Chapter 8
“When selecting licorice for a sweet tisane, it is best to cut down the youngest and liveliest of green shoots, for if one selects dry or old stalks, a sour, undrinkable batch is guaranteed.”
—From the salvaged notes of A., apprentice in the kitchens of Fontainebleau c. 1530s
The news smacked like a punch to the mouth. Henri’s gums felt empty of teeth. He wasn’t sure he was ever going to be able to smile again. When he arrived in Paris it wasn’t the Paris he remembered. It was in the air, in the cracks between the buildings. When he looked to the sky, it burned with the smoke of a hundred new chimneys. He could no longer find the curling ribbon from Le Mollusque. He was much too big to run back to his auntie anyway. Grown. If he walked into the inn and not a hint of recognitio
