by Alex Bailey
She had never heard of tapioca flour, “How do you know so much about this?”
“Celiac disease is taken seriously in Italy. I worked in a few different restaurants and learned about the ingredients there and how to handle them separately.”
“What do you mean?” Ann asked.
Daniel explained as he measured ingredients. “You don’t want to cross-contaminate the ingredients, so you have to keep everything clean and separate. For example, I can’t use the same measuring cup to measure regular flour as I do for the tapioca flour, because you can get traces of flour on the measuring cup and contaminate it. Even something as innocent as sticking a knife into peanut butter and smoothing it onto bread, then sticking it back into the jar to get more peanut butter can contaminate the entire jar.”
She scribbled notes on a pad while he talked and as he added ingredients, she added those to the recipe.
Ann was amazed at how quickly Daniel whipped up a batch of test cookies. He put them in the oven and they waited for the first batch.
When they came out of the oven, he let them cool for a few minutes then asked Ann to try one. She picked it up and it crumbled in her hand, but she tossed a bit into her mouth anyway. “They taste great! But I don’t think this will work being so brittle. They have to get coated and fried.”
“Crap! I forgot the xanthan gum.”
“What?” She grinned. “Nothing illegal, I hope!”
“Nah, I gave that up a long time ago,” he said with a smirk. “It’ll hold this masterpiece together.” He grabbed a small jar from a cabinet and threw some white powder in the bowl of dough and placed another tray into the oven. He scraped the crumbs of the first pan into the garbage.
“Hey! You could have served that over ice cream or something,” Ann scoffed.
“Great idea,” he nodded, “but too late now.”
When he took the next batch out of the oven, Daniel lifted a cookie off the sheet and laid it on a napkin to cool. He handed it to Ann, but she was too impatient. The aroma of freshly-baked cookies overwhelmed her and she snatched it up and took a quick bite. Although it burned her mouth, she didn’t care; the taste was exactly like her grandmother’s cookie. “It’s perfect!” Her eyes watered from the heat.
“Wow, crying over it? Must be good, but that’s only half the battle. We still have the deep-fried half. It’s good we jumped that hurdle though.” Daniel scraped the cookies onto a dish and put them in the freezer. He slid another pan full of dough blobs into the oven. While he waited for the cookies in the freezer to cool and in the oven to bake, he grabbed a bowl from the cabinet above his head and threw in various items. He whipped it with a fork and waited a few minutes.
Ann’s head swam as she watched how fast Daniel was moving. She didn’t want to break his concentration, so she didn’t try to make small talk.
Once the cookies were cooled, Daniel grabbed one, dipped it into the batter and lowered it into the hot oil.
The sizzling bubbles told Ann the oil was hot enough, and when the cookies were crispy golden brown, she wondered if they would come out all crumbly like Daniel’s first attempt at the dough.
When he pulled the cookie up with a slotted spoon and gently laid it on paper towels to cool, it remained intact. Ann was hopeful it would not fall apart. She let it cool slightly longer, so her tongue wouldn’t be scorched again and then broke off a small bite.
She was elated! The cookies were every bit as good as her grandmother’s recipe. She took a larger piece and Daniel grabbed the rest and shoved it into his mouth.
Daniel’s head bobbed up and down. “Yo! These are some kinda…” he scrunched his face as if he was in pain, but Ann knew better. “Outrageous!”
Ann nodded in agreement. “Thanks! I think I can make them. I won’t need to buy too many extra ingredients and they’re just as easy as the original recipe. Thanks Daniel, I really appreciate your help.”
She began to gather dishes to put into the sink, when Daniel scolded her, “What are you doing, woman?”
“I’m going to wash the dishes; I can’t very well ask for your help and then leave you with this mess.”
“Oh no you are not. You’re not touching my kitchen. Now you just take a stool over there and I’ll cook you up a buffalo burger. Besides, I need the dishes just as they are—I’m going to make another batch and offer them as dessert of the day.”
“Really? You like them that much?” Ann was impressed her recipe was held in such high esteem.
