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Mousse au Citron  3


            beautiful, in fact, that Margot almost felt protective of her, keeping her in the back of the
            bakery like an evil stepmother would keep a princess locked into a high tower, away from
            herself so as to not feel threatened and away from men so that she could have a fair chance
            to get some.

            But Margot wasn’t threatened by Tali.  It was unusual for  Margot to feel threatened
            by anything.  She wasn’t a conventional beauty, she thought, her features sharp and at
            times almost masculine, but she was confident.  It was her overwhelming confidence that
            attracted men to her, powerful, rich, and handsome men like Aubin, like ants to sugar.  In
            addition to her French-conceived confidence, Margot was admired by many for her ability
            to dress extremely well.  And being able to say that in a fashion capital like Paris is a true
            compliment.  She always looked put-together, often wearing low cut blouses to accentuate
            her long, pale neck and her short, chin-length hair, which had always been curly and always
            blonde, regardless of the adamant wishes of her and her hairstylist.  Her hair, like Margot
            herself, had a mind of its own.
            The three French hens looked out the window of the bakery they had called home for
            nearly two years.  Each of their gazes directed at the ominous structure that taunted them
            between the legs of the Eiffel Tower.  The neon sign obnoxiously flashing “Delroy Doux”
            was enough to make Tali close the shutters of The Two Macarons.  Even the beauty of the
            snow wasn’t worth putting up with the constant reminder that in a mere three days, barring
            a miracle in which they would have to make months’ worth of revenue in a matter of several
            dozen hours, all three of them would be out of a job and out on the streets.  This thought,
            simultaneously crossing their minds like a grotesquely choreographed dance, made them
            synchronize their next movements, three spoons plummeting head first into what was left
            of the bowl of lemony mousse tucked away in Margot’s Lanvin-skirted lap.

            Mousse au Citron


            Serves 10 (or 3-4 worried women)

            Ingredients

              •  8 eggs
              •  1 ¼ cups sugar + 1 teaspoon
              •  ½ teaspoon salt
              •  4 lemons, for their juice and zest
              •  1 cup heavy cream
              •  1 ¼ teaspoons vanilla extract
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