Cuisine de Ma Maison

SMU - Professor Trudeau's Office

Sunday nights are for date nights, right? Couples dancing away the hours before life and work begins the next morning, laughing and living life to its fullest under the stars. Or, perhaps they're at the lake, or walking the streets hand in hand, sharing whispers of secrets for their ears only.

Then there are the bachelors and bachelorettes, confirmed or just those who haven't found the time to really search, who spend their Sunday nights in solitary confinement, or perhaps 'out with the guys' or 'girls'. For them, something else takes precedence, and whether they like it or not, it will require some real foundation shaking in order to bring them out of that sort of mindset.

So it is with Dr. David Trudeau.

Ensconced in his second 'home away from home', that is, the 'office', he sits behind his basic grey-metal desk with pencil in the same hand that is being used to prop up his head via his cheek. Books and bookcases cover the back wall, while a sliding glass window that overlooks the roof and HVAC unit of the addition beside him lies on another. Just under the window, a metal grating that is a heating unit sits, the space used for a horizontal surface to hold papers and files temporarily. On his desk is a desktop computer, a small flat-screen attached that now shows graphs.. and currently, he is working with data with a sweep of the mouse on his desk.

Glasses are off, and there's something of a squint to his eyes as David concentrates on the display before him.

Yup… La-La-Land…


And into all of that silence and concentration, comes a knock at the door, polite, but firm. Certainly not what one might expect from a college building late in the evening on a Sunday, when you either have a key to get into said office, or you're a member of security, and they tend not to knock so politely. But still, Mignonette waits, just outside of the door, a large cooler at her feet. It's rather space-agey looking, rather like something the doctor himself might make use of in his second profession, or perhaps his first. Which does come first…the teacher or the researcher? But for now, she waits, lifting her hand to rap her knuckles against the door a second time, dressed as professionally as ever. Seems she's never off-duty in the doctor's presence.


Lifting his head from its perch on the hand, David blinks rapidly once, twice in an attempt to try and focus on something other than the screen. Failing that, of course, the glasses are reached for even as he gives a 'Come in," response to the rapping, his tones.. inquisitive. Sunday night in a college building. Who would—

As for his own mode of dress, the doctor is down to rolled-up shirtsleeves, a watch worn now evident.


Mignonette pushes the door open, allowing it to swing open far enough that she can walk in unassisted, reaching down to pick up the cooler and hefting it, extremely gingerly, she starts into the office, "I really need to get a job here, if only to get an ID I can use to avoid that security guard. I thought I was going to end up being slid through an x-ray machine or be the subject of a body cavity search." She continues in, finding a suitable free space to set down her cooler, "I was just accosted by Helga the Hard-Nosed Hessian. But enough about me. How're you this evening, Dr. Trudeau?"


David smiles as he sees who it is beyond the door, and rises to his feet. "Am I going to have to go downstairs and speak to them?" He stresses the word 'speak' to intimate that perhaps there would be something more along the line of fisticuffs to defend the honour of the lady bearing.. something.

For him.

"As for Helga," he shrugs, "I think she's just trying to look out for .. her interests? Thank goodness we don't have copy-rooms around here, or I think she'd lock us in one." All is said with a light tone, amused, certainly.

"Now.. I'm bien, thank you.. Vous?" Looking down at the burden carried, he steps across and closes the door behind her. "What brings you out this way?" A lopsided grin rises, "Other than to test our building security?"


"Oh, I'm alright. And I'm sure she is just looking out for her interests, but she doesn't need to look out so hard. It's not a cache of depleted uranium in here you know." Mignonette taps the top of the cooler while she's at it, "If we end up in the copy room, you had better not try to copy any body parts. Because I am not going to handle the bids on Ebay when they start coming in." She doesn't say exactly what she's here, she just makes a twirling motion with her fingers, "Go to the window and admire the nice summer evening. And no peeking."


A laugh exits as he looks back at the cooler, his brows rising somewhat. "It's not? Desolle.." «I'm sorry/regrets..»

David's lopsided grin relights upon his face, the expression reaching blue eyes behind the frames. "I'm sure no one will want to buy body parts on Ebay.. at least not from me." He laughs again and shakes his head. "Though when I was younger, 'hand art' was all the rage. Turkeys, trees.."

Upon Mignonette's request to turn around, however, his brows rise in askance.. and curiosity. "I'm sorry?" David peers at the cooler again, and looks as if he's considering the request. 'Why' is on his lips, but it doesn't find voice. Instead, he shrugs ever so slightly and reaches up to pull his glasses off and holds them in one hand, folding it up gently. "There.. can't see a thing. Still want me at the window?"