“You bet. These will go over great with the lunch crowd.” He pulled out the marinated burgers and threw one on the hot grill.
“Wow, that’s special. Dessert of the day sounds pretty impressive. What other desserts have made the cut?” She wanted to see how her cookies stacked up. Was her cookie in the same category as hazelnut crème brulee or was he talking apple pie?
“This is it, I just made it up.” He wiped his hands on his apron and gathered a plate and bun for the burger. After he opened a bag of beet chips and poured a pile onto Ann’s plate next to the open bun, he asked, “You like spicy?”
“Absolutely!” The beefy aroma made its way to Ann. She suddenly felt a hunger pang.
“Okay then.” He grabbed a bowl from the refrigerator and slathered a spoonful of golden sauce onto the bun, placed a large romaine lettuce leaf on top of the dressing, then placed several bright red tomato slices.
Leaning forward in her chair to get a better look, Ann asked, “So, what is that stuff?”
“Spicy chipotle sauce. If you like spicy, you’ll love this. Can’t tell you what’s in it or I’d have to kill you. And I really don’t want to dull my knives.” He smirked.
Ann cringed and sat up straight when she heard the word, “kill.” The thought of her husband’s death slammed into her mind. She could still see his smiling face bustle through the door at night and picture him sneezing while he mowed the lawn, even while wearing his surgical mask.
She was jolted back to reality when the plate was set in front of her. The aroma made her swoon. “Aren’t you going to join me?” she asked her chef.
“Nah, I ate earlier, I’ve got to get to work. Customers will be by soon.” He snuck a chip from an open bag and shoved it into his mouth while he continued to prepare for the day ahead.
Ann devoured her burger. It was just spicy enough without being overpowering. And Daniel was right, the flavor of the buffalo was similar to beef, but leaner. The marinade he’d used made the burger juicy and delicious.
When she finished her thoroughly-enjoyable meal, Ann set her cookie tin next to the cooling cookies. “Here. Add these to the others.” She thanked Daniel for the recipe and the meal on top of it.
“I’m going to stop by the Okey Dokey Corral on my way home so I can have the ingredients for the next meeting.” She stuffed her pad and recipe back into her jeans.
“Wait. They won’t have these ingredients. You’ll need to go to the Fork To Farm.”
“Isn’t it Farm To Fork?”
“Maybe where you come from. But here, it’s Fork To Farm. It’s on Dunfretin Road, down the street from the Okey Dokey Corral. Need directions?”
“That’s okay, I have GPS.”
“And make sure it says gluten free on the label. Also make sure your vanilla and chocolate chips are also GF.”
“GF? Is that hip slang for gluten free?”
“Yup, now get outa here.”
“Will do, thanks for everything.”
* * * * *
As soon as she stepped inside the Fork To Farm, Ann noticed a distinct smell of herbs, vegetables, and dietary supplements all mixed together. The odor made her nauseous.
The aisles were narrow and items were crowded on the shelves, but she was able to find everything on her list. As she grabbed the last package of xanthan gum on the shelf, she saw a familiar face browsing down the same aisle.
“Mindy! Hi!” Ann was surprised to see her, since the clientele looked more like Amanda’s crowd than
Mindy’s. She’d just passed a man two aisles over in a t-shirt with a picture of a frog making a peace sign.
“Oh, hi Ann, what are you doing here?”
“I have a surprise for the next meeting. You’ll see,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.
Mindy half-smiled.
Ann was excited about her new baking project, but didn’t want to blow the surprise, so she said, “Okay, see you Wednesday.”
* * * * *
When Ann returned home, she was anxious to practice the new recipe on her own, but Honey was restless, so she let her run around her small fenced backyard. Ann pulled up a chair that had been left behind by the previous owner and watched as her dog sniffed the perimeter of the yard, wagging her tail profusely.
