by Ellerbe, Lyn
Dear Chef: Could you settle an argument, well not really an argument, more of a disagreement... no really it was just a discussion… Is all Italian food the same or is there a difference in regions? I thought I remembered hearing about two regions…North and south, or east and west… not sure, but John, Calvin, and I were talking about it and they think I’m crazy. Jess wouldn’t settle it for us, because, well, I promised not to tell so never mind why she wouldn’t help us. Am I right? Please, please, I hope so. The guys were so smug! Thanks! Aurora
He could actually hear her in his head. Some would call it flightiness; he found it intoxicating. Following her thought pattern was like a roller coaster ride. The mention of the two young men who he was sorely tempted to flunk brought a slight frown to his face. At least she’s still willing to talk to me, even if it’s only via computer. Better make this worth it.
Dear Aurora: (this was the first time he had ventured to use her first name. He always thought of her as Princess Aurora, not the nickname Rori that everyone else seemed to love). I am happy to oblige. Yes, you are very correct. The terrain in the Northern part of Italy is quite different from the Southern lands, and therefore two distinct cuisine styles have emerged. The Northern region is most similar to France, its neighbor, and the Southern region is more like what an American would think of as Italian food. But even within these two divisions, there are smaller regions with their own distinct characteristics. This would be a great choice for you and Miss Johnston for your final project. I would be glad to assist in any way. ~Marcus.
He hesitated, considering deleting his last sentence. In his head he heard Jake say, “Suck it up, big guy, and go for it!” He hit the send button before he changed his mind.
A Slice of Quiche
Marcus felt like a spy. He was determined to locate the mysterious art studio where Aurora spent much of her time. He had already stopped by the after school program and glanced in to make sure she was teaching today. That way he could scope out the dungeon, as Miss Johnston termed it, without the danger of running into Rori.
He could smell the paint fumes and hear the music as he got closer. He hesitated. Great plan Sherlock, what are you going to do now? Step inside and say ‘I’m stalking one of your students, could you please show me her work?’
Before he could decide on advancing or retreating, the head of the art department who was also the professor in charge of the seniors and graduate school students stepped out of his office, almost colliding with Marcus.
“Professor Smith,” Marcus offered his hand. “We met at the incoming staff orientation a couple months ago.”
“Yes, Chef MacRae, isn’t it?” Rori’s favorite instructor asked. “What can I do for you? We don’t normally see the culinary staff down here in the basement unless they’re lost.”
“No, this was an intentional foray,” Marcus laughed. Quick, think of something!
“Perhaps you need an illustrator for a cookbook, or a piece of abstract art featuring large tomatoes and cucumbers for your new digs?” Professor Smith had an outrageous sense of humor, which was endearing to some and annoying to others.
Thank you, Lord! Marcus breathed silently.
“As a matter of fact,” Marcus latched onto the lifeline the art teacher threw out, “Professor Hampton suggested we compile a cook book each year from favorite recipes of our students. It wouldn’t necessarily be anything fancy, but I think some nice, simple illustrations would add a unique touch.”
“Well, the seniors and grad students are up to their eyeballs in work because of the big art show next weekend, but I will think about who might be a good fit. What’s the timeline on it?”
“Oh, we’re just in the thinking stages right now.” Thankfully, this was not a lie since Jake did in fact mention this once, a long time ago. Actually, it was a really long time ago, like six years ago in culinary school.
“Perfect.” The art instructor walked back down the hall with Marcus, “you should come to the art show. I think one of my most promising students is actually in your evening class.”
“Oh, really?” Marcus feigned surprise.
“Yes,” Dr. Smith continued, “Rori Sinclair. Actually it’s Aurora Sinclair but most people call her Rori or Princess, which I assume is a reference to some fairy tale.” The elderly widower must not have a young granddaughter, Marcus thought.
“Yes,” Marcus answered, “Aurora is actually in my class. I appreciate you considering the illustrations, but again, there’s no hurry.” He couldn’t really think of anything else to say, afraid to give away a hint of his real level of interest in the young lady.
