Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah...
Zacara: ah hahahah --so you took their clothes?
Brahms: Yep, leave it to Wolfy..
Zacara: ohh that's rich! I gotta tell the guys about that. I'm sure Lucca will be happy to hear you have a feisty side hahah!
(Bach joins the laughter now)
Brahms: uh.. I hope you have better things to talk about than me.
Zacara: heh heh, what can I do - he inquires!
Bach: --So remind me, when is this bridge game of "doom" or whatever it is you and Richard are doing?
Zacara: Oh, hah - it's something about "honor lost," right?
Brahms(smirks): You guys should know; you're playing in it. Tomorrow night!
Bach(tosses dishes in sink): Ok, well I can do that. (the other two start cleaning up)
Zacara(to Bach): Hope you're ready to LOOSSSEE, buddy!
Bach: Oh please, you're talking to Johann Sebastian Bach. (melodramatic intake of breath in the style of Wagner) Why, the Heavens have never known a better sport when it comes to fugues and bridge -- I LIVE for games of skill and logic!
BrahmsandZacara: So do I!!
Bach(laughs): Well, Richard will be the odd one out.
Zacara: Yeah, and he's on your team - so, as I say - prepare to LOSE!
Bach(putting coat on): Oh, don't underestimate Richard.. There's an aspect of megalomania in any good bridge player, don't you think? I'm sure we'll give you a run for your money... I'm off to work now -
Zacara: yeap - ciao! (exeunt)
Brahms cleans up and is about to leave the kitchen when a dark figure pops out of the hallway; Brahms is startled--
Schumann: Psst! Young Eagle! Shhh!!
Brahms: aegh - Robert, what are you DOING!?
Schumann: shh shhh --- (looks around, wild eyes) I need you to run for me a mission of great metaphysical import!
Brahms: Ah, isn't it a little early for lawn gnomes?
Schumann: Nay, dear Friend, I speak of your impending trip to Mars!
Brahms: uh, Robert, this is getting to be a bit extreme... Now how exactly do you propose I go to Mars?
Schumann: By CAR, Man, dost the great Green and Gold Tiger suppose I've lost a clef?! (Brahms is trying to figure this out) Here. Take this guide. (pulls out a long scroll of paper, thrusts it at Brahms)
Brahms(reading): uh.... what... "mayonnaise"?.... "ginger extract" -- ohh, you mean the Mars food store!
Schumann(exasperated breath): Should I send you to the Mars above? Nay - by birthright to JUPITER! but not to the callous God of War..
Brahms(confused at list): What do you need all this stuff for? I dont even know what half of this is. I mean "radicchio"? sounds like a commedia dell'arte character!
Schumann: Indeed, the harlequin to my elegant mangosteen.
Brahms: Ok, I'm leaving now.
Schumann: Verily, you have the sense of a true wasabi warrior.
(Brahms nods, takes a deep breath, then goes back upstairs to get his car keys. Schuman stands, waits for his departure, then slowly turns to the rest of the kitchen, his eyes reflecting an eerie green light.)
Schumann(deliberately, sotto voce): Gentlemen... you can't fight in here... This is the war room... (Fade out)
When the second breakfast shift hits the kitchen at 6:45, they are so shocked they pause in the doorway. Robert Schumann is in the middle of the kitchen with all the utensils on the counter: a chopping board, butcher knives, sticks of butter, bowls, a roll of paper towels, orange liquid remains splashed on the floor: in short, a morning massacre. Schumann turns to the others as if this were normal, munches on mango.
Schumann: Hola.
Hildegard: Robert! What is this?!
Schumann: Don't use the oven for breakfast.
Ives: Who let the madman into the kitchen!
Schumann: I beg your pardon, gentlemen (to Hildegard) and Madam. However, I have rights to this particular domain for the full dirunal course in which we are currently residing. (Produces a piece of paper; Hildegard squints at it in confusion.)
Hildegard: Robert, this is a parking ticket.
Schumann: The Wise Prophet teaches us that the text is not of fixed meaning.
Hidegard: Well, as long as you are not appropriating the laundry machine. I need to do laundry today.
Wagner(steps forward into the kitchen): What is this nonsense? (sniffs) By Jove, Man, what unholy concoction are you brewing at this hour?
Schumann: No Feathery Foul was baked for a nobler cause.
Ives: Wait - - is this the PIGEON you had on the back porch!?
Schumann(mortally offended): That great Beast of Air is paired with the Fruits of the Earth when the Sun sets!