Ann soaked up the light and turned her face toward the sun. Everything was working out wonderfully in her new life, except for the dreaded job search. She daydreamed about how she might become a hermit if she couldn’t find something to do with her time. She could turn into the famed cat lady only with a million dogs instead. Just like in the children’s story—101 Dalmatians, she could start a doggie farm. And then the smell hit her—she got a whiff of Honey’s deposit nearby, and the dream of owning a doggie farm flew out the barn.
Ann grabbed her pooper scooper and dumped the mess in the outside trash can, washed her hands, and returned to her comfy chair. The breeze was mesmerizing and she tried to think of other possibilities for jobs. When the doorbell rang, Honey didn’t stir from the corner of the yard where her nose was buried. Disappointed her break was over, Ann headed inside. She hoped it wasn’t a salesman; she was in too good of a mood to bring it down by having to sit through some droll spiel.
When she opened the door, her fears were affirmed. A familiar smirking salesman grinned at her. She frowned and stepped aside for him to enter. “Hello, Ben. What did I forget to sign this time?”
“Nothing,” he waltzed in with papers in his hand. “Just bringing you the title to your hotrod.”
Ann let the flippant remark pass.
“And how is she treating you so far?” He asked in a mocking tone, “Everything you dreamed she’d be?”
“Just fine, thanks.” She reached for the papers Ben held out for her.
When he snatched them away before Ann had a chance to get her fingers on them, he said, “Not so fast. There’s still that one pressing item we haven’t quite solved yet.”
Ann rolled her eyes. She knew what was coming next, “Oh yeah, what’s that?” she pretended not to know what he was talking about. But this time, she was intent on catching him at his own game and finally put an end to his constant badgering. She’d insist they go to lunch. Immediately. Knowing Sunday had to be one of his busiest days at the dealership, Ben would have no recourse but to refuse.
“Have you forgotten so soon?” he pressed his hands together over his heart. “It’s only been a few days; don’t you remember?”
She knew quite well what he was referring to but was getting great joy in dragging out his agony. She threw her hand to her forehead and said, “Whatever do you mean?”
Ben lowered his hands, scrunched his eyebrows together, and said, “Aren’t you ever hungry, Ann?”
Since she’d eaten a burger for breakfast, she actually wasn’t all that hungry, but that didn’t stop her from setting Ben up. “Oh, I certainly am hungry. In fact, I’m starving. Right at this moment.” She grabbed her bag from the kitchen counter. “Mr. Jallopenson, it’s now or never.” She waited for his face to fall.
He looked surprised, but much to Ann’s dismay, he said, “Okay. It’s now. I know a place—”
Ann was furious he’d accepted her immediate proposal and she was now stuck going to lunch with this pompous ass. She insisted on calling the shot, “No! I know a place!”
Ben exited and Ann stormed out of the house after him. She locked the door behind her, while Ben smiled ear-to-ear. She sheepishly unlocked the door, ran back in and called Honey from the back door. It annoyed her to think Ben had distracted her so much that she almost left Honey alone in the back yard. But she hoped by giving Ben what he asked for, he would finally leave her alone.
* * * * *
When Ann and Ben had been seated at the same table where she and Gloria had eaten a few days earlier, at the Vinci Tavern, Ben leaned across the table, and whispered, “Nice place you picked. Kinda funny though.”
She lowered her menu. “I don’t find this place to be funny at all. It’s nice. And cozy. Love the Tuscan style. What’s funny about it?”
Burying his face in the menu, Ben said, “This is exactly the place I was thinking of taking you.” He snickered slightly louder than need be, and she shot him a look of disdain.
Daniel approached their table and said, “Hey, I didn’t know you two knew each other.”
In sync, Ben and Ann looked up over their menus at each other, not realizing Daniel knew the other.
Ben spoke first, “Hey, man, how you doin’? And how do you two know each other?”
Daniel nodded, “Great, just great—”
“Daniel’s helping me with a recipe for my knitting club. What about you two?” Ann glanced between the two men.
“Hmmm…” Ben grinned up at Daniel, “Don’t know if I can compete with that, but let’s see now. We’ve known each other for a few years, watched some games on TV—”
“Some?” Daniel shot back. “Like every game! This place turns into a ghost town during playoff season.”
