The Secret Ingredient

by Laura Schaefer

  I didn’t walk into the court; I just went up to the fence behind her. When she took a break to go collect balls in the hopper, I spoke up.

  “Zo?”

  “Annie? Hey.” There was coolness in her voice.

  “Hey. Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t make time to help you earlier. With the school board and the farmer’s market people. I’ve been so obsessed with scones that I kind of forgot there’s other stuff going on.”

  She bounced a ball between her racket and the ground, hard. “Yeah.”

  I could tell Zoe wanted to say something else, so I just waited for a minute. It was important not to interrupt her when she looked this serious.

  “It’s like it’s always about you sometimes,” she finally said. “I know the Leaf and the Teashop Girls are important. But once in a while Genna and I are going to want to do stuff that has nothing to do with tea. And I want you to care about it.” Zoe’s words hurt. I’d accused Genna of the very same crime—being self-absorbed—when she’d decided to go to theater camp. It occurred to me that being a good friend was not something that could be done by accident. You had to work at it, and pay attention.

  “I do care. A lot. I’m totally taking the rest of the day off from scones. I need to start all over anyway, but that can wait. Can I help you today?” I hoped it wasn’t too late to make it up to my friend. I knew that sometimes I got a little overfocused on what was happening in my own life. I remembered my mom and dad poking fun at Beth when we were younger for being a self-obsessed teenager. I guess I wasn’t any better.

  Zoe smiled and smoothed her hair, refastening a barrette. One of her best qualities was that she never, ever stayed mad. “Okay. See, what I want to do is make a short, like, public service announcement about the community garden. I want it to show people what we could do for the schools if only we could partner up. Hopefully it’ll turn out really cool. My stepdad says we can borrow his digital camera. We could even put it on your food blog if you wanted. I thought I’d put together some sample lunches, show them on camera, and flash some basic nutrition information. I want to film right at the farmer’s market, and at the school, but we can start with a short segment at the Leaf….”

  Zoe kept talking a mile a minute.

  “Augh!” Okay, slow down. I need to make some notes!” I laughed.

  “That’s a good idea. I get kind of excited,” she agreed, scooping up a tennis ball with the outside edge of her shoe and her racket. I collected a couple, too, and tossed them to her.

  “Let’s go to the Leaf,” I suggested. “I need some tea to keep up with you.”

  Zoe giggled and agreed.

  The shop was busy when we arrived, but Louisa seemed to have it under control. She sat at a table with two little girls and an older lady wearing a lovely hat. Louisa was showing the girls how to stir their tea without clanking the spoon against the sides of the cup.

  “See, like this,” Louisa said, carefully moving a small spoon in her cup. “Very gentle. There’s no rush. Now you try.”

  The girls imitated Louisa. One accidentally clinked her cup. “Oops!”

  Louisa giggled in delight. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You know what the most important rule of tea is?”

  “What?” the girls asked.

  My grandmother met my eyes and I smiled. “Annie here, one of the original Teashop Girls, can tell you.”

  “The most important rule of tea is to enjoy yourself!” I exclaimed. “Tea is the best time of day.” I made sure both girls had pink Teashop Girls buttons and got punch cards for them as well. I mentioned that they had to come back for birthday tea to get a free pot.

  I explained to Louisa what Zoe wanted to do, and she said it sounded lovely.

  “You can use the counter or the last free table on the patio, my dearheart.”

  “I’ve also decided not to bake at home again,” I announced. “All the rest of my scones will be created here. For our customers.”

  “Why the change of heart, sugarpie?” Louisa asked. “And what kind of tea would you like today?”

  “Mr. Hines taught me there’s more to a good scone than the flour and the sugar. I was wrong not to include our customers. I need them … and their taste buds. I’m going to practice making all plain scones next week, so the spy will get bored anyway. I’ll take some oolong.”

  “Sounds like you’re on the right track, my lovely. Jasmine or plain?”

  “Plain. Thank you. I’m going back to basics, Louisa.”

  She smiled. “Does that mean no more bacon?”