Wagner(in pantry): I'll have none of this mystical-hoo-hoo babble with my Wheaties today! (Enter Mussorgsky past Hildegard, Ives, and Tchaikovsky, who are still gathered in the doorway)
Muss: ah mango (picks up a stray piece off the counter, notes the bowl of oranges) we really need the citrus express in this household...
Hildegard: Robert, is it going to disturb you too much if we eat breakfast in here?
Schumann: Concentration is a mark of a good Chef, venture forth at will.
(Wagner opens refrigerator, his jaw drops)
Wagner: Wh -- what --
Schumann(turns, looks to Wagner evenly): Pineapple, Sir.
Wagner: THIS REFRIGERATOR IS AN ATROCITY! what is this -- Roses? bowls of -- what unrecognizable substance--
Schumann: --Pineapple, We do request.
Wagner: --of dubitable value do I hereby perceive? Why, the Madman has assembled a tropical fruit farm in our humble refrigerator!
Schumann(stamps foot): PINEAPPLE!! (Wagner turns to him imperiously) You may eat the remains.
Muss(leaning at counter, eating mango): ohh bribery.... but pineapple...
Hildegard(meanwhile, sits): Charles, will you be available to rehearse your scene tonight?
Ives: Are you going to write it first?!
Hildegard: Yes.
Tchaik: Ugh, how can I have a headache already -- oh wait, maybe it has to do with the screaming in the kitchen at this hour!
Schumann(still to W): Sir, I am in dire need of PINEAPPLE--
Wagner: YOU, Sir, have a great nerve to dispense orders as if Zeus from on high---
Schumann: --O, let not this holy mission be interrupted by the dallyings of ill-intentioned Philistines!!
Wagner: --as if Richard Wagner were only here to be designated the lowly harvester of a Madman's pineapples! of all the outrageo--
Tchaik: SHUT UP AND GIVE HIM THE BLOODY PINEAPPLE, RICHARD!!
Wagner(intake of breath, hands pineapple to Schumann)
Ives: Thank you, Pyotr.
Tchaik: GOD.
Muss: sgonna be a long day....and I left the vodka in the other room
Hildegard: Don't even--
Muss: itsok.. Arseny will have some.
Tchaik: That hot poet friend of yours? Is he coming over --when??
Muss(raises an eyebrow): around 2
Tchaik: DAMN, I'll be at school still!
Muss: yeah well there oughtto be some punishment for selling out to the legions of bad taste..
Tchaik: don't even start, it's too early for that..
(Ives and Hildegard exchange a confused glance, albeit perhaps for different reasons. Schumann meanwhile whacks the head of the pineapple with a large butcher knife. Juice sprays around, Wagner scowls at him.)
Wagner: You are always bombarding one with citrus fruit juice!! It's a downright abomination!
Schumann(deep resonant tones): Bromeliad, my dear fool.
Wagner: (sighs in frustration, grabs an orange from the bowl and storms out)
Around 8:30, Brahms returns, grocery bags dangling from his arms from the wrist up to the elbow. He collapses onto the table with them.
Brahms: uagh... only 11 today. 'losing it, Hannes..
Schumann(turns, wearing a flower-embroidered apron; light blue with red and orange blossoms): How now, Young Eagle?
Brahms: I got everything on the list except that 12-grain Como whatever bread -? They said they didn't have that.
Schumann: Of course not! Fie upon them! You must to the HILLS for that! QUICKLY - dally not! Time flees your hot embrace MAKE HASTE!
Brahms: what - what? Where am I going??
Schumann(walks over, rests his hand on Brahms's shoulder, speaks quietly in his ear): Over the great springs and across the much-traveled path you will have to inquire first from the master of the purple cloud mountain - the hermit who appears once every thousand years.. And be prepared for the cruelest of riddles. (nods, more to himself) Tho' you have a keen wit about you, fear not.
Brahms: Ok, but you're unpacking the groceries.
Schumann: All is well. (exit Brahms)
All continues well: Schumann has his hands in a vat-full of raw meat when he realizes he is missing an integral ingredient. He grabs his cell phone, dials Brahms.
Cut to a side street at the edge of town, Brahms is standing at a table covered in breads and pastry items. He appears to be arguing with the withered old woman who sits at the table. She is one of those old persons who speak expansively when dispensing wisdom, as all younger persons should stop and meditate upon their every word. She wears a large purple sack of a dress, and despite Brahms's growing annoyance, she seems amused at the whole affair.
