Page 39 of The Chef and the Countess

Chapter 13

By six o’clock Saturday night, Celia looked as tired as Liam felt. It had been her first week of work, and Liam was proud of the job she had done. She managed to keep up with the more experienced workers with only minor missteps. He located her in the staff dining room, scrubbing the table.

“Celia, enough for tonight. We have tomorrow to do the cleaning.”

She dropped into the chair and exhaled. “I cannot believe how fast the week went.”

“Time goes by swiftly when one is busy.” Liam placed a crockery bowl in front of her. “I know you ate supper, but here’s some pudding for you to try. It’s called flummery. It’s milk-soaked bread in Irish workhouses, but I’ve improved it by adding oats, honey, blackberries, plums, cream, and a drop or two of Irish whiskey.”

“That sounds delicious,” Celia smiled radiantly. “You used the crusts from the sandwiches?”

Liam would make her flummery every day to bask in her warm regard. “Aye, I did. I’ll fetch the tea.” Once he brought them mugs of tea, he sat opposite her at the table. Liam watched as she took her first spoonful.

Celia’s eyes closed. “Oh, it’s warm and delightful.” She took another spoonful and then met his gaze. “If I am being too forward, tell me. Is that where you had flummery? In a workhouse?” He must have frowned, for she waved her hand. “Never mind. It’s none of my concern. I’m sorry for asking.”

“I don’t like dredging up the past. I believe it should stay hidden so it will not interfere with the present—or the future, for that matter.” Celia appeared disappointed in his firm response. No, she was not disappointed—she was hurt, although she tried to mask it. Since when did he care what anyone thought?

Since I met Celia.

“I’m not saying I’ll never discuss it,” Liam said softly. “It’s just not easy for me. Give me time to warm up to the subject.”

“I understand. Honestly, I do. Can you tell me about the restaurant? Enya mentioned it was your idea to change it into a dining room.”

Talking about The Crowing Cock, he could handle. “I started learning the business when Walter Henning took me off the streets. He sent me to school in the afternoons.”

Celia smiled. “Like you do with the boys.”

“Aye. Walter’s business was basically a chop house and pub, with a brothel upstairs.”

“A brothel? Is that why the place is called The Crowing Cock?”

Liam nearly sprayed his tea across the table. He coughed and took another sip. “No. But I suppose it has a double meaning. There has been a pub on this corner lot since the mid-1700s. Back then, many taverns and coffee houses sold cock ale. The ale was made for medicinal purposes, a nourishing tonic mixed with minced, boiled game cock and spices. It supposedly helped the blood and humors or whatever they believed back then.”

Celia sipped her tea. “I had no clue about the ale. When did you close the brothel?”

“Not as soon as I would have liked. I wanted to close it when Walter died, and I inherited the business. But the ladies suggested an arrangement: they would keep it open until renovations could be done.”

“Your kitchen is wonderfully bright and cheery. Did you design it?”

“Aye. I picked up a lot of ideas from books. How to lay out a floor plan for maximum efficiency.”

“You are to be commended,” Celia enthused.

Liam basked in the praise. “I closed the brothel six months ago. The ladies wanted a say in the business and a small cut of the profits. I agreed to their proposal.”

Understanding dawned on Celia’s lovely face. “Fiona and Enya?”

“Aye. Hannah, as well. I’ve known them since Walter took me in at age fourteen.”

“You all came together for a common purpose. They mean a lot to you,” Celia stated, her voice gentle.

“Aye. They were protective of me, and as I grew taller and more robust, I became protective of them. I did not want to run a low-class chop house or work in an upper-crust place where French dining was the norm. I wanted something in between. I found a cookbook at a second-hand shop called “Soyer’s Shilling Cookery for the People,” published in ‘45. The French chef Alexis Soyer was famous for introducing gas cooking and helping craft legislation to help the poor Irish during the potato famine. He even traveled to Ireland to set up a kitchen to feed needy people. He served a thousand people an hour.”

“You admired him and emulated him. Cookery for the people, everyday meals, good food, and looking after those less fortunate,” Celia observed.

Liam sipped his tea. “Aye, I suppose I did. The basic kitchen design? The chopping boards that slide out of the counter? I got those ideas from Soyer. Also, how to avoid excess food waste and the importance of cleanliness. I could go on.”

“How fascinating. What is a chop house?”