Accidentally Engaged(58)
Reena shot a glare at Nadim, who was trying hard not to laugh while wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
“So much for a secret,” she muttered, heading into the kitchen to grab the snacks and wineglasses.
After they were settled in the living room, Reena explained: “We’re just dating. Casual. Not engaged and not telling our families.”
“Sure. Whatever. No problem,” Shayne said, dipping one of Saira’s crackers into the hummus. “Bang like bunnies, I don’t care. Marley and I saw this coming a while ago, though.”
They did? They should have done the decent thing and told Reena. “Can we not talk about our personal life right now? What are we going to do for our next video?”
“Our video.” Shayne smirked. “So now it’s our video, when before it was just yours…says the girl who didn’t want a boy toy.”
Marley frowned at Shayne. “Ignore him. Shayne’s a little salty today. Anderson dumped him. He said everything was too intense.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Shayne. That sucks.”
Shayne glared at Marley. “We are not talking about me right now. What’s the theme for the rest of the videos?”
Reena shrugged. “Round two is Farm-to-Table at Home. If we get past that one—”
“When we get past that one,” Nadim interrupted.
“Fine. When we get past that one, round three is the one at the FoodTV studios. Theme is family picnics. I think we’re supposed to be grilling for that. Then the final one, if we’re still there, is back at our home—but they send a professional camera crew. Theme is Celebrations at Home. I think with the timing they want us to do a Thanksgiving meal, but really any celebration meal would work.”
Nadim frowned. “Isn’t Thanksgiving in November?”
“That’s American Thanksgiving,” Marley explained. “In Canada, Thanksgiving is early October.”
Nadim shook his head. “You Canadians are always doing things your own way.”
Shayne nodded, clearly deep in thought. “Okay, farm-to-table…hmmm…oh, I have an idea! We could film you at a big farmers’ market or something. I hear they have them in the city now. You could pick up ingredients and bring them home and make a meal with them. We can even speak to a farmer.” He beamed with pride.
Reena raised one brow. “A farmers’ market? Really?”
“Sure! It’s original.”
Marley laughed. “Farmers’ markets are hardly original these days.”
Reena nodded. “I can pretty much guarantee that everyone will do the farmers’ market, then cook-at-home thing.”
“We need to wow them,” Nadim said, inching even closer to Reena. “What if we made your table look like a farm. You know, scarecrows and hay bales and stuff.”
“That’s terrible,” Marley said, looking around Reena’s knockoff modern furniture. “I am not putting Reena in overalls. She’s way too city.”
Reena grinned, the start of an idea forming. “What if we take this city girl to a real farm?”
Shayne cringed. “What farm? You going to drag us all to one of those U-pick places with the big MDF pumpkins with holes to stick your head in for pictures?”
Reena smirked. “Hell no. Amira’s boyfriend’s parents have a hobby farm about an hour and a half away.”
“And they’d let us film there?”
“Yeah, I think they would. They just offered me some fresh eggs and goat milk. I’ve seen pictures of the place on Amira’s social, wait.”
She queued up some pictures from Instagram of her friend feeding the chickens and goats. The spot looked utterly adorable and perfectly hipster-chic, with weathered wood animal pens, rolling hills, and straw-colored fields in the distance. Amira was, of course, feeding the chickens in a pencil skirt. A denim one, but still.
Shayne grinned. “It’s perfect. Set it up, Reena.”
Reena immediately called Amira, who promptly agreed to call the Galahads and get back to them. They didn’t have to wait long. Her phone rang a scant ten minutes later with enthusiastic affirmatives that they could borrow the farm on Saturday, a list of the vegetables in season, and a warm offer to use whatever they needed.
“Not sure any of these will work,” Reena said, looking over the list she had jotted down: potatoes, carrots, beets, and acorn squash. We already did a vegetable curry and potato bhajias.”
Shayne let out an excited squeal. “Potatoes! Finally! Curried shepherd’s pie!”
Reena cringed. “No fusion. We’re not colonizing our food.” She bit her lip as she racked her mind for a home-style Indian recipe that showcased these ingredients.
“Wait,” Nadim said, “didn’t you say they had eggs and goat milk, too?”
“Yes. Goats and chickens are the only animals they keep.”
He smiled. “My mother came from Zanzibar. After she died, my father used to send me by ferry from Dar es Salaam to spend weeks with her mother, my nani. He said he didn’t want me losing touch with that side of the family. Nani used to make this dish all the time—a curry with hard-boiled eggs, potatoes, and local spices. It’s a Zanzibar specialty. I’ve only ever had it there, and it totally reminds me of home.” He glanced at Reena, a wistful look in his eyes. “I remember Zanzibar always smelling like spices—it’s one of the island’s biggest exports. Anyway, Nani died when I was twelve, and I’ve barely been back there since, but…” He turned away, exhaling. “I’m sure egg curry would be spectacular with farm-fresh eggs and local potatoes.”