OldWoman: No, no, Honey... I didn't ask you if you liked sweet rosemary fougasse, I said that's what you downright need to take. It suits you. You look like the sort of fellow who needs a little Rosemary in his life (winks lasciviously)
Brahms: But it's not for me --
OldWoman: --THESE BREADS --- (pauses dramatically) - These breads, you must understand, are not baked for the average consumer. And I grant, you are not the average consumer, AND YET, you must come to the enlightened Realization that these breads must speak to their consumer. This (holds up a loaf with both hands as if a sacrificial offering) Is Your Bread.
Brahms: It very well may be My Bread, but my friend sent me--
OldWoman: This Bread knows no mediation! (smiles cloyingly) Why should I worry about your friend's bread when you are here?
Brahms: I'm supposed to get (looks at list once more) "12-grain Como bread with sundried tomatoes and pine nuts." I can't go home without it!
OldWoman(deep intake of breath as if meditating; she pauses, eyes closed, exhales slowly, different tone): Mr. Brahms... you didn't mention the pine nuts the first time...
Brahms(has not introduced himself): uh... Well how many varieties of 12-grain Como bread with sun-dried tomatoes can there be?
OldWoman: Robert has much work yet to do, I see. (shakes head gravely) Very well, I shall make an exception for him.
(Brahms's cell phone rings)
Brahms: That's probably Robert now... (answers).... uh.... Yeah, I'm here... (glances at Old Woman) Grimelda?..
OldWoman: (smiles benignly)
Brahms: Uh - Robert says "good morrow" to you.
Grimelda(hand out towards phone): No more interlocuting for you. (takes phone) Eusebius? ............ Yes, my dear....I won't distract you from your work, as you must be very harried indeed to send your "Young Eagle" out here without proper instruction. I did not know it was He..... hm.. yes...... I see! ........ Best of luck. Of course. (hands phone back to Brahms, smiles)
Brahms: Robert? What is going ON?
(Cut to kitchen, Schumann has one hand still in the vat of meat)
Schumann: Sargent Green Pepper!
Brahms: They were not on the list!
Schumann: Verily, Man is flawed. And yet they must be had, I fear.
Brahms(sighs): Ok, Robert... this meal better be damned good.
Schumann: A comrade in need...
Brahms: I'll stop by the Mars on the way back.
Schumann: We much appreciate your loyalty. Do smile at Grimelda. I'm off (hangs up)
Cut back to Brahms and Grimelda. He tries to smile as he gives her money for the Como bread.
Grimelda: (hands him loaf) And, (takes the infamous Rosemary Fougasse) Your Bread.
Brahms: Well, I don't really have a lot--
Grimelda: Shh! Take it.
20 minutes later, Schumann seizes his phone, dials ravenously.
Schumann: TUMERIC POWDER, MAN!!
Brahms(at store, smirking): I'm not asking... You're just lucky I was still here.
Brahms returns soon and delivers the goods to Schumann He rips the packaging off the tumeric powder, unscrews the lid so that it flies across the counter, then tilts the bottle so slightly, and taps it once with his index finger. A light dusting of yellow coats the meat concoction.
Schumann: AHHHHH!!
Brahms(folds arms): You called me just for that?
Schumann: No, the other peppers... the greens....
Brahms: You need help chopping them?
Schumann: NO! (wide eyed) That is a precision art, my young friend, you must be apprenticed for years to learn it properly...
(Enter Strozzi, sniffing)
Strozzi: mmmm smells good in here, Robert, what are you cooking?
Schumann: Roast Duck.
Brahms(confused, points at meat in bowl): I hope thats not duck..
Schumann: That is ground veal.
Strozzi: What are you making there - meatloaf too?!
Schumann(same tone): And ground pork.
Strozzi: Ooh, fancy
Schumann: And ground beef. 80/20.
Brahms: What else? Pigeon?
Schumann: Pssscht! That is the evening's delight.
Strozzi: Good, duck for lunch, I can deal with this. Especially after salmon last night... (smiles to herself)
Brahms: He cooked you salmon...(faint sound of distaste, exit)
Strozzi: So what's all this for, Robert? A romantic dinner for Clara?
Schumann: Indeed. But we'll have no morality play for the play.
Strozzi: I'm sure we can rehearse elsewhere..
The rest of the morning passes quietly, until Schumann remembers something else he needs. Schumann(calls through the house, distressed): WORCESTERSHIRE SAUCE!!
