Taste

by Kris Bryant

  “Really? Do you think they will remember me?”

  “Oh, I’m sure goats are like dogs. They will remember you and your smell. I’m sure you are stinky to them.”

  She giggles. “I am not.”

  I catch her smelling her arm. I point and laugh. “So maybe instead of calling you Olivia, I should call you stinky.” She huffs, but can’t help but laugh. Even Taryn is smiling. “Come on, stinky. Let’s help your Mom get these fruits and veggies to the car.”

  “Thanks for your help, Ki. I appreciate it. This is a great market.” I can tell Taryn is nervous, almost skittish around me. A part of me wants to reassure her I’m not going to jump her, but then I’m not entirely sure of that.

  “You’ll love coming here. There is so much to choose from and I always come up with new recipes every time I shop.” We walk over to a black SUV and I help her load up the back while Olivia climbs into her booster seat. I lean into the window.

  “Nice to meet you, stinky.” I wave at her.

  “Bye, pie!” she says. I look back at her with my best annoyed look. She laughs. She’s just delightful.

  “Have a good rest of your weekend, Taryn. I’ll see you Monday.” I leave them without a backward glance. I don’t want Taryn to think that she affects me, and I don’t want to scare her off because she does.

  Chapter Five

  I’m nervous walking to class. I know Taryn is already there because her car is in the parking lot. One of the great things about the culinary center is the layout of the classrooms. The first third of the classroom is a dry erase board and eight long desks. The rest of it is really a giant kitchen divided up into workstations for each chef. Each room has a glass front so that people can observe the instructors and students without disrupting class.

  I hope to have a moment to watch Taryn before my presence is known. What I don’t expect is Scott leaning over her pointing out something on her laptop. He is very close to her, too close in my opinion. The feral part of me wants to growl at him, partly because I see her as my friend now and I know he’s a total slime ball, and the other part simply because I’m jealous. He’s obviously interested in her. As I walk into class, Taryn looks up and we make eye contact. I can’t tell if she looks guilty or annoyed. I raise my eyebrow and she gives me an eye roll. I shuffle my backpack around to cover up my relief and small burst of laughter.

  “What’s going on?” I feel like I need to say something since the three of us are in close proximity. Scott looks at me and takes a small step away from Taryn.

  “I was just showing Chef a program on the Ethnic Food Festival this weekend. My family has a booth there. Everybody is invited.” He smiles smugly.

  “I’ll probably go on Sunday.” Not that anybody asked. “What is your family cooking?”

  “Irish stew, soda bread, and a few other family recipes.” That all actually sounds pretty good.

  “I’ll be sure to stop by.” I pull out my chef jacket and put it on while Taryn and Scott discuss his menu in detail. I love that she is so interested in food, regardless of who’s talking about it. I head to my station because I can’t just sit around and stare at them. It’s relatively clean, but I wipe it down again, anxious to stay busy and not watch them. I know we’re working with mangoes today and I’m excited to see if Taryn will let us do what we want, or if we’ll have to follow her recipe.

  “Good news, Ki.” Taryn is suddenly beside me and I jump, dumping the cup of soy oil I just poured all over the front of my jacket and onto the counter. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She’s laughing and as much as I want to be mad at her, I can’t help but laugh with her. It’s nice to see her still relaxed and not in teacher mode yet. We both fumble around for paper towels to contain the mess. It’s amazing how fast a cup of oil can spread.

  “Well, you certainly got my attention.” I look down at my coat, the oil stain is forming and spreading fast. I sigh. She grabs a few paper towels and runs them under hot water before applying them to the front of my coat. Without thinking, she starts unbuttoning my jacket. I watch her in complete stunned silence. When her fingers still, we make eye contact again. Her fingers are right at the buttons near my breasts.