  “I’ll never say no to bacon, but I’m just not putting it in the batter for now. I want to get really good at making a basic recipe,” I explained. “The scone has to be delec-table without all the extras.”

  “That’s funny … what you’re saying reminds me of how I feel about tea,” Louisa said.

  “It does?”

  “Sure. See, we have all these fancy cups and pots and varieties …” My grandmother gestured to the Leaf’s shelves, which were stocked with a lifetime’s collection of tea things. Her wrist was decorated with a funky charm bracelet and draped with the end of her sheer aquamarine scarf. I loved all of the pots and cups, and I knew Louisa did too. “But really, all we need are the tea leaves, some hot water in a pot, and one good friend to share it with. The rest is just frills.”

  “I heart the frills,” I said. But I knew what she meant. I supposed the hard part was to remember to be grateful for them but not too terribly attached. That way, the simple things in life could make you happy and you didn’t have to spend every minute chasing extra stuff.

  Zoe arrived carrying two huge bags of food. Genna was right behind her with a big light, the camera, and a tote with beauty supplies.

  “Hey, I called Gen, too. She said she’s going to do my makeup for the shoot.” Zoe crossed her eyes at Louisa and me. I giggled.

  “Hello, girls,” Louisa greeted my friends. “Who’s having tea? I’m making some oolong for Annie.” They both gave her a hug.

  “I’ll have peppermint!” Zoe said.

  “Ooh, good choice, dear.” Louisa nodded. “Mint is so cooling on a hot day. And for you, lovely Genna?”

  “I’ll take jasmine pearl,” Gen said, tapping her finger to her mouth thoughtfully. “I feel like something flowery. I like your scarf, Louisa.”

  “Why, thank you! Annie’s mother bought it for me.” Louisa rearranged the sheer fabric. I blinked at her, surprised to hear my mom had such good taste.

  “She did? When?” I asked.

  “Hmm … a long time ago. I want to say at some sort of music educators’ conference in Savannah? It’s one of my favorites.”

  Genna and Zoe surveyed the Leaf and chose a table to set up at. Zoe wanted to use the counter.

  Sure enough, once Zoe set out the two sample school lunches she’d made—a turkey wrap and a pasta salad made with whole wheat pasta, vegetables from her garden, and feta cheese—and photos of some less healthy lunches for comparison—pizza and chicken nuggets—Genna got to work powdering Zo’s nose.

  “I’m only agreeing to this because you said the lights would make me look shiny,” Zoe said to Genna.

  “Trust the professional,” Gen replied. “Here, wear this scarf.” She took off the bright blue scarf she had looped around her neck and put it around Zoe’s. It looked really pretty against Zo’s smooth black hair and white shirt. Then, to Louisa, Genna said, “I made wheat berries for lunch. I put them in my salad. My mom liked them.”

  “Wonderful, dear. You look very well.” Louisa prepared a pot of tea for Gen and one for Zo. Genna blushed and said, “Thank you.”

  “How is my hair?” Zoe asked. Her shiny black hair looked amazing, as usual. Genna pulled a bobby pin out of her own hair and used it to pin back Zo’s. It looked pretty.

  “Perfect.”

  “Annie?” Zoe asked. “Will you do the camera? When I point to something like one of these photos, you’ll have to zoom in. Let’s practice first.”
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  “Yes. Okay, good idea.” I felt honored that Zoe wanted me to be the cameraperson. She handed me the camera and explained how to zoom. We ran through Zoe’s short presentation. She started by introducing herself. “I’m Zoe Malik, and I’ll be a freshman this year at Madison West.” Then she talked about the work that she and other local gardeners had been doing all summer. She said that though they were proud to give some of their produce to local food banks, they wanted to do more. I held the camera steady and kept it focused on her face. As she gestured to the food, I slowly panned over to it.

  “The foods you see here were all prepared using ingredients grown almost all in Madison. With simple choices like these, we can cut back on the amount of salt and sugar we’re eating.” I zoomed in on the food as Zoe gave some basic nutrition information. When she compared it with the food in the photos, the difference was huge. There was so much more salt in the processed foods than there was in the wrap or in the pasta salad.

