SOMA

Amuse-bouche

Real Beef Cheeks

It started with a culinary obsession.

Every dish requires the best ingredients. Sourcing them is an art in of itself. Have your menu, your dishes in mind. List them. See them, smell what they should be and accept nothing less than perfection. How does a carrot peel? A stalk of celery snap?

What is first?

We talk of mise en place, that most critical of steps, but never the amuse-bouche. That single satisfaction, the delectable bite that tells the tale of the rest of the meal, the eye opener. To build the perfect bite…My first was watermelon with goat cheese and mint. A squirt of freshness followed by a dash of bitter cream and brightness, the first step towards my own awakening.

You close your eyes, it surrounds you. Let your palate scream the tales it has to tell, and listen close – this might be the last time you hear the story, but its certainly the first for this meal.

For her, it must be the cheeks. Pan fried with a dry white wine, some thyme and a bit of balsamic vinegar…and as much garlic as she can stomach. Stomach.

In my defense, she smelled wonderful.

Feed her first.

Roast garlic and onion, quartered, coated in oil for 60-90 minutes at 450 degrees. When she begins to protest, hold her nose until she opens up her mouth and gently force a shoe horn down her esophagus. You only need her open for 1-2 minutes, and this serves the dish entire anyway so she can wait.

When the cavity is clear, use a wooden spoon to get the onion and garlic in. Follow with vegetable stock if she seems dry.

As she digests, pulling the cheek out correctly requires precision and proper sutures. Start your cut above the jawline just enough to draw blood on the gums if your finger slips, but not so deep you hit muscle. Draw an oblong circle, scratching across the front and back teeth. If you’ve found a wisdom tooth, you’ve gone too far.

In another life she may appreciate that.

But you’re no fucking dentist.

Once you’ve properly retrieved the cheeks, anticoagulant powder is your best friend. It quells the blood and preserves the meat, with little addition/change to flavor. If she continues to protest, a swift blow to the back of the head will not only knock her out but slow the blood flow.

You’ll have to cook her, now.

Now, build a good crust. Her screams will be pervasive – a good tip: take a roll of gauze and run it through her cheeks like cotton in the gums. It may look like she’s mouthing a rolling pin, but the blood will stop quick.

To the pan fry: blacken the cheek meat on both sides in a hot pan with browned butter. As the caramelization begins, throw some thyme in the bottom, and spoon the mixture over the cheeks as they cook.

Once the flesh springs back against a soft press of the finger, remove it to cool. While the meat itself is tender, this specific bitch is tough. A quick steam solves that – but its important you get that crust first, or it just won’t stick.

1/4 cup dry white wine with 2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar, cover, 3 minutes on high. Woman flesh gives so much faster than beef.

Appetizer

Sweet Meats Tacos

It must be. The thymus gland, the most tender and unctuous.

I’m afraid we need to pause, though – we missed the opener. Where I found her, where I knew she was hungry, and she needed to eat.

I waited until she went shopping.

For all the obvious signs I’d say she was doing a roast. So I followed her down the aisles. Thyme, oregano, a bit of basil and the mire poix. A side of beef and I can see I’ve guessed well.

I follow her, basket in hand, and grab what I need. Rosemary, for the stuffing. Lemon and potatoes, to complete the side. Likely a balsamic reduction for the sauce, or possibly a lemon butter demi glace.

Potatoes, fingerling in a sweet corn butter sauce – a perfectly fine sauce to a perfectly fine dish. It was a pity that just wasn’t going to work, not for what I’d planned.

Though I was sure we could use the ingredients somewhere. Just as I would use him.

She sure seemed like a shit cook, something I couldn’t help but consider. A poor series of acts then probably, unless someone was trying to fuck her, and thought higher of her skills. Then it would be even worse.

When she arrived home, I followed. None too close, but I stumbled upon her kitchen window as she was unpacking. Startled, she turned. My aromatics and veggies tumbled from my suddenly weak grasp and I spoke, stammering out stuttered and awesomely innocent words,

“Sorry! So sorry. My car broke down and my phones dead, and now this shit.” I gestured limply at the discarded groceries. “Any chance I can use yours? Phone, I mean. It’s my Ma’s birthday today, I told her I’d cook!”

