Week Two (Humility) - For Want of Smoked Beef
Draco Malfoy was of the firm belief that he could do any task he set his mind to—well, with the exception of all that “being a Death Eater” business, but he’d very graciously put that behind him.
Lately, Draco had been dreaming of smoked brisket.
He and Granger had sampled the delicacy in Texas whilst on The Great Granger-Malfoy World Tour—otherwise known as their honeymoon, and he believed he could recreate it. In fact, he believed he could do it better. Muggles made the dish, after all, and American muggles at that.
How difficult could it be?
Granger had no faith in him.
“It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable, Draco,” Granger said, after he’d brought up the prospect of granting the house-elves the night off and giving it a go. “I just think you ought to—oh, I don’t know—research how to smoke meat before sacrificing our dinner.”
Granger and her bloody research!
Draco didn’t need to research how the muggles cooked brisket because he wouldn’t be doing it the muggle way. While he’d made leaps and bounds on his opinions of muggles, he didn’t think their televisions and microwaves could hold a Lumos to magic.
He had the perfect plan to recreate the rich smokey flavour using none of those strange muggle cookery machines—all he needed was his wand.
Wisps of smoke rose from the crusty black lump resting on a platter at the centre of their dining room table.
“I hate to say I told you so,” Granger said.
“Liar.” Draco slumped into his chair, folding his arms petulantly. “You love it.”
As was her right, he supposed.
The meat—if it could still be called that—seemed to mock him. He’d been wrong.
Some things really were better done by muggles.