Chapter 59

‘More romantic than you think,’ Ari countered, his voice taking on a hushed reverence. ‘Imagine this: a tiny fishing boat, bobbing on a sea so blue it hurts your eyes, somewhere remote, like the Arctic Circle. The air is crisp, the sun a pale sliver above the horizon, and you’ve just hauled in a catch so rare, so pristine, it practically shimmers in the sunlight. A king salmon, say, or a plump Arctic char.’ His eyes seemed to lose themselves in the memory. ‘You prepare it right there, on the boat, the salty wind whipping your hair. Just a simple pan, a splash of lemon juice, maybe a sprinkle of dill, and you cook it over a driftwood fire. The first bite, the flesh melting on your tongue, infused with the taste of the sea, the wildness of the place… it’s a taste of freedom, of adventure, of something utterly primal.’ Elodie couldn’t help but be drawn in by his poetic voice, her risotto forgotten. ‘Fish, huh? Then you should definitely try the cioppino. LeBlanc makes it with Dungeness cr