Its amazing how simple social graces disable so many people.

“Uh…sure, let me help you with that.” She leant down, without a care, to pick up my discarded nothings.

She helps me inside her apartment, and her eyes begin to narrow. I always thought you could smell the beast, whether you were looking for him or not.

Why does he have groceries if he came from his car, and doesn’t live here? What the fuck was he planning to cook with this random list? For his mother no less?

I spin suddenly, the gleaming needle in hand, and shes down,

a babe in nights darkest hour. And I open the door to him.

When she comes to, she can’t feel her limbs. Properly trussed, the average humans no more than a glorified bird, spread eagle on the table and ready for proper butchering.

A leg, a hand, an arm or a cheek. Where I start is mine, but – there is an order to these things.

Now, to them recipes.

FINAL

Amuse Bouche

Cheeky

Searing meat, a sweet fucking high – if you think bacon’s magical, you should try 25 year old cheek. The simpler your preparation, the better: salt, pepper, cook hot briefly on high heat to get that beautiful crust – be careful though, there.

Its a tender cut unless you fuck it up.

Down low and slow, follow the fucking recipe. That’s what he always taught us, follow the recipe.

Its about what it looks like here. Wipe down the plate before setting it on the table in front of her <quivering, he whispered> shakin’ frame.

Appetizer

Sweety Meats

This one takes some time, even for an appetizer. You’ll want to be sure she’s comfortable, but be careful with the anesthetic.

Too much taints the flesh. Adds a tanginess that only <intensifies> with low and slow cooking. At this point a gag won’t work any more, and twine will be necessary to hold the jaw shut, and in order to ensure the freshest meat, wrap the jaw and mouth in gauze tightly, to prevent spillage. Throw some citrus in there so when she screams it squeezes out some more juice.

Can you believe he said to boil them in milk?

Delicious.

Entree

Braised Shanks

WE get this?

<In order to take the shank off properly, wrap rubber tubing tightly several times around the leg just above the knee.>

Notice, as the blood drains from her calf, how her eyes widen and the sweat flies off her forehead as she shakes her head back and forth back and forth, realization filling her eyes with terror. Don’t lean forward, don’t inhale her, don’t reach one finger out to drag across her temples pushing her head back don’t bring that finger to your lips to taste her dont

After a few minutes circulation should be gone. Before the blood begins to settle, using your <his, it’s his> bone knife take the tibia off at the joint. Repeat on the other side. A topical anticoagulant will slow the bleeding before you again wrap the exposed meat in gauze. He always said about the topical . Jus put it on right after.

Brown the meat in a pan on high heat, to sear the flesh. You needn’t worry about plucking the shanks, this one takes care of herself. Let the hair burn, its quick for her she doesn’t have much

From there its into the crockpot with rosemary, thyme, garlic (whole cloves is fine here), 1 Spanish onion and a few bottles of Malbec (the spiciness compliments the Iron supplements she takes to combat that troublesome anemia). Save a bottle for yourself, this is thirsty work.

<red wine is ok>

Let it go low and slow for at least 4 hours – though time may vary depending on the size and shape of the shank.

Dessert

The best part of any meal. Array your dishes, prepared in such careful fashion, in the center of the table. Now that you’ve removed her hands, place them to either side of her plate.

She won’t need utensils.

Sit across from her, with a glass of wine in hand. Run your gaze over the remainder of her form, tied so tightly to that chair. She’s stopped struggling now, gave up a few hours ago. How long HAS it been? easily by now 6-7 hours. And she hasn’t had a bite to eat.

Inhale those wonderful smells, the smells of cooking, of a meal well prepared.

Now, make sure the windows are closed and hammered shut, and that all means of bye bye are blocked off solidly except for the door in to the dining room. Untie her. Lock the door. And leave.

He was serious about this part

Maybe pick up some McDonalds on the way home – those fries are divine

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EPILOGUE

He knew he’d fucked up. He’d seen the news, seen she’d escaped, knew that he didn’t secure the kitchen window.

He knew, but that also meant she did, too.

where the fuck did her hands go