#cuisinier

[kolza12]

[mariophotographies]

Suisse by Mario. H. "La pause méritée"

[vieuxmetiers]

Le cuisiner de l'Hôtel Montendre, Charente Maritime

[o-link]

Design Cuisine

[batbobsession]

Positive-ish Things that Happened During the Curse

I feel that I’ve made a lot of posts about how terrible the curse was for the staff (I’m not mistaken in doing so, the curse was definitely bad for everyone) but that little voice in my head got me thinking: what if I made a happy post about it?  So without further ado, here are a few headcanons about the curse that will (hopefully) make you smile.

Chip teaches Froufrou some new tricks.  Garderobe and Cadenza had already taught him the basics, like “sit,” “stay,” “quiet,” and a few other general ones, but Chip decides that “roll over,” “play dead,” “hide and seek,” and a few other fun ones should be added.

In the first few days, Plumette and the other maids cleaned the entirety of the castle. Obsessively. And while this served as a healthy distraction, it was also a way to remind themselves that they weren’t forgotten. It was their own rebellion against the curse, and everyone thanked them for it. The only two places left avoided were the West Wing (for obvious reasons) and the East Wing, because Adam forbade anyone go near it after his mom died.

Cuisinier had control over most of the knives in the kitchen, and with some help from more mobile residents, he carved toys for Chip and Froufrou. 

Yes, telekinesis exists. Cogsworth confirmed that some objects are just objects, so I imagine Mrs. Potts can push her own cart, Lumiere can light every candle in the castle, Plumette and the other maids can control the sheets and pillows, Chip can use his saucer like a skateboard, Garderobe can make a dress with a thought, etc.

On the subject of dog toys, the Madame wasted no time sewing little trinkets filled with rice and beans from the kitchens. Though she couldn’t leave the East Wing, Mrs. Potts provided the necessary materials on her cart. It was through this love of crafting (and the precious dog, of course) that Garderobe and Cuisinier, the two stationary residents, became good friends.

They all became snow artists over time. Think about it: the whole castle is blanketed in an enchanted winter, which means an enormous amount of snow. As Lumiere put it, they were doing nearly nothing before Belle arrived. But I can imagine that the staff members--Chip, Chapeau, Lumiere, and Plumette especially--learned how to make the best snow-sculptures ever.

And for those who immediately call baloney on Lumiere being good at it because of his candles, he can and does put them out. And even so, you know you can form ice by melting away parts of it, right? Imagine him making abstract, curving shapes out of icicles, or beautiful, water-like patterns in ice blocks. 

Not to mention, any time Chip asks for a snowball fight, the team who has Chapeau with them always wins. And it’s unfair. But it’s fun.

There have been times when Chip has been buried in the snow. It’s all in good fun, but Chapeau insists on watching him every time. After all, porcelain/fine china can crack if exposed to enough cold.

There are some dogs out there that aren’t smart enough to recognize their own reflections, so I like to think Froufrou has no idea what’s going on. Like sure, his mamma and papà look different, but they smell the same, so what’s the big deal?

I think I’ve mentioned this in other posts, but during pre-curse times, Lumiere hosted little midnight parties with music and dancing. He keeps that up, obviously, and after the curse falls on the castle, those meetings descend into chaos (since the walls of the ballroom have playable instruments on them, and the maids can fly). Chapeau usually provides the music, and sometimes the maestro joins in (when he feels up to it--after all, he’s incomplete without his dear one). 

Cogsworth hates it, but has absolutely no say on the matter, because he’s outvoted by everyone else.

Lumiere could and did light candles from far away. Maybe it’s just the 1991 version knocking on my brain, but I love the idea of Lumiere just blowing out one of his flames and then having all of the candles in his vicinity flaring up instantly. You need a ballroom lit? Give him five seconds. Done.

Plumette and the other maids tested their wings. On a calm day, they just decided to see how high they could fly, and Plumette made it pretty high before the winds picked up. The quest to find her around the castle grounds was pretty funny...for everyone but Plumette. And Lumiere. Poor thing went cold with worry. 

Of course they found her, and of course she wasn’t hurt, but from a bird’s-eye perspective, seeing the staff scramble to “catch the maids” just makes me laugh so much.

Under Mrs. Potts’ strict instruction, Chapeau taught Garderobe and Cadenza Adam’s favorite lullaby, the one his mother sang to him when he was little. If the Beast slept inside the castle, whoever was closest, and whoever was awake, would play it for him. He’d rage and silence them if he was awake, so in that way, his mother visited him in his dreams. It was a sign of the servants relearning to care.

The first big reunion with the beast and the servants was a few weeks into the curse: 

For the first few weeks, the Beast was so filled with self-loathing he would avoid the staff on a daily basis, killing things in the forest and eating them, like a real animal. Once Mrs. Potts and Chapeau found out that this was what he got up to when he left, Cogsworth nearly had a stroke and put his foot down. The Beast was doing the exact opposite of what he was supposed to be doing; disappearing into some wild thing was absolutely unacceptable. 

