Made In Portugal

by Ana Newfolk

  One decision, however, was plenty easy to make. I knew I wanted to work with food. Baking and cooking was something I did with my mom, and now it was all I had left from her.

  Every day after school she’d insist I finish my homework and then we could bake. When what I made was good enough she would put it out front for sale. I still remember the first day that had happened. I’d been intrigued by the photo of a recipe for a chickpea tart because it looked so delicious even though I was sure that a dessert made with chickpeas wouldn’t taste sweet. Mom encouraged me to try it and let me follow the recipe on my own. I did and the end result was a delicious tasting tart that sold out that afternoon.

  We also cooked most of our meals together. She liked making traditional Portuguese food, and even when we tried other cuisines like Chinese and Indian she always adamant that our food was far better.

  As soon as I finished high school I put the apron on and have been baking for Café Lima ever since.

  I love my job, I’m always ambitious and spent the last few years experimenting and creating new pastries for the café, which have always been a success, but the most-wanted item on the menu is by far the traditional custard tart. Most days I bake a couple hundred of the things, which can be a little monotonous and only the recent additions to my kitchen in the form of a few industrial size appliances have stopped me from developing repetitive strain injury.

  I also love the early mornings. Who would have guessed that the little kid who repeatedly asked for five more minutes in bed for the first half hour of each day would now be a happy early riser? Yep, I loved getting up before the rest of the world and walking up to the café, turning the lights on and doing what I believed I was born to do.

  Most days in the summer I also got up a little earlier and went to the beach for a run before even the sun was up.

  Today was one of those few summer days when I was unable to make my daily run because we were hosting a family dinner in the café after hours, so there had been a lot to do since first thing this morning.

  Joel, my childhood best friend, was back from New York. He’d moved there when we were ten and the last time we saw each other we were both fourteen. Now Joel was back home, and while it was for a sad occasion, it also served to bring the family together.

  Tonight both Joel's family and mine were celebrating Joel being home and remembering his parents.

  As for me, I was currently in the corner of the kitchen which served as a standing office having a mild panic attack. I checked that everything was running on schedule for the hundredth time. I knew how to cater for a dinner party and could do it with my eyes closed, but this was a special occasion because of the relationship Sílvia had with my mom, and I wanted to do the best for the family.

  While these events didn't happen very often, I was quite used to them. The early closing hours of Café Lima meant I was able to bring in some additional income by hiring out space and catering for family dinners and birthday parties as well as the occasional small wedding. It also gave me an opportunity to experiment with the dessert menu as well as serving some of my mom's homemade recipes.

  Tonight was a family dinner so I felt a traditional home cooked meal would work well. I hoped a green cabbage soup with chorizo for the starter, a monkfish cataplana for the main course and a three-chocolate mousse for dessert would hit the spot.

  Patricia, one of the local students I often hired when I needed extra help came to get her apron to start her shift.

  “Olá David, how are you? Thanks for calling me in, you know I’m always happy to help you.”

  She smiled and came close for a hug. Too close for my liking and I knew I had to have a word with her, but I just wasn’t in the right frame of mind to do it now.

  “Olá Patricia. I’m ok, can you find Paulo? He’ll tell you what you need to do. Obrigado.”

  Her smile faltered as she nodded and turned around to find Paulo.

  I already felt like I was on edge, I didn’t need girl drama adding to the situation.

  I hadn't seen Joel since we were fourteen. We grew up pretty much inseparable as a result of our mothers being best friends, but things changed when Joel had to move away to New York with his parents.

  We’d still seen each other every year in the summer when Joel spent the school holidays in Portugal, so I was curious to know why he hadn’t ever come back, even when his parents did.

  That last summer we spent together was a defining time, at least for me, so I was feeling unsure about where we stood with each other. I hoped we would be able to rekindle our friendship.

  Straightening my back with a deep breath and placing the task list on my desk I went back out of the kitchen to the café that was now doubling as the event room.

  The tables were lined up to make one long table which we had dressed very unpretentiously, after all this was an informal family dinner, and I wanted everybody to feel comfortable and relaxed; even if I was somehow struggling to manage that myself.

  As the guests started to arrive, I focused on welcoming everybody. I knew Joel's grandparents very well, they were regulars at the café and as much family as my own. Joel's aunt and uncle lived in a different town, so they didn't drop by as often, same with his cousins but we had all grown up in the same neighborhood, so everybody was on a first name basis. It really felt like a family occasion, and I had a pang of longing thinking of my mom and how much she’d love to be here today.

  I didn't have to look up to know Joel had arrived. As I was setting some appetizers on the table, I heard the chattering increase followed by louder happy voices of greeting. Joel was distracted with his family which was just as good because I was transfixed and couldn't take my eyes off him.

  Joel looked great, he had grown tall, probably thanks to his American side, maybe six foot two, quite a contrast to my own five foot nine built frame. His light blond hair was a shade darker than it used to be, and I couldn’t quite see his eyes from where I was standing but I still remember how they used to be so blue that I would stare at them whenever he wasn’t paying attention.

