For the first time in a very long time, Terry was actually cooking, not just throwing together the mandatory, semi-edible mass of least resistance.
"Tarragon. Do I even have any tarragon?" he
thought as his saucepan began to show signs of boiling. Fumbling through
his mostly abandoned spice rack, he found a pinch of flakes left in the
bottom of an old spice container. The flakes had retained sufficient
potency to fill the kitchen with a distinctive, not quite licorice aroma
when sprinkled into the simmering brew. Terry was not sure if tarragon
was his favorite or least favorite spice, but good and evil often lay
together well in a saucepan.