Mussorgsky(comes toddling in, his friend the Count Arseny Golenischev-Kutuzov follows): whaddyaneed that for?
Schumann: For the fruits of the earth.
Arseny(sniffs): Is that mango sauce?
Schumann: Indeed.
Mussorgsky: i hope yourenot putting worcestershire sauce in that
(Enter Brahms, faint scowl)
Brahms: ....what?
Schumann: Worcestershire Sauce.
Brahms: (folds arms, sniffs slowly,eyes narrowed, lower lip out)
Schumann(big eyed, like a small child, wrings hands): But Hannes! no nobler cause!....Don't lose Heart!
Brahms: (turns, goes off down hall, mumbling to self) i see how it is... get a girlfriend, dump best friend... only keep him around for running errands...
(Mussorgsky meanwhile takes the deck of cards,sits at table, starts dealing)
Muss: gin rummy
Arseny(sits, produces bottle): my family always used to call it vodka rummy..
Muss: nah thats late night talk (they chuckle, Schumann continues cooking, humming some inner voice of a composition)
Arseny: So you know the guys are angry now at you
Muss: yea?
Arseny: they think youre too uncouth..
Schumann(suddenly): Potbellied penguins!
Muss: uh - yeah thatsright robert
Arseny: And what you said about Alexander's string quartet..
Muss: whathehells he go writinga string quartet for! he thinks hes sadyk pasha!
Schumann(turns slowly): Are there Muslim composers?
Muss: nah thatsjust whati call pyotr
(Schumann furrows brow)
Arseny: Long story!
Muss(to Arseny): youdontthink that do you?
Arseny: What, that you were wrong to criticize him? Of course not! What good is a poet for the enterprise if you write string quartets!! hahahaha!
Muss(takes swig from bottle): right
Schumann: Jemima Puddleduck. (opens oven door, peeks, smell invades room)
Arseny: mm, Mr. Schumann, are you pairing that duck with that mango sauce?
Schumann: Prospero says it is so.
Arseny: I should come over here more often!
Muss: its true..
So the trio spends a pleasant half hour in the kitchen before Schumann realizes he's forgotten something else. He whips out the cell, opens it with a one-handed flourish.
Schumann: Hi-O Silver! (dials)
Cut to Brahms at the Mars food store standing in check out line, checking out some girl in the next line over. He grumbles at the sound of his phone.
Brahms: What?!
Schumann: Milk and White Chocolate Swirled Chips!!
Brahms(looks at ceiling, arms up in Godly appeal): You know what, Robert? I'm just going to stay in the store. O-K? (realizes he has girl's attention) I'm staying here until you can remember everything else you need. You seem to be going in half-hour chunks. At this rate you'll remember another .... (does math on left hand). SEVEN more items before dinner time! So I'm just going to park it here until you can sit down and remember them!
Schumann: but - but-
Brahms(pacing around): go over your recipes! (other people in line are looking at him now)
Schumann: but--
Brahms: It's a service to humanity and the environment if I don't go wasting all that energy driving home and back ten times!
Schumann: but-
Brahms(is now in vicinity of closed check out line, props himself on conveyor belt) I'm just going to sit right here and read a -- (glances over rack) -- Cosmo until you remember everything!
Schumann: agh-
Brahms: No aghs, just do it. Don't call me back until you have something else. Tchuess! (hangs up; glances across papers: one headline reads "Heatwave Upon Us: how to Prepare" but Brahms picks up the Weekly World News, whose headline is "Opera Composer Knows Better than Seamstress!")
Back to kitchen, Arseny and Muss are watching Schumann in droll fascination. Schumann looks as if he's seen a ghost.
Schumann: I fear for the children.
Arseny: Vodka? (holds out bottle. Schumann considers it, then crosses the room smartly and takes a long gulp as if cold water on a scorching day)
Muss: good man
Schumnn(clears throat, wipes off mouth with sleeve - his eyes are watery): I took a hearty gulp. They say it comes from much drinking, not from great thirst.
Arseny: oh no - everything's too simple for you Germans..
Schumann: But no time for that, my ducks must be in order! (returns to counter)
Muss: so theyre really madat me?
Arseny: Its more like they think you're a little.... hm... what's the proper word... daft?
Muss: well thatsok (yawns) maybe iam a little daft. arentwe all?
Arseny: all we artists are...