  Being around pastries and food daily was very tempting, so I made sure I worked out as often as I could after my shifts. I was proud of my toned arms, broad chest and defined abs. Still staring at him, my thoughts took me in an unexpected direction, and I wondered if under his button up shirt Joel had some definition to his lithe body.

  Merda, I had to get myself under control.

  Joel looked over as if he could read my thoughts and my stomach clenched. Suddenly I forgot to breathe as our eyes locked. Even from afar they were the same hypnotizing bright blue. He didn't give me time to get over the moment because he strode towards me and in a few steps I was enveloped in a fresh shower gel scented hug. I'm sure it only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime as I breathed him in and felt his arms snake tight around my back.

  "David, it's so good to see you. God, it's been so long." Joel said before he let go, his smile so bright it lit up the room. I took a moment to catch my breath, feeling my Adam's apple bob up and down, and hoping he wouldn’t think I was a brainless mess. Come on David, you’re a normal person, behave like one.

  "Hey Joel,” I choked, “welcome home. When did you get in?" My voice finally finding its way out.

  "Just this morning. It's great to be back and seeing the whole family here together is just awesome." Joel smiled. "Thanks for letting us use the café. Grandma said you own the place now."

  "Yeah, technically it’s mine since it was mom’s, but my aunt and uncle manage it with me. It's more of a family business.” Merda, I was rambling. “Do you want to take a seat? We're going to start serving soon" it was all I could say to excuse myself towards the kitchen.

  I went back through the double doors leading to the kitchen and went to the opposite side to the standing office. There was a panel that separated the area from the kitchen, so I was able to lean against the wall and go unnoticed hoping to get a hold of myself.

 
Jesus, what was happening to me? My heart was racing, and my hands suddenly felt clammy, but there was also this odd sensation of rightness. There was no time to figure out what it all meant, and this definitely wasn't the place. Both families were counting on me to deliver a good meal, and that's what I would do. I wanted to honor the memory of my mother as well as Joel’s parents Sílvia and Gary.

  By the time I came out of my hiding place, all the guests were seated and waiting to be served.

  I looked for a spare seat at the long dining table, and when I found my spot, I looked over towards the kitchen and nodded at the staff to start serving the starter. I sat down, and when I looked up, I realized that Joel was sitting right across from me. He looked slightly flushed and his smile a little more nervous, a contrast to his earlier demeanor. Was he feeling as discombobulated as I was?

  I ran my hands through my hair and smiled back hoping my expression read "let's be friends" rather than "I think I'm stupidly attracted to you."

  "So Joel," Aunt Teresa said from a few seats down "how long are you staying with us? We haven't seen you for such a long time we hope we have a chance to see you at the café often."

  "I'm staying a few weeks. I'm hoping to catch up with the whole family and also explore a bit" Joel offered, his eyes landing on me with what looked like a hopeful gaze.

  Hopeful? Did he want to reconnect as much as I did? I wanted to talk to him, ask him why he hadn’t come back, what was his life like in New York. I wanted to tell him what his mom did for me when mine died, and needed to hug him and tell him I was sorry for his loss. But I couldn’t, not now. I just hoped I’d have the chance later.

  Everybody settled in comfortable conversation during the starter praising the food which made me immensely proud.

  "It's nothing to do with me really, I'm using mom's recipes so you really can't go wrong," I said hoping to deflect the attention.

  "Oh, my goodness,” Aunt Teresa said, “I remember when Paula went to our mom, who was a hopeless cook, and said she wanted to learn how to cook. Of course, that didn’t work out.”

  I smiled to myself having heard this story before.

  Avó Violeta, Joel’s grandmother continued,” and then she started sitting with me in the kitchen every day when I was cooking our dinner, and she'd ask so many questions. I didn't realize what her plan was until she'd been doing it for weeks, so I started teaching her the basics. She was so talented and had such a good knack for flavor."

  My chest felt tight as I listened to the memories of my mom. Sometimes I wished I could access everybody's minds and capture all those memories for myself. People that knew my mom often talked about her, sharing bits here and there. It felt as though she was still here with me and I was so proud that she was a well-liked and respected woman who fought hard against the single mother stereotype by building a thriving local business. I wondered if wherever she was, she was proud of what I’d done with the café.

  "Do you remember when Sílvia and Paula went on a school trip to Ovar and they had some Pão de Ló? When they came back, Paula spent days trying to bake one, and both she and Sílvia nearly ended up in the hospital with food poisoning because they had used old eggs and the cake was undercooked?" This story came from Joel's uncle talking about a particular Portuguese traditional cake that has a soft center. "It was hilarious, they were so ill and swore they would never eat another cake ever again. That lasted about a week!" There was laughter all round as they remembered the two best friends fondly.

  I looked up at Joel who looked as though he was wrapped up in all the stories and lapping it all up.

  I guessed that Joel wouldn’t have heard some of them before. I felt sad for him. While I had a constant reminder of my mom by courtesy of all the local acquaintances, Joel wasn't as lucky. Being away for so long Joel missed on seeing his mom in her home environment surrounded by the family she grew up with.