Ben nodded and shrugged, “True. So true.”
Ben’s smugness irritated her. It was obvious Ben and Daniel were great friends, he certainly didn’t need to rub it in.
“And, um…we shoot hoops about once a week,” Ben continued, making a motion in the air of shooting a basket. “Play a little golf.”
Daniel made a gesture of swinging a golf club.
“Anything else come to mind?”
Daniel grinned and made a motion with his hands as if he were drinking.
“Nah, man. Have we really been known to chug a few beers every now and then?”
Daniel glanced at Ann, “Like last night, for example.”
“How nice,” Ann said, trying not to give away her resentment. He’d even beaten her at knowing Daniel. The competition with this guy annoyed the hell out of her. She decided to end his revelry and changed the subject. “So, what’s good today?”
“Everything,” he said. “Seriously. Everything I make is good. I don’t do crappy food. But if you recall, I’ve got some extra-special buffalo meat. Burgers. Or I could make a set of sliders.”
Ben looked at her in a questioning manner.
Ann wondered how in the world she could have forgotten; she’d just had a buffalo burger made out of the marinated meat for breakfast. It was Ben. He had a horrible effect on her. On her memory. On her mood. On her life. She vowed to stay far away from him after their lunch. “Oh yeah. And it was awesome too. I’ll have the burger. And a coffee, please.” She didn’t mind one bit about having burgers for breakfast and lunch. It was that good.
“Well, since I wasn’t in on this little secret between the two of you and I don’t recall, I think I’ll have what she’s having,” Ben said.
Ann felt vindicated; she knew something Ben didn’t, for once.
Daniel scribbled their order and rushed off toward the kitchen.
“So, what’s this recipe thing all about?” Ben asked.
“I brought cookies last week to my knitting club meeting and there was one lady who’s on a special diet and couldn’t eat the cookies. Daniel’s helping me adapt my grandmother’s recipe so she can eat them.”
“What’s the recipe?”
“Southern Fried Chocolate Chip Cookies.”
“He’s a good cook. No, he’s a great chef. If anyone can do it, Dan’s the man.”
“He already has. We worked on it this morning. They turned out—”
“Let me guess. They turned out sweet,” Ben deadpanned.
&nb
sp; “Very funny.” She turned away, not amused by his un-humor.
“So, um…you went out with Daniel last night?” Ann asked. Her curiosity was about Daniel. She’d take any information she could get to help Gloria.
“Yup.”
Daniel approached the table and set a beer in front of Ben and a cup of coffee in front of Ann. She was in serious need of a caffeine fix if she was going to spend time with Ben.
“Thanks,” Ann said.
Daniel nodded and quickly vanished again.
Ben picked up his bottle and took a swig, “Daniel and I are good friends. We’ve known each other a long time.”
“Yes, I got the hint from your little skit that you two were decent friends.”
He didn’t respond right away, but then said, “He’s a good guy.”
“Is he married?”
“I thought you said you weren’t interested in dating. Losing your husband and all—”
“I’m not interested!” She gulped her coffee to get a jolt of caffeine. “I was just asking. You don’t have to be interested in dating someone to be interested in someone’s life.”
“Uh-huh,” Ben eyed her suspiciously.
“Uh-huh my ass,” Ann shot back. “I’m not interested in Daniel!”
Ben cocked his head to one side. “You know, I think I believe you.”
“Let’s just change the subject, shall we?” She already couldn’t wait for the lunch to be over. She didn’t need to be hassled by this guy and would very much like to get back to lounging in her back yard with her favorite companion.
“Sure,” he shrugged. “So, tell me about you. How long were you married?”
“Yeah…not ready to talk about that.” Especially not with you! Then she added, “But feel free to tell me about your marriage if you care to.”
Ben took her up on her offer and spoke a bit about how he met his Jillian in second grade and how he chased her on the playground at recess until he caught her and kissed her hand.
Ann smiled at the thought of a seven-year-old Ben chasing a girl and kissing her hand.