  Zoe concluded her presentation by looking right into the camera.

  “Please let local farmer’s market vendors sell their produce to the schools each week. Use the fresh fruits and vegetables as quickly as possible, or freeze them for the winter. Madison kids deserve healthy food! Thank you.”

  It was great. Zoe came across as so knowledgeable and sincere. I couldn’t imagine anyone in a position of authority saying no. Sure, it might be a bit complicated to get school lunch food from multiple sources. But who could really say that those chicken nuggets looked appetizing when they saw the alternative?

  Both Genna and I hugged Zoe.

  “Yeah, I think that was pretty good.” Zoe grinned. “I can add some graphics later. Let’s do it again. I’ll film at the garden tomorrow.”

  “Don’t forget to vary your volume a little bit as you’re speaking. You know, a bit like a newscaster?” Genna suggested. “People pay closer attention when tone is dynamic,” she added sagely.

  “And breathe, sweetheart,” Louisa added. “The first take was ever-so-slightly rushed. But wonderful.”

  When we had a few great takes, Genna said, “That’s a wrap.”

  “Yes, it is. A turkey one. Let’s eat.” Zoe grinned.

  Genna groaned but took a bite. “How’s the scone leader board looking today, Annie?”

  “I’m not checking it today,” I replied. “But I’m sure once I put Zoe’s video on my blog, I’ll shoot up into at least eighth or ninth.”

  “Totally.”

  Dear readers,

  My BFF Zoe has been working to let people know more about healthy local food options. She’s hoping to get fresh Wisconsin produce into the schools. I’m so proud of Zo’s hard work. We made a terrific video about it that I’ll post soon.

  In the meantime enjoy this pic from Zoe’s recent trip to the farmer’s market. Yay, plums!

  Love, Annie

  August 4 8:40 p.m.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Tea and water give each other life,” the Professor was saying. “The tea is still alive. This tea has tea and water vitality,” he added. “… Afterwards, the taste still happens … It rises like velvet … It is a performance.”

  —JASON GOODWIN, THE GUNPOWDER GARDENS

  The next day, I baked a plain scone at the Leaf. First, I asked Louisa about the best places to get each individual ingredient. We talked butter, and I learned that there are actually awards given out to butter makers every year. She told me about Lurpak, a Danish butter that is very light and creamy. I got some at the store and it was delicious. I felt like a bit of a traitor to my dairy state, but it seemed even Wisconsin cheese makers were enamored with the stuff, so it had to be special.

  Next up: eggs. I already knew from Zoe that getting eggs from free-range chickens is best, and it’s even better if you can get eggs that have just been laid that same day. It turns out—you’ll never believe this—that Mr. Arun, my former principal and Louisa’s current amor, has a chicken coop in his own backyard on the near east side. With one phone call Louisa promised that fresh eggs would arrive in a half hour.

  After doing some research online, I settled on King Arthur white all-purpose flour. I went to the co-op on my bike for some fresh organic buttermilk. I was ready to bake!

  I began by putting on some upbeat music—Louisa’s old Van Morrison Moondance record—and cleared my mind. I prepared some premium matcha from AOI Tea, my current favorite tea, and got busy. Just as I had pulled out every bowl I would need, Mr. Arun arrived with the eggs. They were tan in color and just a tad warm, which seemed odd. I knew it meant they were extremely fresh.

  “Thank you so much!” I exclaimed. “These are perfect. I’ll use one now and the rest tomorrow, Mr. A.” I put them away. “Would you like some tea?”

  “I would. How about a pot of chai, Annie?” He sat on a stool at the counter.

  “You got it. Louisa was just chatting with a delivery person in back. She’ll be right out.” I scooped a generous portion of chai tea into one of our green single-serving pots and added hot water. I handed it to Mr. Arun with a cup and some cream. “This tea needs to steep for three minutes,” I explained, giving him a little sand timer. We needed to order more of those; they were a big hit with the little Teashop Girls.

  “And not a moment less.” He winked, turning it over.

  I knew he was teasing me a bit, but I didn’t mind. “You can’t rush good tea, Mr. A.”