(Enter Hildegard, clipboard and pen in hand)
Hildegard: Hi guys - Modest, are you available for scene consultation? (sits next to him)
Muss: apparently
Arseny: capital. Maybe it will improve my chances of winning this game.. (winks)
HIldegard: So I was thinking that the best way to portray the sin of incompetence would be a group situation where the Incompetence hurts the others.
Muss: ahh.. I wasthinking more like youjust let him play oneofhis compositions..
Schumann: DO I have a witness from the congregation!!
Arseny(amused): What is going on here?
Hildegard: My morality play - We ran out of deadly sins for housemates, so Charles is the newly-invented sin of Incompetence.
Muss: hey its a new sin fora new era
Hildegard: Although I have a feeling it's been around since the human race.
Muss: like that time he tried to play music for Hickmans grandkids i heard that wasa disaster
Hildegard: Oh... that would be a good scene. I'm sure the children wouldn't mind being in a play. And we wouldn't have to rehearse it!
Schumann(gasps): THE CHILDREN!!
One hour later at the Mars, we find Brahms trying to explain to an apron-clad employee why he's eaten 10 pieces of the sample mushroom brie.
Brahms: --don't have to keep coming back.. and it just so happened that I .. uh... got hungry (the employee nods, unimpressed) I haven't had a chance to eat since I've been running around on his errands all day! and ...after all there's no warning sign limiting one's number of samples here (his cell phone rings) Look, I bet that's my friend now..Hello? ........MILK?! How'd you not think of Milk??
Employee: Look, Sir, can I just ask you to leave?
Brahms(covers phone): I haven't paid for anything yet - and the brie I ate hardly amounts to any more than a dollar fifty --
Employee: Sir, the reason samples are called "samples" is so you can "sample" them, not have LUNCH on them. Now you're having a phone conversation -- you can't just "move in," this is not a Super Walmart, you know!
Brahms: Look, I'll just buy a pack of the damned brie, ok?! (grabs a pack, throws into basket, stalks off) GROSSER GOTT! dieser Bloedmann will mi' verruecken treiben!!... Ok, Robert, I'm getting the milk.
(Cut to Kitchen, Schumann on phone looking concerned)
Schumann: Avoid wine today, Hannes...... The bread and cheese were horrors enough. Mine own active imagination frightens me with the result should you try to purchase the fruits of the vinyard...
The rest of the afternoon goes more smoothly. Cut now to Schumann opening the pantry.
Schumann: Ah... a cornucopia of color...Hildegard's herbs. (he means the top shelf, which has a multitude of colored cannisters) Nein, I need that magic not. (directs his gaze lower, past the cereals, past the canned foods ) Ah! Yes, basmati...
By the time the work force has arrived home, Schumann is taking the roast pigeon out of the oven. Brahms has returned from the store and all is going according to plan. The piano room is set up in romantic fashion for dinner: table for two, candles, fresh wild flowers in a glass. Stapled in the doorway is an impromptu curtain of maroon silk (stolen from Wagner's closet). All is clean, ready for guests- but back in the kitchen-
Brahms: You need any help, Robert?
Ives: YOU'RE STILL COOKING!! (inspects) Is that the pigeon?
Schumann(admiring the bird): Tho' not noble by birth, the bird overcomes its lowly state and soars through the culinary Gates O Heav'n! (Doorbell - he gasps) Oh! The Divine Chiarina is come! (to Brahms) Welcome her, I must tend to the cuisine!
Brahms(grumbles): ... now the butler.... (exit)
Ives: So, can we have the kitchen now?
Zacara: Charlie, why don't we just get pizza?
Ives(smirks): All right.. (exeunt)
Schumann(takes a deep breath): All must be spun out.... First the tone must be set! (brings out the infamous 12-grain Como bread with sundried tomatoes and pine nuts, now on a beautiful plate decorated about the edge with fresh parsley) Then the introduction.. (ducks to the side counter, where a fondue pot contains simmering chocolate; he sniffs) the ornamentation.. (looks about in pantry, produces a bottle of dark rum) Ahhh.. (lets a few drops fall in) Always led by taste... (opens refrigerator) Ahhh.. Earth's children....
Meanwhile, Brahms and Clara are in the piano room, having a pleasant discussion about Robert's music, since Brahms has, in the presence of Clara, forgotten that he was supposed to be grumpy.
Clara: -but the versatility, and such a depth of spirit - but I shouldn't go on, I'm a bit.... biased.
Brahms: no, it's true. would that I had such.. facility of invention.