  “I’m so sorry.” She takes a few steps back, both of us surprised at her actions. I finish taking off my chef jacket as if her hands weren’t just on my body and my reaction to her isn’t explosive. My heart hammers in my chest and I start to sweat. I swallow a few times, trying to think of a way to joke out of this, but I draw a blank. She heads over to the pantry and returns with a cup of white powder. “If you give me your jacket, I’ll treat it with baking powder. It’s the best and fastest way to get an oil stain out of clothes.” I hand her my jacket with shaking fingers, hoping she doesn’t see my reaction. If she does, she plays it off and works diligently on my jacket. “Grab another jacket from the supply cabinet.” I need to get away from her so I quickly march over to the cabinet and slip on another jacket. I take a few deep breaths as I button it up and am able to calm myself. Other students start filling in the room and our moment, or whatever that was, dissipates. By the time I walk over to her, my nerves and my body have calmed.

  “So, what’s the good news?” I clear my throat, trying to lose the frog that has lodged itself tightly inside. She looks up from her project of cleaning my jacket, her eye contact almost fierce, confusing me further.

  “Well, I was going to tell you that we are going to cook a protein with the chutney. That way you can make your delicious diner dish for me.” Her face relaxes.

  “This still doesn’t release you and Olivia from the invitation of eating at the actual diner.” I know I’m pushing her, but I feel like something might be happening here and I’m not ready to walk away from it. She finally smiles at me. “And don’t worry about my jacket. I have a few of them.”

  “It’s my fault you spilled it. I shouldn’t have pounced on you.” I lift my eyebrow up, acknowledging her choice of words. “Well, you know what I mean.” She’s actually blushing. “Anyway, I guess we should get started.” I look up at the clock and sigh. This magical moment is over, but not forgotten.

  “Chefs, today we are going to make a sweet mango chutney and I want you to prepare a protein you think pairs the best with it. And a side dish if you want extra credit.” The class laughs at this because there is no such thing as extra credit, only over-achievers. I’m already mentally on it.

  Taryn passes out the mangoes and starts her recipe. She explains why she chose the spices and ingredients she has and tells us that it can be made however we want. I’m eager to start mine, but watching her prepare is just as engaging. Now, I can actually stare and get away with it. After ten minutes of chopping mangoes, apples, gingerroot and adding spices, she starts the cooking process and excuses us to get started.

  She has a small jar of chutney that she made over the weekend that we taste. It’s fantastic. Almost as good as mine. I don’t tell her that because I want to show her. I decide on an almond encrusted pork chop, butternut squash spaghetti with roasted vegetables, and my own mango chutney. Personally, I would love to make cheesy garlic mashed potatoes as part of this comfort food event, but she doesn’t strike me as the mashed potatoes kind of girl. Maybe roasted potatoes, but nothing heavy. I take a moment and process my meal. What do I need to get started right away and what should I hold off on? I know there are no time restraints so I decide to pull together all of the ingredients first. I notice Taryn making her way through the class, asking each chef what they are cooking. By the time she reaches me, I’ve chopped my ingredients for the chutney, as well as the almonds for my pork chop crust.

  “No starch, Ki?” she asks. I’m surprised she questions it.

  “You don’t strike me as the potatoes kind of girl.” I wink at her. Why the hell did I wink?

  “You never know until you try.” She smiles at me as she makes her way to the next student. Well, shit. I can’t help but grin. I’m stoked to make my cheesy garlic mashed p
otatoes now. Everybody at the diner loves them. Even Bud likes them and he doesn’t particularly like garlic. I rethink my menu, replacing the fresh vegetables with my potatoes. I don’t even look up for forty-five minutes. I know that people are starting to prep plates, but I’m in my zone and I don’t want to leave my station.

  “Who hasn’t tried Mary and Tony’s dishes yet?” Taryn asks. She’s looking at me so I reluctantly head that way, two forks in hand. Both are good, just not thrilling. I do like the fact that Mary added slivers of peach to her chutney. Even though it’s too sweet for me, the peach complements the mango nicely. I praise their dishes and head back to mine.

  Somehow, I’m the last chef to turn in her dish. Only by a minute or two. Scott’s dish was great, of course, so I had to step it up. My pork chops are fantastic. I found the best cuts in the refrigerator and cooked them to perfection. Pork is delicate, but I have worked with it enough to know how to cook it flawlessly. My potatoes are fluffy and my chutney is spot on. I can’t help but smile as I bring my plates over to the rest of the class.

