The kitchen had always been regarded as a woman's domain, yet Antony Marcus did not mind wearing an apron around his waist at all.
In fact, he rather enjoyed cooking, especially plating. Pizzas covered in cheese and sausage at fast-food restaurants were certainly appetizing, but such places had no dress code.
When Antony placed the dish before Mills, the former detective suddenly felt as though he had worn the wrong clothes.
He should have worn formal attire—the same outfit he had worn when proposing to Tracy—but he had not changed his shirt in two days, and there were still ketchup stains on his jacket.
"Traditional beef tartare is raw, but because its protein structure remains intact, it cannot bring out the meat's fresh flavor. If food is cooked at excessively high temperatures, the meat loses moisture and with it the distinctive texture of raw beef. So I tried low-temperature cooking. The sauce has already seeped into the beef fibers during cooking, and I used salmon roe and seaweed as toppings."
"Like sushi," Mills said.
"Exactly. Many people believe wasabi has sterilizing properties, much like people in the Middle Ages believed burning spicy spices could disinfect things. In reality, wasabi can only inhibit microbial growth. Aside from stimulating the appetite, it can also restrain microorganisms in food from multiplying..."
Antony was still going on at length when Mills had already started eating. He speared one "sushi" with his fork and swallowed it in one bite.
"My God." Mills let out a pained groan.
"I used wasabi root." Antony handed him a glass of water. "It's much spicier than the yellow mustard spread on hot dogs."
"Why didn't you say so earlier?" Mills clutched his wasabi-addled head, accusing him with tears in his eyes.
Antony smiled. "What brought you back to Los