  Joel would have different memories of his mom living in a whole new continent, a different culture and also in one of the most exciting cities in the world, New York. I sincerely hoped I would have a chance to hear about that part of his life while he was here.

  I would have to find a way to get close to Joel again, and as I dug the dessert spoon in the perfect lightness of my chocolate mousse, I realized I had the perfect excuse.

  Throughout dinner there were so many conversations and people to catch up with. Earlier today Avó Violeta had called to ask if I could cater for two more people. I’d said yes, of course, and then was pleasantly surprised when I saw Chico and Mariana join us, without the twins, who apparently were at a sleepover.

  Chico is a good friend, a local mechanic. Aunt Teresa uses him exclusively when her car needs something done to it. His services are often exchanged for custard tarts or celebration cakes. Unfortunately, I don’t see Mariana as often because she owns a clothing shop and works long hours.

  I spent so much of dinner catching up with Chico and Mariana, that I barely spoke to my aunt and uncle.

  Aunt Teresa was visibly proud of the quality of the food and the ambiance of the gathering. She had a keen eye for business, something both her and mom had done well together. Even though this was a family and close friends event, I knew that word of mouth was everything, and I could see the hope in my aunt's smile that our service would be recommended to other friends.

  My uncle, on the other hand, was a different story. I felt more than saw his eyes on me throughout the meal.

  Our relationship has never been the best. We worked together, and that was that. My aunt never understood why we didn't get along that well, but then again she didn't know what had happened years ago that cemented the end of my relationship with my uncle.

  It was already after ten o'clock when guests started making their way home. First, those who lived further out followed by Joel's grandparents and great-grandmother.

  “Chico, Mariana it was so great to see you both. I definitely don’t see you often enough. Mariana, you must bring the girls over soon.”

  Chico gave me a pat on the back, “My sister is getting married in six months. Let’s talk about you catering for her. Your food is amazing. Give me a call when you can.”

  “Will do, I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  I said my goodbyes to Chico and Mariana and then noticed that Joel was hanging around possibly to say goodbye, so I went over.

  "Did you enjoy your dinner? Your family seemed happy to have you here with them". I said, hoping to come across friendly but professional.

  "I had a great time, thank you. It has been so long since I've seen my cousins and the stories were fantastic. It's weird to think of our parents as young people, though I wish your mom were here to tell us more stories." Joel was smiling, but his face went suddenly serious, his eyes focused on the opposite wall as though he was thinking hard about what to say next.

  I savored that moment, looking at the beautiful lines of his jaw and his short scruff until he spoke again.

  "David, I'm so sorry about your mom. I know now it must have been such a difficult time. My mom was so upset, I remember she fought tooth and nail to get time off work to come back to be with your mom. I asked her if I could come, but she wouldn't let me. I think she thought it would be too hard for me. I spent the summer with my grandmother in the Hamptons instead and got some precious time with her before her health deteriorated. I can't regret that you know?" he sighed, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you, I really am.”

  And without me asking, there it was, the olive branch, the explanation about what had happened and why Joel hadn’t come back to see me. Although it didn’t explain why he hadn’t been back since, I really appreciated his honesty.

  I put a hand on Joel's shoulder and said, "I understand. Look, to be truthful, at the time I was angry. I was losing my only parent, and we were as close as two people can be. At that age, I was all raging hormones and anger at the world for the unfairness of seeing my mom dying slowly and painfully. It's been such a long time, and I'm
done grieving. My mom will always be with me in everything I do. I have lots of people around that keep reminding me of how wonderful she was, and telling me things about her I didn't know. I'm ok now."

  I looked over at where my uncle was standing talking to the staff and looked briefly down considering my next words.

  "Joel, do you want to walk home with me? My uncle is closing up here as I do the early baking shift, so I'm off home." I said.

  "Sure, I'd love that" Joel didn’t smile, he beamed.

  “Great, I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Chapter Three

  Joel

  I stood on the pavement outside the café waiting for David to finish so we could walk home. Breathing in the crisp evening air, I couldn’t help but shiver a little. The contrast of the warm days and colder nights in Portugal at this time of year meant I was underdressed in just a shirt.

  Of course, seeing David threw me into such a spin I didn’t know whether I was coming or going. “God, I am such a loser,” I muttered to myself while shaking my head.

  Throwing myself at David the moment I saw him earlier was probably the most ridiculous thing I’d done in years. I couldn’t regret it though, even if David thought I was a little strange. In that split moment, I had just needed to hug my friend and show more than tell how much I missed him. Once that moment was over though, I realized I was pressing against a very much grown up, beautiful and muscly version of my former best friend.

  I’d felt an instant attraction to David, my body betraying me as it had never before, and all I could do was smile to avoid giving away how I was truly feeling. I couldn’t begin to work through all my emotions and let's face it, I wasn’t sure David was gay, not to mention I couldn’t even go there. First and foremost I could only hope we would be friends again.

  All evening my eyes kept finding their way towards David. I had to work very hard to look at other people too but damn, it was so hard. I almost wished I’d seen David before this evening to acclimatize myself to the presence of those dark brown eyes that looked so warm and sincere even if I could detect a little bit of sadness hidden beneath those long eyelashes.