Clara: But Robert speaks very highly of your music!
Brahms: Sometimes he is overly enthusiastic, I think. (smiles) But at least he has been writing more piano music lately...
Clara: Ah, yes. (goes to piano) This - little character piece has haunted me all week. (starts to play)
Back in the kitchen, Schumann has laid out three courses worth of food. He stands back, takes another deep breath, removes his blue and orange apron revealing a smart evening suit. Schumann(looks to ceiling): May the bright light of culinary delicacy guide our evening's humble dalliances!
(Then he takes the tray with bread and wine in his hands, and slowly walks out.)
Soon Schumann sticks his head through the maroon curtain. He sees Clara playing, unaware of the world, enraptured by the music; he does not notice Brahms, still on the sofa, also looking transported, gaze directed at Clara. Of course Schumann waits for the music to end before entering as if into a church.
Schumann: Tis not my music when you play it - tis ours! (she looks up, beams at him)
Brahms(suddenly hops off sofa): right - I, was, uh - right, leaving now. bye! (makes hasty retreat)
Schumann(walks to the table, sets down tray): Free with meal! The pride of the pride, the twelve-grain Como bread with basil, garlic, pine nuts and the necessity of necessities, the oregano, parmesan, and extra virgin olive oil!
Clara: Oh, it's beautiful. Fresh out of the oven too!
Montage time:
Schumann bringing in the next course, much to Clara's surprise
Schumann: The appetizer! Earth's children in water's grip! (he carries a tray with wet slimy fruits: peaches, pineapples, tangerines, plums, mangosteen, dragonfruit, kiwi, watermelon, cantaloupe, and pomegranate seeds surrounding a bowl of chocolate fondue. Two little fondue sticks delicately grace the side.)
Clara: This is the appetizer! What's dessert?
Schumann: All in good time! bon appetit! (picks up fondue stick like conductor's baton)
----
Schumann bringing out the next tray:
Schumann: Behold! Spirits of air and tongues of fire... (Another tray with the chilled duck barbecued in mango salsa with sliced seasoned mango and cranberries on a bed of raw spinach with roasted, sugared pecans and spiced couscous with soybeans served with liberally spiced vinaigrette. Soon they are eating)
Clara: This is marvelous - I didn't realize you had such a wide range of tastes, Robert!
Schumann: Only recently have I ever learned to taste! It is all owing to you..
----
He appearing again through the silk curtain-
Schumann: Antipasta "interlude:" Ramen. (he sets down two microwave cups of Ramen noodles; Clara laughs)
----
Schumann getting up and taking the Ramen cups away.
Clara: There's more??!
Schumann: Oh indeed, m'dear. The main dish!
--
The main dish is on a huge tray with a cover, which Schumann pulls off in a flourish. There is the roast pigeon in a pineapple shell, accompanied by vegetarian green curry in a coconut shell.
Schumann: Beasts of the air and fruits of the earth!
Clara: It's beautiful! (pauses in admiration) How are going to EAT all this?
Schumann: (smiles, shrugs)
----
Finally, he is bringing out dessert
Schumann: Sweetness scourged by fire and restored by water! (he pulls out a kitchen torch)
I am pleased that you knew to wear nonflammable clothing, but then two hearts such as ours hardly need verbal communion. (he sets down two creme brulees, not yet bruleed. He bows to the two bowls, as if greeting a Japanese comrade)
Clara: Do you... want any help with that?
Schumann: .... no. (torches the two, with his free hand out in the air behind him; Clara applauds, amused)
-----
Schumann picking up from the tray the next part of dessert
Schumann: having been too warmed, we need the healthy restoration...Thai dessert soup . (he produces two more bowls of sweetened soybean curd and almond-flavored tapioca in rosewater and coconut milk garnished with mint and edible rose petals; Clara is astonished)
Clara: I'm quite full, Robert!
Schumann: Ah, well. (looks sadly at the bowls) They will find a home. (suddenly attacks one with his spoon, tastes) Ahh, like the feathery wings of a dove. There's something more yet!. (disappears)
---
Schumann returning with another tray.
Schumann: Your Take-home gift: Meatloaf.
Clara(laughs): Another homemade product? Robert, how much cooking have you done?!
Schumann: None at all, or so I feel. Shall we take a stroll about the park?
Clara: We'd better, before I fall asleep (smiles at him; they get up to leave; Schumann offers her his arm; as they are walking out he looks back at the dinner table and winks.)