"Just tell me what the rat wants to cook."

You've come this far, right, Colette? And you've always said you believed in it, that 'anyone can cook', and here le bon Dieu has decided to put that belief to the severest test possible… and I am not a hypocrite. I stand by my beliefs.

But it was hard when the little, open-faced creature pulled the card for a farm recipe out of the folder.

"Ratatouille?" she asked him. Now she knew she didn't like the idea. "It's a peasant dish. Are you sure you want to serve this to Ego?"

The little creature smiled and nodded.

She was about to object further, but her Alfredo nodded, and she was in this far already, and hey, it was a dream and she'd wake up soon, anyway, right? Right? So, shrugging, she set to work.

It only gave her pause for a moment when she realized she'd spoken to the rat as she would to a human colleague. This had to be the silliest idea of all time, speaking to a rat as if he were a human!

But there was something about him…

The way he sliced the courgettes, like a sculptor, non, like an alchemist, so that she was inspired to slide the blade through the flesh just so, searching for the nirvana he was so obviously finding in the juices, the aroma that made the little nose quiver with delight when he thought she wasn't looking…

The reverence with which he treated food, the way he cherished and inhaled the aroma of the simplest morsel as though it were a rare treat – and, she thought with a tiny pang, perhaps, to a rat, it was…

The way he slotted every perfect slice of vegetables into the oven dish, with a speed and accuracy that made her stop what she was doing and just look on in amazement…

The way he stirred like an artist painting a canvas…

That burnished sheen he achieved on the top of his luxuriant, thick tomato sauce, made up of thousands of miniscule droplets of olive oil glowing orange just under the surface with the fire of hammered brass…

The delicacy of his little hands, placing every touch with the reverence of a high priest on an altar...

And, most of all, the way he looked up at her, inviting her to share his delight…

She was hooked.

By the end of the evening, it wasn't just Alfredo she was in love with.