Accidentally Engaged(30)
A small smile pushed through her sour mood. She’d been thinking the same thing, albeit she would have said it a bit differently. The point of this contest was to showcase home-cooked food. Fusion had its time and place, but with all the crap minorities were facing in the world, she didn’t feel much like making the food she grew up on more palatable to mainstream tastes.
“They want home cooking, so let’s give them the kind of food we grew up on,” Reena said, sitting straighter. “What was your favorite after-school snack when you were little?”
Nadim frowned. “At boarding school, they gave us tea and two biscuits. No more, no less.”
“Poor little rich boy.” Shayne laughed.
Marley’s forehead furrowed as she tapped her nails on the table. “Probably celery and peanut butter for me. Or Oreos.”
Reena chuckled. “Indian food, Marl…”
“I didn’t really eat Indian food after school. Oh, if there was leftover maani from dinner, I sometimes ate it with jam.”
Reena smiled widely, remembering her favorite snack. “Yes. Leftover maani with strawberry jam. Or, even better, with butter and sugar.” Her mouth started to water.
“Maani is like roti, right?” Shayne asked.
Reena nodded. “Roti, chapatti, rotli, maani, it’s all pretty much the same thing.”
“Forget leftover,” Nadim said, his eyes glazing with pleasure. “Fresh. My housekeeper used to make fresh maani after school for me. I’d eat them with ripe mangoes.”
Reena rolled her eyes with exaggeration. “Well, we peasants had to make do with leftovers.” She squeezed her lips together in thought. Mum had kicked little-girl Reena out of the kitchen so many times while she cooked, but the smell of fresh maani roasting over the stove felt like home.
“Maani is the homiest food we have, right?” Reena said, reaching for a slice of sourdough. “We should make it for the first video.”
“Just maani?” Nadim asked.
Reena grinned widely now. “Maybe something simple like aloo gobi to go with it, but the maani will be the star. Nothing represents Indian home cooking better, whatever they call it.”
They continued to plan for the video while eating. It needed to be sent in by Sunday, so they were on a bit of a time crunch. The plan was for Marley to dig through their closets on Wednesday to decide on their wardrobe, then film Thursday evening. Shayne would have plenty of time to edit it on the weekend, and they could submit it Sunday night.
*
Thursday came, and the four of them were crowded in Reena’s kitchen. Marley fluffed Reena’s curls while Shayne placed LED lights on long black poles. They’d already been waiting an hour for Shayne to finish setting up, and Reena was getting a little impatient with his constant “almost got its.” Especially since Marley had rejected the sensible business casual and yoga pants in Reena’s closet, instead squeezing her into skinny jeans about two sizes too tight and black high-heeled ankle booties a size too small. Nadim fared better, as Marley had found appropriate clothes in his own closet—dark wash jeans and a blue V-neck sweater. The royal blue looked amazing against his warm skin, and thankfully, Marley insisted he keep his douche beard shaved off.
“How come I don’t get an apron?” Nadim asked, tugging on the pale blue apron tied around Reena’s waist.
“I’ll do the cooking. You’re here for amusing banter and endless admiration.” Reena glanced at the items she had laid out on the counter. Whole wheat durum atta flour, canola oil, salt, and warm water. She’d insisted on using locally grown canola oil and flour, as it would give her an interesting fact to talk about during the clip. The video needed to be five minutes long, and when they’d rehearsed it yesterday, filling the time with something other than just rolling out maani proved to be a challenge. Closer to the stove, precut cauliflower and potatoes waited for her, along with a bowl of peas and a gleaming new polished stainless-steel masala dabba holding little round pots of fragrant spices.
“Okay, guys, almost there,” Shayne said.
“Finally.” Reena moved into position. “These shoes are killing me. Why do I have to wear them? No one will see my feet behind the counter.”
“Needed you a touch taller,” Marley said.
“Not making much of a difference,” Reena muttered. “Still too short.”
Nadim looked down at her. “I like you pocket-size. Hey, is that our engagement ring?” He pointed at the wide, silver-toned ring with clear rhinestones channel-set throughout.
“Yep. And it’s already turning my finger green. Shayne swears he didn’t get it from a gumball machine, but I don’t know.”
“Okay, I’m ready,” Shayne said.
A few seconds of getting into position, and Shayne yelled, “Action!”
Reena froze, staring at the camera. This had been easier with gin. Nadim poked her hip.
“Hello! I’m Reena! And this is my…” She looked up at Nadim, unsure if she could say the word.
“…fiancé, Nadim.” He smiled that charming camera-ready smile “Today we’re making—”
“Maani. Also called Chapatti,” Reena interrupted. “And aloo gobi matar.”
“Cut!” Shayne said, shaking his head. “Stop with the finishing each other’s sentences. You sound like Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”