With the Fire on High(34)

“What’s this with my bird?” ’Buela points.

“Polenta,” I say, and take a bite of my risotto. I close my eyes again and savor. Basil, cream . . . and a pop of something. I take another bite but still can’t place it. ’Buela says something and I chew slowly, trying to hear her past the rush in my ears.

“What’d you say?” I ask, when I come back to earth.

“I was saying, this is really good. How is yours?”

“Too good. I can’t wait to try it at home.” Babygirl murmurs agreement through a mouth full of fries.

“So how was it, miss?” the server asks as he takes away the plates.

“Really good.” And although I said I wasn’t going to say anything, I can’t keep the question to myself. “There was something in the risotto. Not the basil or cream or mushroom but something else?”

The server shakes his head with a puzzled look, crinkling his forehead. “I’m not sure. No other ingredients are listed on the menu.”

I hope my annoyance doesn’t show on my face. “Oh. Okay.”

’Buela smiles. “May I have a coffee and the check?”

“Very well,” the server says.

“Yumyumyum.” Babygirl hums under her breath and I offer her water. She takes a sip and lets it dribble down her chin and grins.

“Emma!” I look up when I feel someone behind my shoulder, hoping it’s the server so I can ask for another napkin, but my eyes land on a buttoned-up white jacket, a woman’s smiling face beneath a chef’s hat. “Everything good here, ladies?”

’Buela and I nod. “Very good. I enjoyed the polenta!” ’Buela says, and holds up her forefinger touching her thumb. I try not to groan at how excited she sounds.

“I heard there was a question about the risotto?” The chef looks at me.

My mouth goes dry. Even though I don’t know this lady, I’m starstruck by the jacket, by the Crocs and checkered pants. By the food that melted in my mouth and looked almost too pretty to eat. Chefs rarely leave their kitchens so I know it’s a big deal she decided to answer me in person.

“Umm.” Get it together, Emoni! “I tasted the basil, and cream. What might have been cremini mushrooms? But there was something else. At the back of my tongue . . . I couldn’t place it,” I say, and blush. I sound as silly as ’Buela.

“Ah, probably the orange zest. It’s just a hint. Most people can’t even taste it but it adds a bright note.” She cocks her head to the side.

“Oh! Orange zest.” I close my eyes and run my tongue along my teeth. Try to remember the flavor. “Yeah, that feels right. Orange zest.”

My eyes pop open. The server comes back and hands the check to ’Buela, who immediately swoops it under the table so I can’t see it.

“Chef, did the young lady tell you? She’s taking a culinary arts class,” the server says, and takes the check back from ’Buela with her payment.

“Are you? At the Institute?”

I shake my head. “At my high school. It just started this year with a new instructor.”

Her eyes sharpen on my face and I almost lean back from the intensity of her look. “Wait a minute, a friend of mine just started teaching a cooking class at a high school. You don’t go to a charter school near here, by any chance?”

Before I can answer ’Buela chimes in. “She does! Emoni goes to Schomburg Charter School about fifteen minutes from here on the bus. Is your friend Chef Ayden?”

The chef claps her hands together and laughs. “What a small world—one of Ayden’s students coming into my restaurant. You have a good instructor; Ayden is one of a kind. . . . Kind of a hard-ass, but he’ll teach you a lot.” Her eyes twinkle when she says it and I can tell she and Chef Ayden must know each other well.

And just in case they are friends, I keep my mouth shut about his hard-ass-ness.

She smiles at me again. “You have the taste buds, and married with the technique and work ethic you’re learning in class, you’ll acquire the holy trinity to make it in this industry. I need to get back to my kitchen, but don’t worry about today’s bill.” She waves at the server to bring the bill back. “It’s on me. Let Ayden know it was a pleasure to meet one of his students.”

I hear her chuckling under her breath as she walks away.



From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: Sunday, October 6, 10:31 PM

Subject: re: recipe

Hey Aunt Sarah,

I’m glad to hear that by the time the storm touched down near you it was mostly rain and nothing too bad. I kept my eye on the news all week and kept hoping the family would be okay. My father says the worst of the storm missed them, but I know there were power outages on the western side of the island. It was nice of you to ask how you could help; my father says they are accepting donations of boxes of canned food and bottled water. I’m attaching the information link at the end of the email.

Thanks for your last recipe for fried green tomatoes. The story of how you and my momma used to eat the green tomatoes straight from the vine made me smile. I can’t believe it was so easy for you to just walk into your backyard and pick them, especially since I struggled to find them in my neighborhood! The vendors at the vegetable stands kept looking at me like I was stupid, but I finally found some at a farmer’s market on the other side of the city.