give you a kiss before I leave, as a thank you and a promise that we’ll do this again soon.”

Magnolia’s lips fell open slightly. “Just one kiss?” she answered.

Sonya smiled and leaned down, pulling Magnolia close, until their lips finally touched. Magnolia wasn’t sure where to put her hands at first, then quickly found Sonya’s solid, churning gut, and from there her waist and cushiony hips. Sonya rested her hands over Magnolia’s, inviting her to touch more.

Magnolia felt like she was being devoured, and she was perfectly fine with letting that happen. More than fine. She was pressed against Sonya’s stuffed stomach, having perhaps the best kiss of her young life, and it seemed like it would go on forever.

It did end, of course. Sonya pulled back an inch or so, both of them breathing hard. “I knew you’d be good,” Sonya said, kissing the grad student’s forehead, the last of her lipstick leaving a faint red outline of her lips behind. “You can’t cook like that and be a bad kisser.”

Magnolia gave a breathy laugh. “I can’t believe we just kissed. I think I’ve been waiting for that since I first met you.”

Sonya’s smile was knowing as she turned the front door knob. “I know, cutie. You’re not half as subtle as you think you are.”