They didn’t pull out every stop. To do so would mean pretending like nothing was wrong, and they weren’t about to start that. But they made him dinner--a childhood favorite--and locked the doors of the castle, forcing him to eat what they made. They hovered, out of striking distance, but present in case he needed them. 

He ate. He trudged up the stairs to the West Wing. Looked at the rose. And cried. His first good cry in years, one that eventually lulled him to sleep. 

He never missed dinner after that. 

tagging @lumiereswig and @lumiereandcogsworth​ because I feel they’ll enjoy this

[francepittoresque]

GASTRONOMIE | Gâteau de Pierrefonds : son grand retour dans l’Oise ➽ https://bit.ly/3h1VulN Après le gâteau de Compiègne, Jacky Delplanque, passionné d'histoire de France et de sa gastronomie, remet au goût du jour celui de Pierrefonds, un genre de biscuit moelleux aux amandes qu'Alfred Chartier, grand cuisinier de l'hôtel de l'Enfer, avait créé au début du XXe siècle pour les touristes de passage au château

[lumiereswig]

What about when the staff/Belle/Adam were all kids?

belle had her nose in a book half the time/all the time and maurice was seriously concerned about having to get her glasses until one day she looked up with a thousand-mile stare and said “i’m going to invent contacts” and she did. as a 9-year old

adam..well, we all know how his childhood went down. T R A U MA. but trauma (while it feels like it can fill up a whole lot) doesn’t fill up the whole of it; adam’s joy and hope and life kept springing up, like sprouts through concrete, little odd wonders like the cloth-bound books in the library and puppet shows that came through town and wondering, ever just wondering, if anything truly miraculous would ever happen to him

lumiere was a harum-scarum young brat on the dirty streets of paris, scaring the poor wits out of his parents and yodeling songs to the never-caring moon while perched on the roof of a bakery. (but a lady in one of the houses nearby did care for his singing and always wondered forever after what became of him, earning her the world-record of the only lady who remembered lumiere during the curse for no reason beyond loving a young boy’s singing)

cogsworth was one of those boys who Collected Things. stamps, toads, rocks, coins, all carefully delineated on little neatly labeled shelves; a little room, a little museum, all his own. in his own little wonderful world where he didn’t have to hear children screaming or roads bumping or his dreadful aunt hortense going on about what she had for breakfast, again, her screechy voice coursing over horrible things

garderobe was incredibly focused as a child, knowing from the start just what she wanted to do, and she regrets it sometimes because wouldn’t it have been fun to dabble as a scientist? to have a little horse-girl phase? but no from the beginning when she saw a ballerina to the very moment she was on that stage herself, and on and on forever after, all she ever wanted was a polished stage and the flood of lights turned her way and people, wonderful people, hanging on her every note

cadenza never felt safe as a little boy, he was always looking over one shoulder, he never felt he had that person he could lock his entire self into, who would accept all of him—the neuroses, the long rambling spools of thought, the hyper obsession and the vaulting, babbling ecstasy of a great composition—and feeling unsafe like that eats away at you, it becomes a kind of prison in its way, and he always felt a little safer with keys beneath his fingertips but it wasn’t until he met garderobe that he found another person can really be a new doorway into happiness

plumette had a childhood surrounded by love, her soft mama with the perfume that smelled like snowdrops, her soft lovely aunts, the grandmama with the crystal, cut-glass animals dotting her window ledge; the view of beautiful labyrinths stretching out away from the palace, her brothers running down the halls yelling, paper cranes in their hands, sending the birds flying down the banisters. and then dark plague—creeping silence—a run, alone, out of paris, through the woods, brambles scratching at her feet. finding that new homes can be built, with new families in new places, even while old ones are treasured.

chapeau found that everything, as a child, was too LOUD. too much shrieking about ribbons. too much squawking about hats. his mother was kind and she tried to hallow out quiet places for him in the millinery, but he found more joy in making those quiet spaces for himself—making himself a quiet temple, in the end, a silent song all to himself.

cuisinier dipped himself into everything as a child—he tried different languages, different lives, as if they were soups, and could warm him up from the blood out. it was only while chopping radishes at a back-alley bar that he found out how alive being the warmth could make you feel—not just waiting for something to raise you up, but raising up everything around you by being a pOWERHOUSE (at chopping radishes)

mrs potts grew up surrounded by lavender fields, always feeling like she could be a little better than this, see a little farther than just the sheep pasture and the back meadow. she loved her family, so, so much—but always felt like she wanted to explore the world, just a little, and find a corner of it to make entirely her own. her hands were always busy, a little something tucked away just for her—embroidering her aprons in spots no one could see, knitting little handwarmers as she waits for the kettle to boil. making the world a little brighter, just by the work of her two small hands.

[walker-diaries]