  “Are you ready for high school?” my principal—I mean former principal—asked.

  “Not really. Can you call West for me and mention that I’m a great student and should get straight A’s?” I asked with a grin. Hey, it didn’t hurt to try.

  “I’ll think about it.” He smiled back. “As long as you keep up with your homework, you’ll be just fine.” Mr. Arun was an educator, through and through. Even in the middle of summer. Louisa emerged from the back just then.

  “Hello, handsome,” she said. They smooched, and I blushed for them. I’d get used to it eventually, but not today. “Ah, chai. Smells nice. May I have a cup, Annie love?” Louisa joined us at the counter, and I fetched a cup for her that matched his. I mixed my scones and popped them into the oven.

  A half hour later, we shared some truly delicious scones. Mr. Arun, Louisa, and I tried the first three. Though the scones were plain, they were incredibly pleasant to eat. They had turned out very moist and delicious. I loved the way the jam snuck into the nooks and crannies when we spooned it on.

  “Exquisite,” Mr. Arun raved.

  “Delightful,” Louisa added, careful to swallow before she spoke. I grinned.

  I handed out every last one of them with jam and clotted cream.

  “Annie, these are … so incredibly amazing,” Theresa said with her mouth still full. “Pardon me. Yum.”

  “They’re almost creamy. And moist,” Oliver observed. “They don’t even crumble.”

  I smiled with pleasure. Was it possible that I’d actually take a plain scone to the finals if I made it? I couldn’t decide. I remembered what Tom had said about practice and vowed to make the same recipe the next day … hopefully without even looking at the recipe.

  I took close-up photos of the scones and of the ingredients I had used. I did a detailed blog post about my new scone. It turned out well. I’d forgotten how pretty white clotted cream and red jam looked against a simple scone. I used a blue plate for the shot and it really popped.

  I cleaned everything up, did my dishes, and visited each table to see if anyone needed hot water. Ling had broken up the scone sample on Hieu’s stroller tray, and he was actually eating it instead of flinging it around. “Amazing,” she said. “I think he loves it, Annie. Good job!”

  “Scone!” I looked at Hieu in surprise. I’d never heard him say it before.

  “What was that, little buddy? You like the scone?”

  “Scone!” he repeated.

  “That’s the first time I’ve heard him say that,” Ling said, pleased. “Cute. Can you say ‘Annie,
’ Hieu?”

  “Scone!” We laughed. When I went back to check the blog, I saw two new developments. First, SteepingLeafScone. com was in tenth place on the leader board. Yes!

  And second, SweetCakes was back.

  SweetCakes: Plain? Really, Steeping Leaf? Really? It’s like you’re not even trying. Pathetic.

  I turned off the computer. But not before sticking out my tongue at it.

  I wanted to make sure that Zoe knew I cared about her goal of getting local, healthy food into the schools, so I went to find her at the garden. She was pulling grape tomatoes off the vine and grinned when she saw me.

  “Hey!”

  “Hey,” I said. “Need any help?”

  “Sure.” She tossed me some gloves. The grape tomato plants dominated about a quarter of Zoe’s plot, so there were a lot of them to pick.

  “What’s happening with the video?”

  “Well, not too much. A couple of school administrators sent e-mails saying they like it, but it’s really complicated, and a lot of people are already working on the issue.”

  “Complicated how?”

  “Well, there’s only one central kitchen in Madison for all the schools. Everything is shipped from there, and heated on-site. It would be hard for one local farmer to come up with, like, three thousand pounds of carrots at once on a strict schedule. There are eighteen thousand kids to feed. Plus, the district has only thirty cents per student to spend on vegetables per day. Zero percent of Madison school lunches are sourced locally.”

  “Wow.” Zoe had done her research. I blinked at her, amazed.

  “I’ve decided that I can’t accomplish much alone, so I’m going to start volunteering with REAP Food Group when the harvesting is done here. They said that since I’m so young, I could focus my efforts on, like, social networking to educate kids and teens. I might make another video, but this time for students instead of school boards.”