“Would you like to look around the studio at the pieces in progress?”
The professor’s offer terrified and thrilled Marcus at the same time.
“I wouldn’t want to disturb any of the artists,” Marcus stammered. He knew Rori was not in the studio, but wasn’t sure he wanted any of her compatriots to know of his interest.
“Oh, no one’s in the studio right now. Most of them are at lunch, except for Rori,” Dr. Smith explained. “She’s teaching upstairs. Even if they were here, though, artists always welcome an excuse to take a break and talk about their masterpieces.”
As they moved through the chaotic art space, Marcus smiled at the similarity between Rori’s kitchen area during class and the disarray of most of the art student’s areas. As he looked around, he spotted Rori’s work immediately. Although he had just met the young woman, he felt such a deep connection to her already that her pieces seemed to scream for his attention.
The professor was pointing out various works around the studio, but Marcus focused on Rori’s work, which was nestled in the far corner. He did not hide his distraction well enough, though, and the professor wisely led the way to Rori’s area. It was obvious to the older man that the young chef was smitten. Dr. Smith smiled to himself. It was also obvious that Mr. MacRae was trying desperately to hide his interest. Ever the romantic, the art professor decided to help the young man.
“Rori’s work in particular is quite interesting,” Professor Smith said, “especially for those who do not know the delightful young lady very well. Some of it is already wrapped up for transport to the gallery, but there are enough her to give you a sense of her style. It is quite eclectic. She seems fall in love with every new technique she tries.”
Marcus was stunned. The paintings ranged from large vibrant, abstract landscapes, to smaller, strangely calming watercolors. They seemed to mirror perfectly what little he knew of this fascinating woman. In her works he saw the lively Rori he saw in class that railed against his instruction and drove him to the point of frustration and the contrite, playful Rori he conversed with each night. As he stared at her work, a smaller piece caught his eye.
“This one looks quite different from the others. Is this going to be part of the show?” The title of the piece made him smile.
“She did that one afternoon, on a whim, apparently,” Dr. Smith said. “It is quite haunting at first glance, but the more you look at it, the more a sense of hope comes over you. I find it fascinating. Rori doesn’t want to sell it for some reason. I think it holds some sort of meaning to her.”
“Fascinating,” Marcus said quietly. Aurora’s Castle. Haunting was a good description. An overwhelming desire to find a coat of armor and a white stallion popped into his mind. Realizing that he may not be able to hide his feelings much longer from the astute professor, Marcus moved on to some of the other students’ work, hoping his questions did not sound as insincere as they felt. Being so close to what was obviously an extremely personal space for her was making it hard for Marcus to think of anything but Rori.
“Thank you, Dr. Smith,” Marcus finally said, hiding his panic as he heard students in the hallway. “I appreciate the tour. I will get back to you on the other matter.”
“Certainly,” Dr. Smith said. Trying to better gauge the level of interest, he added, “I think you would really enjoy the art show, too. Many
of the pieces will be available for purchase, too, if you’ve seen anything you like here. It’s at five o’clock next Saturday at the downtown art gallery. Hope to see you there.” Dr. Smith couldn’t help but laugh at the hasty retreat the chef made. Too bad Rori wasn’t in the group of artists Marcus passed as he fled the scene. That would have been an interchange worth witnessing.
As the students entered the building that evening, they were once again greeted with the marvelous aroma of bacon. The topic of tonight’s class was quiche. Marcus was hoping to teach them all the art of a perfect piecrust and have them hone their cutting and mixing skills on the relatively easy recipes. He definitely was not of the chauvinist opinion that real men don’t eat quiche.
The fabulous foursome as Marcus thought of Rori, Jessica, and the two young men stalking them, arrived together, laughing at some inside joke. The instructor had never taken two students in such dislike before. Hopefully John and Calvin did not sense his annoyance.