"Still want you at the window yes. But you can spend your time at the window not telling me about how you made your body parts conform to the shape of a turkey or a tree. It must be a Canadian gift, because the most I know people who've done it can manage is a double moon when their bottom is against the glass of the xerox machine." Still, Mignonette waits until you're properly turned around, giving absolutely nothing away, as she waits. It's not until you're turned away that she opens out the cooler and starts pulling containers out. It smells like something edible, if nothing else, but there seems to be no small amount of work that needs to go into making it ready. But, after a few minutes, she finally speaks. "Alright, you can turn around now." It seems the lawyer tried to make whatever she delivered as authentic as possible, even down to packaging it in a styrofoam box. It's poutine, at least the standard version. But she must have worked some sort of magic, because the fries are crispy, the gravy is fresh, and the cheese curd looks as if it might just squeak when you bite into it.


David actually reddens a little at the thought of sitting his butt on a xerox machine simply because there certainly other little dangly bits that can get caught up in the copy, as it were. "I.. meant hands. Hands.. on the copier.." Hands.

Turning his back finally to Mignonette and her cooler of not-depleted-uranium, he exhales softly and looks out onto the tarred rooftops, the rain just now beginning to fall in small patters. "Hand art won't sell that well on Ebay, but derriere copies? Though, not until I've become rich and famous, peut etre.. If that ever happens. Until then, I think only Helga will be bidding."

The smell of the food wafts a couple of moments later, and he cants his head, his brows beetling as he identifies the smell. Fries.. no.. that's..

In Texas?

urning around, David puts his glasses back on with two hands, and dropping them, takes a step forward, his tones quizzical, "Poutine?"


"Of course you did, but don't give me that. I'm sure they would sell very well. Some corporate spy trying to find out what exactly the CDC might be working on in their secret underground laboratories? Oh…I could get top dollar for you, Dr. David Trudeau, oh yes I could, and don't think I'll forget that." Blackmail is just SO lucrative, yes it is. Mignonette steps back to the cooler, even as you turn around, uncapping the small side of the cooler, which seems to be reserved for cold things, as the main compartment is for hot things. "I didn't know what you liked, but I brought some Dad's Root Beer, and some Crush…and a Canada Dry. I know, I'm just a laugh a minute." A frown crosses her expression at the question, "Well, isn't it? I mean…that's how they make it in Quebec, isn't it?"


Laughter erupts and he steps forward. "Ha, ha.. Canada Dry. Very nice." David stands just at Mignonette's shoulder as she takes stock of the food laid out before them, and nods appreciatively. "It looks good… Mind?" Reaching forward to grab the styrofoam container, the gravied fries are the first things he tries that had settled off to the side, before his brows rise in question to Mignonette. "Did you try any while you were making it?" She couldn't have gone all the way to Canada for it, and he's pretty sure there aren't any places around that would even consider putting poutine together, much less having it look.. almost perfect.

David pulls a couple of fries, messy business that, and rolls his head back to make sure he gets it all. Chewing the bits, he's certainly enjoying it.. and makes sounds that send just that message. "Here.." There is a moment when he considers licking his fingers, but decides instead on a napkin (though his pants was also in the running!), and offers the container. "Try it. For me?"


"Well, it wasn't like there was an authentic grocery nearby, at least not I could find that had anything, well, anyway." She at least joins you in that laughter, though it sobers a bit as you pick up the styrofoam container and a fork. Apparently that first taste test is very important, as it should be to any chef, "Oh no, I did. I mean, I did taste the gravy, and a couple of fries to make sure that they were crispy outside and soft inside," which is a requirement for a good poutine, "But I didn't try everything together. I tried to get here as quickly as I could, so everything would still be fresh. Thank goodness you weren't working late at the CDC, it would have been a wreck." There's a slightly put-off look as she watches you chewing. She can hear squeaking! She swears, but she does man up, once you ask, and she picks up a fork herself, to give it a small little try, a fry, some gravy, a piece of cheese curd. A moment to pop it in her mouth, before she looks like she's chewing on bubble gum, face all scrunched up.


"Ah.. it's an acquired taste. Thank you for trying it anyway." Leaning over, David takes the liberty to attempt to place a chaste kiss upon her cheek. "Mais, I do appreciate the effort, and you did a very good job." He smiles and looks down at the food once more, "Just like home.. though I think you used fresher ingredients.. which isn't bad," he adds quickly. "It's like.. the difference between homemade and fast food.. which works for me."

David just knows that she's not enjoying it from the look on her face, and with an audible, amused sigh, David waves the fork as he speaks, "Tell you what.. next bit of home you cook for yourself, I will try if you so desire.. and I won't give you any argument. Okay?"


