I found this recipe for a Nevarran Hazelnut Torte in my belongings today. It was attached to a note from Emmrich, who thought I might appreciate it. The thought of making this cake for someone special crossed my mind, and it got me thinking about the idea of sharing something as personal as a family recipe with someone close to me.
My mother used to make this hazelnut torte every Wintersend. I remember the warm, nutty aroma that would fill our home as it baked in the oven. The delicate balance of flavors, the richness of the chocolate icing, and the hint of apricot liqueur all combined to create a truly decadent treat.
As I read through the recipe, I couldn't help but imagine making it for someone special. Someone who would appreciate the time and effort that goes into creating a dish like this. Someone who would savor each bite and understand the love and memories that are baked into every slice.
I've always been more comfortable with knives and poisons than with baking pans and measuring cups. But the idea of sharing something so personal, so intimate, with another person is strangely appealing. It's a vulnerability that I rarely allow myself to indulge in, a softness that is usually buried beneath layers of armor and stoicism.
Perhaps one day I'll find someone who will appreciate this gesture. Someone who will see beyond the cold, calculating assassin and into the heart of the man beneath. Someone who will understand that even demons have the capacity for tenderness and affection.
Until then, I'll keep this recipe close to my heart. A reminder of the warmth and love that once filled my home, and a promise of what could be if I ever find someone special enough to share it with.