“Tonight, class, we will be making quiche,” the chef began. “This will entail you mastering a perfect piecrust, which, if you follow the instructions carefully, can be done, I promise!” He tried to keep his tone light, hoping that pretending to be in a good mood would translate itself into actuality.
Glancing over at Aurora and Jess’s table, he saw her dramatically rub her stomach. He completely lost his train of thought. She’s an enchantress. Stay away! His mind warned him. He could almost hear Jake’s voice laughing at him.
“We will begin with a piecrust demonstration and then you will find eight different recipes and the ingredients for each of the fillings, here at my station. You may come and choose which to make. Each one will involve some practice with your knife skills and I will be coming around to check on your progress.”
For the piecrust instruction, the class gathered around John and Calvin’s station, because it was the biggest of the student areas. Chef carefully showed them the steps to mixing the flour, butter, and water, and how to delicately roll out the dough. Each partnership would make two pies and the crusts would chill in the refrigerators while they prepared the fillings.
Making piecrusts was a skill that didn't worry Rori. Even Jess agreed that she made a marvelous apple pie. The roommates decided to each make one of the crusts, and were placing their creations in the refrigerator when Chef told the class they should be completing their crusts and should move on to the quiche fillings.
Rori and Jess had chosen a quiche Lorraine recipe and had gathered their ingredients. Hoping to avoid being scrutinized by Marcus over her cutting skills, Rori chopped her chives and bacon first. She glanced at the chef out of the corner of her eye and realized he had started his inspections on the other side of the class.
“I’m sure he started over there on purpose, so he can save my awesome skills for last,” she whispered to Jess, who couldn’t hold back her bark of laughter. Marcus glanced at the pair and raised a suspicious eyebrow.
Because this was such an important evaluation time, it did in fact take the chef most the class time to get to their side of the room. By then many of the groups were removing their cooked quiches from the oven. He ended his evaluations two stations away from them with the Watkins, an older couple who were taking the class purely for enjoyment. Since their vegetable quiche was already baking, he asked both of them to chop a carrot so he could evaluate their skills, praising both for their progress.
“All right, class,” Chef announced, “that evaluation took longer than expected. If your quiches are ready, please cut a piece and I will come around and give you some feedback. Those that did not get to show me your improved knife skills, I will get to later.” He looked pointedly at Jess and Aurora.
“Anyone else that wants to taste the creations may do so, too,” he added as he cut a piece of John and Calvin’s quiche. He scribbled some notes in the grade book and nodded to the two young men. “Flaky crust, vegetables cooked well. You might consider a little more salt next time, but overall quite nice.”
His evaluations of the next few quiches were similar. Each pair was able to take any leftover quiches with them and leave when Chef finished tasting theirs, but most everyone stayed so they could try all the delicious creations.
Only three groups’ quiches were left to be tasted when he moved to Aurora and Jess. They had already cut a piece for him and placed it neatly on a plate. Aurora remembered hearing, “You eat with your eyes first,” and being an artist this statement made perfect sense to her. She had taken special care to cut a neat piece and had added a garnish of a couple of green onion sprigs.
“Nice presentation,” Marcus noted. “You two ladies did not get to show me your knife skills, but it looks like these ingredients were cut by a pro,” Marcus tried to keep his tone upbeat.
Thinking to make a joke, he continued, “Are you sure, Miss Sinclair, that Miss Johnston didn’t do all the work here?”
Her exhaustion from the studio hours she was keeping, and the fact that he seemed determined to dislike her, set the normally cheerful coed on edge.
“Excuse me?” she blurted. “I will have you know I did all the chopping for this recipe, thank you very much.”
“Prove it,” he snapped as his frustration over his reaction to this woman won over his determination to remain calm and pleasant. He could always blame it on his Scottish ancestry and stereotypical redheaded temperament. He grabbed a carrot and slammed it on her cutting board.
Thankfully, the rest of the class had decided this was a perfect time to clean up their stations and quietly moved away from the clash of personalities playing out before them.