  “Fantastic, Ki.” Taryn smiles at me. The butterflies in my stomach are dancing, but I have to remain calm and professional. Scott even gives me props.

  “This is really good,” he says. He takes another bite of my potatoes. I can tell he is trying to figure out my ingredients. I’ll never tell him.

  “Thanks.” I head back to my station to clean up. Class eventually files out and I’m left with just Taryn. I find myself taking my time, enjoying the few moments alone with her.

  “You were right. Your chutney is amazing,” she says.

  “Thanks,” I say. “I’m glad you let us pick a protein, too.”

  “Well, you gave me a good idea. I think all the students had fun today.”

  “We have fun every day. I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

  “Have you always wanted to be a chef?” she asks. Oh, boy. She’s going to love my story.

  “Actually, no. I dropped out of law school. Surprised?”

  “No, impressed, really. Just getting into law school is an accomplishment. When did you decide you wanted to cook for a living instead?”

  “I’ve always enjoyed cooking. It’s peaceful to me. Law isn’t. There’s no connection with anything. At least with food I have endless possibilities and they are all positive,” I say. She nods. I slow down my movements as I clean up my station, talking and listening about her and Olivia. She looks up at the clock in surprise.

  “Oh, my. I have to pick up Olivia.” She jumps up from her chair.

  “Go. I’ll lock the door behind me. I’m almost done anyway.” She thanks me and heads for the door.

  “You did a great job today, Ki. I’m proud of you.” She waves and leaves. What a fantastic Monday. Not only did I impress her with my chutney, but I kicked Scott’s ass, and I got a few minutes alone with her. I’m starting to like the days of the week more than the weekends.

  Chapter Six

  “You look great! Where have you been, girl?” Jessie grabs me in a big hug, squeezing me so hard that I grunt. I met her when I first moved into the building. She lives downstairs and has been my best friend since day one. I haven’t spent a lot of time with my friends lately.

  “I’ve been pretty busy with work and school.”

  Jessie holds my arms up and makes me twirl for her. “When was the last time you wore a dress and where have you been hiding these curves?”

  I smile shyly at her. I rarely wear dresses, but today I felt like getting dolled up. We’re going to an all day concert celebrating the LGBTQ community in the park and I want to look good. It’s been a long time since I had a real date and maybe it’s time to meet some new women. My everyday wardrobe consists of black slacks and white coats. I need color and style for at least one day.

  “Stop. I’m just getting tired of my monochromatic wardrobe. I needed a break.” I do like this dress.

  “Well, lilac compliments you well,” she says. I smile. It’s been a long time since I heard somebody say something nice about me, not just my cooking. My hair is pulled back in a French braid. All day out in the sun, even though the temperature won’t hit above seventy-five, will still be hot.

  “I made us sandwiches, lemon bars, brownies, veggie chips, and some other stuff.”

  Jessie looks at the picnic basket then back at me. “You know there are only four of us, right? That basket must weigh a good twenty pounds.”

  “Then we can share with others around us.” I put a lot of effort into our picnic. Jessie packed two bottles of wine, beer, and water. Sam and Lynn are responsible for the blankets and chairs. “Are we all set?” I don’t even try to lift the basket. Jessie works out daily. Not only is she strong and beautiful, but she’s tough. Her white T-shirt with a rainbow heart across the front is stretched tight against her chest and her cargo shorts hang dangerously low on her hips.

  “Let’s go.” We head out to Jessie’s Jeep Renegade where Sam and Lynn are loading everything up.

  “Did you pack the entire cow in that basket?” Lynn asks.

  “Just wait until you taste everything,” I say. She grabs me and gives me a friendly hug. Sam isn’t a hugger so she gives me an awkward wave three feet from where I’m standing. I smile and nod.

  “Good to see you, Sam. How are you?” She’s an IT manager at some insurance company downtown and doesn’t have a lot to say most days unless it’s about Zelda or other video games. I’m sure she feels the same way about my obsession with cooking as I do about her gaming.

