“I know its late Jasmine, and I can imagine what this might sound like, but I can make a great late night dinner if you’re interested.”
“Sounds to me like you’re trying to make me fat Omari.”
“You’re right, it is kind of late.”
“Zach said you were a great cook.”
“Technically, I’m a licensed chef. But that’s neither here or there.”
“I’m impressed.”
“I wasn’t looking for that effect, Jasmine.”
“Its cool, but truth of the matter is I haven’t had dinner seeing how I’m still at work.”
“Really, well I can fix that. I mean I can fix that if you want me too.”
“Okay, but I don’t get off till eleven.”
“It's ten now, which means I can have dinner ready in about an hour, so if it’s a date...”
“Sounds like a plan to me, Omari.”
“See you at eleven”
“I’ll be there,” she said and hung up.
I was halfway to my kitchen when Boney told me that I had another call.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Omari, it’s me Jasmine.”
“You’re not coming, huh?”
“I would if you told me where you live.”
I’m not sure which of us needed to laugh that off the most, but it seemed to me that Jasmine might have needed laughter in her life more than I did. I gave that some thought while I quickly gave her detailed directions to my loft.
My personally designed kitchen was equipped with an industrialized refrigerator, gas grill, and a double walled oven that rarely if ever gave me a hard time. This meant the dreaming and planning stage that went into creating any of my meals usually went well. The ironic thing is, whenever it came time for me to cook something special for myself, things never seemed to pan out for me. In fact, I’ve destroyed more recipes than the collective carnage in one of those first shooter video games. Why this happened went way beyond my comprehension. This is why I suddenly felt a little uneasy about cooking the meal for my date. In truth, I didn’t have the slightest idea what I was going to prepare.
I checked my Invicta watch, and it said that I had exactly fifty minutes to create and serve. As a school-trained chef, I should have been able to get away with just grilling a few Chicago style hot dogs for a date, but I knew better. I hesitantly put the hot dog idea back where they belonged, and headed for my refrigerated storeroom in search of something quick and interesting to serve. In spite of my desire not to start from scratch, I found everything inside my storeroom labeled off limits because most of the meals had already been eyeballed and paid for.
I was going to have to prepare something good and fast. I began searching my mind and my storeroom for a quick fix. Ten minutes later after finding an opened box of smoked salmon slices left over from another project, I finally decided on a meal. Tagliatelle, smoked salmon and cream would have been an expensive dish in Italy because smoke salmon is imported. On the other hand, farm raised salmon was pretty affordable in Atlanta, and it would be a tasty meal if prepared just right. In fact, my mother and my big sister adored this dish because of its elegant creamy sauce, infused with that great taste of smoked salmon.
I was about to impress. Without more ado, I headed for my kitchen where I washed my hands before I cleared a space to work on one of my counter tops. I then placed my pasta cooker, which was full of water, back on the grill, and turned on the heat. The bright blue flame licked the bottom of the pot before I went to find some non-fat cream. I poured a cup and a quarter into a saucepan before I added my six ounces of smoked salmon strips and grated in some nutmeg. Technically, I was supposed to let the salmon rest inside the cream for about two hours in a cool place before adding heat. I didn’t have two hours, so I decided to speed up the process by pouring it all into a mixer. Once this was done I set the mixer on its lowest setting in an attempt to mesh the flavors. Satisfied, I moved over to the pasta part of the dish by cooking the green and white Tagliatelle until it was al dente. After draining the pasta thoroughly, I dripped in a little olive oil to keep it from sticking while it waited to be served.