Mignonette unscrunches her face, her expression turning from abject horror, to a bright, sunny smile, which comes just after the kiss, and his offer to try something from her home. "Gotcha." She really should do summer stock. But alas, such a thing isn't in the lawyer's cards as she moves to make herself a small serving, and then settle into one of the chairs across from his, "It's actually not that bad. I didn't know anyone from there, so I had to do searches on-line to try to find a good recipe for the gravy, and I, fortunately know a few chefs in the city, one was able to make the cheese for me. The last time I made cheese, it was in a chemistry glass in college, and I didn't think I wanted to try to repeat that." She does dig in though, eating as intensely as she always does, "But I'm going to hold you to trying something from my part of the world." Even if she did fake you into agreeing.



Oh, for crying out loud…

David laughs, and hangs his head in mock desolation. "You got me.."

Taking a deep breath, he sits down into his own office chair and swings it around to be sure he's facing his guest. "It really isn't. It is an acquired taste, however. Even with my own countrymen.. It's like.. um.. oh, I don't know. Either you love it or you hate it. There's nothing in between with it."

Digging in with his fork, he takes a couple of appreciative bites, chewing and swallowing happily. "Cheese.. in a chemistry class. I'm.. afraid, unless it was something of a fermentation experiment? If it was, I could think of a couple of other things I'd rather experiment on than milk products…" Shaking his head, he spears more fries. "No.." He narrows his eyes as he looks at the lady before him, "I'm pretty sure we don't want that repeated. I mean, no offense, because I've had a few lab experiments consider overthrowing the faculty and setting up a new system of collegiate government.."

David chuckles and takes another bite of food. He's going to regret this, he's pretty sure.. but a promise is a promise. "Something like fried green tomatoes, or more exotique?"


"It was chemistry 101 lab, and yes, we were studying fermentation. And we had to eat the cheese we made if we wanted full credit. Fortunately, the lab assistant brought in a huge bag of Fritos for us to eat it with, so it both killed off, I hope, whatever it was we might have inadvertently put in the cheese when we were making it, with the salt content, and covered up the taste with the corn flavour." She continues to eat, "Well, we love gravy in the south, so anything with that on it would be edible. But I'm not going to have you jump off the depend for our first experiment. I'm thinking maybe I'll put together a small tasting menu, and you can have a few small bites of everything and decide on what you like." She pokes a fork at the french fries on her plate, "If you like this, what we eat at home will be no trouble. And most of what I make does have a very strong cajun influence, so it should not be so unfamiliar to you."


David listens intently to the story, the smile remaining from the previous laugh. It's a funny story, and he puts his tray down before he claps his hands quietly.. "Now there's a professor who can teach.. and assure an 'A'. Or at least a passing grade." After all, if it has to be edible, what better way to make sure the student studies than to make them eat it afterwards? "Perfect.. and I may have to use that. Only in a bio lab." The smile turns lopsided again as David adds, "They better be afraid.."

As for the Southern Cuisine? He's willing.

"Okay.. as long as I'm not tearing heads off things and sucking their insides.." David is doing his research! "Not very appealing." A chuckle rises and he gestures with the styrofoam container in hand, "But.. it has to be of equal or less 'eccch' quality than poutine." He pauses, then, "Okay?"


"Suddenly, I am very glad that I don't need to take biology classes as part of my continuing education. But if you tell your students that this was all my idea, I will deny it. I am not going to be the subject of college payback pranks." True to her word to try a bit, Mignonette does finish her serving, though she returns to the cooler, stealing just some plain fries and gravy for dipping. "I promise I won't make you suck the heads of crawfish, but I will make you try it. Maybe. And there's always Boudin noir…or cracklins….oh, the possibilities are really endless you know. You might never leave my kitchen." A long pause, before she asks, just as conversationally as before, "How do you feel about alligator?"


"Deny? Ha.." David laughs, "You think Helga doesn't record my conversations in this office?" Nothing like a stalker?

"But.. I have absolutely no idea what those are.." Shaking his head, he puts his container down, as well as his fork. "Boudin noir.. not boudin blanc.." He's getting the funny idea that it'll be a little more spicy, yes. "Cracklins?"

"Okay.. I'm afraid now.. and alligators." It's a little much. "I.. I don't know. I'm not really a fan of theirs, but they're fascinating in a biological sort of way. One of the closest links we have to dinosaurs and the eras gone by."


"Oh, my good man, we are going to have so much fun together." Mignonette rises from where she's been dipping fries, as she moves to step around the corner of the desk, leaning down to return the kiss, just as chastely, to your cheek, before she makes her way over towards the window, looking down onto the campus below, "If I see her head peeking out from the other side of the building, I'm going to make a note of that." But she seems happy to stand at the window, comfortable, as her hands settle onto the edges of the window on either side of her, "So…tell me more about these ideas you have for your biology classes…"

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