  “Good.” She nods back. Okay, so we got through that. I climb into the passenger seat as Jessie loads up the basket in the very back.

  “So what’s the plan?” Jessie asks. I hand her the tickets and parking pass. The concert is about twenty minutes away. Our parking pass is pretty good, but we probably won’t get a spot close to the entrance since we are three hours late getting there. When we looked over the schedule last week, we didn’t see any bands we wanted to hear until early afternoon.

  “Let’s get there, find a spot, and relax the rest of the day.” I’m so ready to just enjoy my friends, the weather, and music. Jessie always has a rainbow flag that she stakes in the ground to help us find our way back to our blanket. With 10,000 people there, it’s hard to remember where base camp is, especially if alcohol is involved. I plan to stay mostly sober because tomorrow I want to enjoy my Sunday and not be plagued by a wine hangover. I slip on my shades, lean back in the seat, and enjoy the sunshine on my face. I haven’t felt this kind of peace in weeks.

  Jessie gets us to the concert in record time. I end up carrying nothing. Apparently a woman in a dress is not required to lug heavy things. There are open spots about halfway up the hill and we head that way to set up and spread out.

  “Ki! Ki!” A high voice calls. I turn and see Olivia waving at me. What the hell? What is she doing here?

  “Hang on, guys,” I say. I head toward her, waving. She gives me a quick hug when I close the gap, surprising me.

  “What are you doing here, Olivia?” My mind is trying to process why she is at the concert. She has a NOH8 sticker on her cheek and looks adorable in her pink dress.

  “Hi, Ki,” Taryn says. She walks up behind Olivia, putting her hands on her tiny shoulders. I know my jaw is on the ground and there is nothing I can do to salvage any sense of coolness. Taryn smiles at me.

  “Uh, hi,” I say. I’m still in shock. My teacher is at a LGBTQ concert with her daughter.

  “I’m here with a few of my friends,” Taryn says. She thumbs behind her and I can see three other women lounging on a large blanket in the grass. I see a large cooler and am finally able to speak.

  “You packed a giant picnic, too, huh?”

  She laughs. “The outcome of being a cook and your friends asking you to whip up something for lunch.” A small piece of hair blows across her face in the breeze and hangs up on her eyelash. Without thinking, I reach out and gently brush it from her face. We stand there for
a moment, both of us looking at one another, neither speaking. I’m sure we are crossing a line here, but I don’t know what the line is, or how far I should step over it. Before I can say anything, one of her friends is suddenly behind her.

  “Can I get you anything, Taryn?” A slender and beautiful woman with short brown hair comes up behind her and Olivia. I don’t miss the possessive gesture as she puts her palm on Taryn’s back. I look down, then back up at Taryn. She looks a bit angry and I don’t know if it’s directed at me.

  “No, thank you. We are good here. Mallory, this is Ki, a friend of mine. Ki, this is Mallory.” She doesn’t specify their relationship so of course, I think the worst. The worst for me, obviously not for her. I nod at Mallory.

  “Nice to meet you. Have you all been here long? Have we missed anything?” I try to keep the conversation light. I still can feel Taryn’s smooth skin against my fingertip and try hard to keep from staring at her. My desire for her is always close to the surface and it’s getting harder and harder to hide it. Mallory decides to be a wealth of information and tells me everything I’ve missed and how they have such a great spot. I’m already tired of her. I squat down to talk to Olivia who is getting antsy from not being involved in the conversation.

  “What about you? Are you having a good time?” I ask. She reaches out for my hands.

  “Can I come with you and your friends?” she asks. I smile. She probably doesn’t like Mallory either.

  “Maybe later once we get set up and I know where we are and if it’s okay with your mum,” I say. Olivia starts jumping up and down with excitement.

  “You don’t have to do that, Ki,” Taryn says.

  “If you aren’t comfortable with me having her, I understand.” I can’t help but be somewhat disappointed that she doesn’t trust me with Olivia.

  “It’s not that.” She reaches out and puts her hand on my forearm. “I just don’t want to ruin your time with your friends.” She’s not moving her hand from my arm, something I’m very much aware of. So is Mallory.