The Tagliatelle was ready, but the cream and salmon wasn’t, so I decided to concentrate on throwing together an impressive salad, and then a quick dessert. I checked the time and discovered that I had thirty minutes left. With time slipping away, I quickly went to my refrigerator and pulled out some fresh romaine, spinach, and red lettuce for the salad. I had this bad habit of making my salads the king of a meal, whereas they should always compliment a meal. This was probably because I loved the vibrant colors that made up a tossed salad. Seeing as how Jasmine was going to be my first real date in awhile, I decided not to awe her with my salad building skills. I immediately separated enough lettuce for two before I placed it inside two salad bowls. Afterwards, I collected all the ingredients needed to make mustard vinaigrette, and combined them in a jar with a tight fitting lid before I laid it aside. The structure or the backbone of any salad was the lettuce and the vinaigrette as far as I was concerned. What you decide to top your salad with is what makes it, so I decided to go with a goat cheese patty rubbed in crushed pistachio nuts.
Sautéing goat cheese can be a tricky affair if not done correctly. So I carefully patted two tablespoons of goat cheese into a circle two inches in diameter and about a quarter inch thick until I had four rounded patties. Satisfied with their shapes, I dredged all four on both sides through some crushed pistachio nuts until they were thoroughly coated. I then placed a heavy nonstick skillet over moderately high heat and brushed lightly with oil. When the skillet was hot enough, I added the cheese patties and sautéed both sides until they were a golden brown. Removed them from the skillet and placed them in the center of each bowl of lettuce. Once Jasmine arrived, I would sprinkle them with black pepper before adding the mustard vinaigrette.
Again, my salad looked more like the leader, and not the sidekick. However, I was happy with the outcome, so I moved on to preparing my dessert. I again checked my refrigerator. In there I discovered a quarter of Artisanal Premium cheesecake and a bucket of bland tasting rice pudding that I had made for a friend. I was raised on rice pudding as a child, and I still enjoyed it when it was made right. The rice pudding that rested in my refrigerator was nothing to be proud of, however that cheesecake had royalty written all over it. It wasn’t about to share the cheesecake with somebody that I didn’t know. A slice of cheesecake, served with a warm glass of Hennessey on a cold wintry night, was something I only shared with those I adored. ‘You’re the one, pudding’ I thought to myself before I pulled it out and tasted it for freshness.
“Thank God for baking soda,” I chuckled before I retrieved my favorite brand of rum, a box of raisins and some brown sugar.
I ended up adding a few ounces of rum, a few more raisins and some brown sugar in attempt to transform it into Earlene’s rice pudding. After the hasty conversion, I microwave it for a few seconds before I test tasted it once again. Fortunately, all it needed was some extra rum before I scooped the tasty dessert into two dessert bowls. Satisfied, I placed the desserts back into my refrigerator before I cleared my palate with a tall glass of warm water because it was time for me to sample the salmon and cream for taste. To my disappointment, the smoky flavor I was hoping for wasn’t quite there, so I decided to let it sit a little more while I cleaned up the kitchen.
Ten minutes later, my kitchen was as clean as it was going to get, so I decided to set up where Jasmine and I would eat. My dining room was small and very personal; in other words, it was too junky looking for me to clean it right then. I decided to do what I did best, which was to improvise. I strolled into my front room and surveyed all that I had and decided I would make use of the small area near the water fountain. The French styled fountain took up a quarter of my front room, which meant it would be a breeze for me to hide or show what I wanted Jasmine to see if we had dinner there. I faded into my visualization mode briefly before I a
greed upon an outdoor café type setting like the ones I had visited in Europe. The problem was, I didn’t own a café style dinning room set or the proper décor that should come with one. Feeling pressed for time, I checked and discovered that I had about fifteen minutes before Jasmine was to arrive. I racked my brain for a solution until someone decided to ring my doorbell. Curiously, I headed over to my video intercom and discovered a woman dressed in black waiting down at my front door.
“Can I help you?”
“Hey Omari, it’s me Jasmine.”
“Wow, my bad, can you give me a minute?” “I’m sorry, am I early?”
Hell, yeah you are, I thought and buzzed her through
the door.