Rori’s hands were shaking with anger and she attempted to finely dice half the carrot and julienne the other half.
“Ouch!” she cried as the knife slipped and blood appeared on the end of her ring finger. Thankfully, it was not her left hand, which would have greatly hampered her next few days in the studio.
Chef leapt into action, as did Jess, who grabbed their first aid kit. Each station in the classroom was equipped with one, since such accidents were quite common occurrences in beginning cooking classes.
Marcus grabbed Rori’s hand and thrust it under the faucet, running cold water over the cut.
“You fool,” he sputtered. What Rori did not know was that he was speaking to himself, not to her. He foolishly let his frustration over his feelings for this young lady put her in danger.
As Jess held out the bandage for him after he dried off Rori’s finger, she asked Marcus quietly, “Do you want me to release the rest of the class?”
“Yes, please,” he nodded in gratitude. “Have those that I have not evaluated leave me two pieces of quiche and a piece of paper with their email address. I will taste them and send them feedback tonight.”
Jess turned to the class and relayed these instructions, adding on her own, “Don’t worry about cleaning up, we will take care of it.” In response to John and Calvin’s concern, she assured them that Rori was fine.
“She’ll be okay. She’s just mad at herself and no, it’s not her drawing hand, thank goodness.”
Aurora’s heart was beating wildly. It wasn’t from the pain in her finger, she reluctantly admitted. It was from the closeness of this man. How could someone infuriate her and fascinate her at the same time? She could smell his aftershave and hear his breathing as he practically manhandled her in his effort to make up for her clumsiness.
“You two unfortunately will have to stay to help me tonight,” Marcus broke the news to them as he dried his hands and wiped up the tiny spots of blood on Rori’s station. Thankfully, no blood had gotten on their quiche. “As you know part of the class is learning to evaluate and critique gourmet food, so tonight you two will get your turn.”
“Then we’ll help clean up,” Jess added. “I told the class they could go without finishing their stations. I thought it was more important to get them out of here.”
“That’s fine, but unnecessary,” Chef didn’t think he cou
ld stand to watch Aurora do such a patently domestic task as cleaning up several kitchens. Watching her with the children this afternoon had been difficult enough.
“It’s the least I can do,” Rori said quietly. Jess watched her roommate with concern. Rori’s feelings for this man were evident to her, and she knew that tonight’s incident had rattled her sensitive friend. Jess also had suspicions about Marcus after watching him watch Rori each night during class.
Chef moved to the first station that had quiches left for evaluation. There were two plates and two forks. Without thinking, he handed one fork to Jess, and with the other fed a bite to Aurora and then took one himself. The intimacy of the gesture made Jess’s eyes widen. They have no idea that they are completely and utterly infatuated with each other, Jess realized.
Marcus walked them through the process of evaluating the crust and uniformity of the ingredients as well as the overall taste and texture of the quiche. He was thankful that both Miss Johnston and Aurora were able to give him good, insightful feedback. As a bonus, the Princess did not like John and Calvin’s quiche at all.
Since the pair insisted on cleaning up the food lab, Marcus provided Aurora with a glove to cover her injury. He busied himself at his station and in his office. Low murmurs replaced their typically cheerful chatter. He missed the craziness that usually surrounded the genie that haunted his life.
“Thank you, ladies,” Chef finally dismissed them. “I will finish up. It is getting late. Don’t forget tomorrow’s class is early since it is Saturday. We are doing breads, both yeast and quick, so it will take our entire three hours.”
They collected their things and headed for the door. Aurora stopped as she heard him call her name.
“Miss Sinclair, you are going to be all right, yes?” He seemed to be asking and demanding at the same time.
“Yes,” Rori answered, enigmatically as well. “I think so.”
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Are you sure you are okay? The words blinked at her. His email was already in her inbox when she arrived home less than ten minutes later. Jess had refused to let her go to the studio.