With the Fire on High(35)
But, let me tell you, the journey was worth it! Them things were delicious! I fried them like you said, but I used a little bit of panko breadcrumbs in the dredge. Then I paired them with queso frito and some basil, and it was like a homestyle take on caprese salad.
I’m going to try the recipe again this week and I’ll send you my remix once I have it exactly right. Thanks again for the invite to come down during Christmas break. I don’t think I can travel down on the bus with Babygirl by myself, and I wouldn’t want to leave her, but I hope to make it down sometime.
With love & cinnamon dust,
E
Taste Buds
Although my Sunday was transformed from a clustermess into a nice memory, Monday rolls around and I’ve overslept, Babygirl is late for daycare, and ’Buela keeps chewing my head off about the smallest things, and by the time I make it to the bus stop I’ve missed Angelica and Advisory. And what doesn’t help my bad mood is that I still haven’t made a decision about Culinary Arts. I have one period after lunch to decide whether I’m going to go or not, and I know that if I tack on too many more absences I’m going to have to drop the class simply because I’ll be failing it. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but luckily lunch rolls around and I have Angelica to take my mind off any decisions.
By the time I meet up with her at our table she’s visibly trembling with excitement.
“You don’t understand, Emoni. It was so perfect.”
I nod and smile. “Tell me everything. Why was it so perfect?”
“So it was perfect not just because of the movie Laura streamed, which was funny and romantic. Or the deep conversations we had, or the wine Laura brought from her father’s house. I was so nervous I was giggling and Laura just reached out and . . . well, that part was perfect, too. All of it.”
Something inside me stops laughing at her dreamy expression. My girl is truly in love and I’m choked up at having been a part of making that night special for her.
“Emoni, the food? I’ve had your cooking a dozen times, but there was one point where Laura and I both put our forks down and just grinned like little kids because we were so happy. And I think the meal had something to do with it because I had some of the leftovers last night and I just felt all warm and fuzzy and loved inside. If I ever have that chimi-chimi sauce again, I’ll think of that night.”
I laugh. “It’s chimichurri sauce, Angelica. And I’m glad you liked it. I told you I put a little extra heat in it, and it sounds like you added more than enough spice to the rest of the night.”
And then I’m struck stupid because in all the time I’ve known her, I’ve never seen Angelica blush. But she does. Her brown skin warms up with a tinge of pink in the cheeks as she snorts on her sandwich.
New Beginnings
When the bell rings for my last class before Culinary Arts, I’m out the door with the quickness. I want to get there before any of the other students. By the time I arrive at class I’m out of breath and huffing, but I still make sure not to slam the door behind me.
Chef Ayden looks up with a start when he hears my heavy breathing. I can’t read the look on his face. Inscrutable, Ms. Fuentes would call it.
“Emoni, long time.” Chef Ayden closes his laptop with a soft click. He stuffs his hands into his soft, checkered chef’s pants. “We missed you last week.”
“I just . . . I’m not a quitter. I didn’t understand why you were asking me to throw away food or follow the recipe exactly even though my instincts told me it would taste better differently. I didn’t get it. But I think I do now. And I wanted to say . . .”
What did I want to say?
Chef waits. The moment stretches into the yard beyond awkward and enters the goal post of embarrassing. He raises his right eyebrow.
I clear my throat and I know my face is burning. “I wanted to say, I promise to work hard. To try my best to follow directions. Because I think about creating food all the time and even though I know a lot . . . I can learn more. I went to a restaurant over the weekend; the head chef says she knows you? It was Café Sorrel. Seeing her in her coat, and tasting her food, it not only made me realize I want to keep getting my technique down in this class, it made me realize I can be like her one day—an executive chef.”
Chef doesn’t say anything. He just keeps blinking at me with his head cocked. My chest deflates. I don’t think he can kick me out of class, not with only four absences. But I also don’t want him to hate me. I swallow back a knot that collects in my throat. Look down at the long metal table where we present our dishes. I missed being in class, and I didn’t know how much until this moment.
“Lisa is an excellent chef. I’m glad you were able to try her food. As for your absences, we’ve been looking for someone in class to lead the fund-raising campaign for the trip to Spain. One day you might own a restaurant, or be head chef, and honing your leadership skills now will be useful. Would you like to head that committee?”
I hear everything he’s saying, but it’s like each piece of information is a bit of colored glass and I need hold it up to the light to see how it shines. Chef Ayden isn’t angry with me. Chef Ayden thinks I could own or be head chef of a restaurant one day. Chef Ayden wants me to lead a fund-raising committee.