Before I could have scrambled two eggs with cheese, there she was standing in my doorway, dressed in intimidating combat fatigues. Comparably tall, chocolate, and unbelievably shapely, Jasmine had that Serena Williams mystique about her. However, it wasn’t her physical appearance that caught me off guard as we stood face to face for the first time. It was the combat ready nine-millimeter pistol that she had strapped to her waist that sort of kept me from saying anything worthwhile.
“It’s the gun right?” she asked offhandedly. “What gun, I don’t see a gun,” I replied with the straightest of faces.
“Then why haven’t you asked me in?”
“Okay, it was the gun. But it’s cool as long as don’t you shoot me with it.”
“Well if you don’t invite me in out of the cold, Omari, I might have to resort to that.”
“I don’t know exactly what Zach told you, but I am not that type of guy.”
“Are you sure, ‘cause I’ve heard all about you Philly cats.”
“Granted, some of us can be a little on the pretentious side, but we're good people Jasmine.”
“We’ll see.”
“So, how long have you been a copper?”
“I’m not a cop; I’m a police officer, and I’ve been on the force for about seven years now.”
“Sorry 'bout that.”
“Been called worse things.”
“I’m sure. So what’s up with the fatigues?”
“Drug bust over by Piedmont Park…I wasn’t planning on you seeing me like this. Thought about going home and changing, but I probably wouldn’t have been back here on time. That’s why I’m still dressed like this.”
“I see, well I guess this is the part where I invite you in, huh, Jasmine?”
“Especially seeing how I’m the one with the gun, Omari.”
I cautiously stepped away from my door. “Dinner should be ready in a few minutes, but I didn’t get a chance to set the table. So if you don’t mind waiting a few more minutes I’ll arrange somewhere for us to eat.”
Jasmine nodded her head okay before she entered my loft with wide inquisitive eyes.
“What an interesting place you have Omari.”
I wasn’t the bit surprised because there were quit a few interesting things to be seen in my loft. I had enough various plant forms dotted about to start my very own botanical garden. If that wasn’t enough to make most people go ooh and aah, my modern art displays, not to mention the lofts curvature style architecture had a way of impressing.
“Thank you. So you’re off duty right?” I asked from my kitchen.
“Yes, I’m off duty. Why?”
“I was just wondering if I could fix you a drink.”
“Okay. I guess this is the part where I say I don’t drink huh?”
I didn’t answer that instead I gave her candid remark some thought as I warmed up dinner.
“I would love a drink.”
She took a seat on my couch.
“Anything particular,” I asked her before I reentered the front room.
“I’m a police officer Omari, which means I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
“Well I’m an ex-soldier, which means I’ll probably be drinking something rather strong.”
“The stronger the better, so what exactly did you do in the military?”
“Before I answer that, I gotta know if you have ever asked Zach that question?”
“Believe it or not, I have asked him that.”
“What did he say?”
“He said it was none of my damn business.”
“At least he didn’t tell you that he was a Ranger like he told some of my clients.”
“Okay, I’m listening.” She said with her hands on her hips.
“Don’t tell Zach I told you this because he’ll never forgive me. But if you must know, he and I both use to be, ninety two mikes.”
“Like I know what that means.”
“In layman's terms, we were Mortuary Affairs Specialists.”
“As in, working with the dead?”
“I guess you can say that.”
“Damn,” Jasmine sighed without reservations.
Feeling a little exposed, I came back with, “Honestly, I didn’t really want to tell you that, because most people have a tendency to look at me a little different whenever they discover that little fact. But somebody had to do it, and I guess that somebody was me and Zach.”
I’m not sure if I was the one that started the staring, but for some reason or another Jasmine and I had found ourselves caught in the throes of what I could only describe as a first date stare. Than again maybe she was wondering how she could get out of this without being overly rude.
“I take it you and Zach have seen your share of human drama, huh?”
“The dead don’t necessarily have drama, but I guess you can say that.”
