Dragos Takes A Holiday

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One evening after a particularly brutal day at work, Dragos leaned against the refrigerator and watched Pia cook dinner.

They had personal chefs. They could order takeout from any restaurant in New York, but these days, more often than not, Pia chose to cook. Although she was a lifelong dedicated vegan, she had overcome her revulsion for handling meat for his sake. He loved to watch her pore over recipes with her tongue between her teeth, and he enjoyed every meal she cooked for him, which she often set in front of him with an air of triumph and relief.

After preparing a sirloin roast with carrots and potatoes in one pan, she placed a strange-looking lump in a smaller, separate pan and set vegetables around that too.

Dragos asked, “What on earth is that?”

“It’s a vegan harvest roast.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, lover, someone should have taught you this by now. The words ‘vegan’ and ‘roast’ do not go together in the same sentence.” He eyed the unappetizing lump with skepticism. “What’s it made of?”

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