Whenever I talk about my stint in the military, I always come across distant and cold. I don’t mean to, but that how it generally goes down. Slightly disappointed in myself, I desperately wanted to look away from her, but I couldn’t, so I said the only thing that came to mind: “Would you like a little music while I get everything ready?”
“Okay,” Jasmine replied looking surprisingly comfortable.
“Cool…Boney.”
“Yes Omari?”
“Warm the surrounding floors to about sixty five degrees, and while you’re at it, activate itunes. Track one-zerofive, melodious mode.”
Three seconds later, a smooth and extremely mellow Sade song filled the room with words of old love and new passion. Satisfied with the aura, I headed back to my kitchen.
“Where can I get one those?” Jasmine asked after she joined me in the kitchen.
“Who Sade?”
“No silly, the voice controlled stereo thing.”
“Believe it or not, that’s part of what I do for a living.”
“Your boy said you were something of a computer whiz.”
“Knowing Zach, he probably called me a nerd right?”
“Not exactly a nerd.”
I smiled understandingly before I tried to analyze the sudden uneasiness that lay between us. It was like somebody just told us both that we were extreme opposites, not to mention strangers.
“Look, I didn’t mean to act all goofy after you told me about the army thing.”
“I’m comfortable with my past Jasmine, so it’s all good.”
“That’s good to know, but for the record, I too have seen some mad human drama to last me a life time. In fact, its people like me and you that give all those writers on HBO something good to write about Omari.”
“I never thought about it that way. Thanks.”
“Its okay, but I gotta tell you. This is the most beautiful loft I have ever seen. Who decorated it?”
After being called gay by my closest friends, I wasn’t sure if I should have answered that honestly. “I sort of did some of it, and my mother and sister did the rest.”
“Interesting, I guess after Zach finishes up with my place, you’ll come and help me fix it up.”
“So that’s how you meant Zach?”
“No, his girlfriend and I are pretty close. You know Sarah, right?”
“Oh yeah, I know Sarah.”
“We
ll, Zach told Sarah that you were looking for a date. Of course Sarah knew that I wasn’t seeing anyone, so she asked if I would be interested. I thought why not. And here I am.”
“Damn, so that’s how it works.”
“And to think, there are people out there paying a king's ransom to some match maker company for the hook up.”
“I know that’s right, so how long have you been participating in this crazy dating game, Jasmine?” I handed her a glass of Hennessy.
“I don’t think you should ever ask a woman that question. If you ask me, its like a sneaky way of asking how many men have I slept with.”
“Really? Well I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Apology accepted…and I wasn’t offended,” She said and headed for the outdoor garden. “Outside of building robots, what is it that you really do, Omari?”
“Whenever I’m not during the computer thing, I’m usually running my catering business.”
Jasmine peered out into the garden and sipped her drink. “Corporate type catering?”
“I can, but my clientele generally ranges for the intimate dinner for two to the small social gatherings – friends and family.”
“So you cook for the rich?”
“Generally, but I have a few low income clients that I like to work for.”
“Okay, if I was to hire you, what would I get?’
“Anything you want.”
“Suppose I didn’t know what I wanted? Do you a have brochure or something like that?”
“No, but I do have a website where you could tell me what you’re trying to achieve.”
“Suppose all I wanted was to forget my world for one night. Could you make that a reality?”
I stopped what I was doing so that I could understand where this was going. I was halfway through that process when Jasmine approached me with plotting eyes.
“Given a little time to prepare, I could do that.” I finally answered feeling lost and confused.
“Perfect answer,” Jasmine whispered into my ear before she glided back into my front room.
I’m not sure if that was the perfect answer or not, but Jasmine and I eventually had our dinner in front of my bay window before we shared a few other interesting things about ourselves over the chilled rice pudding. After dessert was spoken for, we shared a cup of hot coffee out in my frigid garden before I managed to talk her into watching one of my classic movies.
The Other Side of My Kitchen Page 3
