Inside the Helping Hands building, Piper pointed out lockers where they could stash their stuff. When Ms. Bancroft arrived, the girls were pulling on hairnets and washing their hands with strong-smelling soap.
“It’s nice of you to join us,” Piper’s mom said to Ms. Bancroft, holding out her hand. “I’m Renee—Piper’s mom.”
“I’m Amy,” Ms. Bancroft said. “I’ve been looking for a way to connect with the community since I moved to town this summer, so it’s wonderful of Piper to include me.”
While the two adults got acquainted, Piper led her friends on a tour of the small, crowded space. There were two business offices at the back of the building—“This is where the full-time staff works,” she explained—but most of the area was filled with industrial-sized refrigerators, giant ovens and stoves, and stainless steel counters for food prep.
“I started coming here with my parents when I was about Finley’s age,” Piper told the others. “When you’re little, you don’t get to use knives or be near the stoves. But they still let you help out by decorating food delivery bags or making cards for the people receiving meals.”
As soon as Ms. Bancroft joined them, Piper led them through the kitchen, pointing out dry goods, knives, and cutting boards. “One of the things I love about working at Helping Hands is that, as soon as you turn eight, you get to be involved in the actual cooking part of the job. They need all the help they can get to make as many meals as they do.” She noticed that Ms. Bancroft had an uneasy look on her face. “Don’t worry, Ms. B. There are easy jobs and less-easy jobs. Right after my eighth birthday, I learned a lot of cooking basics during my shifts here: chopping, sautéing, oven safety, food safety. It’s all important stuff to master when you want to be a good cook.”
“Welcome!” a voice boomed. The group spun around to see where the loud voice came from. A man the size of a small refrigerator—with tattooed arms, a shaved head, thick black eyebrows, and wearing an enormous flowered apron—filled the space behind them. “I see we have some newbies today, eh?” He held up one of his massive, pawlike hands and gave Piper a high five. Finley raced over to give the man a hug.
“Hi, Duck,” Piper said. “These are my friends from school, and this is our teacher-advisor, Ms. Bancroft. They’re here to help today. Guys, this is Duck. He’s the boss. Whatever he says goes. Trust me, you don’t want to get on his bad side.”
Ruby and Mariana exchanged nervous looks.
“She’s kidding, of course,” Duck said with a wide smile. “Anyone who knows me knows I’m a big softie, and I don’t really have a bad side. Anyone who knows Piper knows she’s the boss whenever she’s in the kitchen. Isn’t that right?”
Everyone laughed.
Duck folded his arms across his barrel chest. “In all seriousness, I’m always grateful to have help around here, so don’t worry about making mistakes while you’re learning the ropes. The most important things are being safe and having fun. A few shifts in this kitchen and you’ll be a cooking pro. Isn’t that right, Finley?” Finley wrapped her hands around Duck’s arm and started swinging from it as if he were a tree.
“Meow,” she said. Finley pushed her feet against Duck’s thigh and climbed, still holding on to his arm with both hands. Duck didn’t seem to notice that he had a six-year-old dangling off his body.
“Has Piper told you about our program?” Duck asked, gesturing to a wall filled with first names. “These are the names of some of the people we’re serving right now, as well as people we’ve served in the past,” he explained. “Our team of volunteers helps people with cancer, HIV, AIDS, ALS, and MS, as well as a few people recovering from major surgery. Our goal at Helping Hands is to assist people who can’t take care of themselves by providing them with delicious, nutritious meals. The last thing they should have to worry about is cooking.” Duck patted the wall of names and said, “This wall represents my family, our community. When you help out here, they become a part of your family, too.”
While Duck strolled around the kitchen, finishing the tour, he told the group a little more about why he had started Helping Hands. “This organization began in my home kitchen several years ago. I had two friends dealing with life-threatening illnesses at the same time, and I wanted to find some way to help. I started making them meals once a week. I quickly saw that something easy for me brought my friends a lot of joy and relief, so I began cooking them meals every other day. Soon, I expanded to serve a few more people, and things grew from there. We feed anywhere from fifty to sixty-five people a week, and we’re always looking for opportunities to expand our reach.”
“Do you have volunteers working here every day?” Zahra asked.
“That’s the goal,” Duck said. “The more help we get, the more people we can serve. I can’t cook enough food for everyone by myself, so we’ve built a solid group of volunteers. Some people come once a week, some only when they can squeeze it in—any time is better than no time at all.”
“How do you pay for all the food?” Mariana asked.
“Good question,” Duck replied. “We get donations from individuals, and we apply for grants. Whatever comes in as funding goes back out to the Helping Hands community in the way of nutritious, delicious meals.”
“What if someone has allergies?” Milla asked.
Duck nodded. “We talk about allergies, religious beliefs, and dietary needs and preferences with all our clients before their first delivery. I make sure everyone is getting the kind of food they like and can eat. People undergoing chemotherapy for cancer have different food needs from someone who’s having trouble with muscle control. We have to take a whole bunch of factors into consideration. It’s a bit of a juggling act to get everyone taken care of sometimes, but it keeps things interesting. Chefs like it when things are interesting, am I right, Piper?” He winked at her.
Piper gave him a thumbs-up. No one else had questions, so Duck talked them through the process for cooking and packaging the food. “Once you’ve cooked today’s main course—which is butternut squash, carrot, and lentil stew—it gets packed up and delivered to members of our Helping Hands family. Simple as that. It takes a village to make it all come together, but we get it done and make some lives a little easier.”
Every time Piper heard Duck talk through the Helping Hands mission statement, she got goose bumps. She loved cooking and experimenting in the kitchen for fun, but nothing compared to that feeling she got when they were cleaning up the kitchen at the end of a shift. She loved helping others. She was so happy she could share this experience with her fellow Daring Dreamers.
As soon as everyone was suited up with aprons, hairnets, and rubber gloves, Duck walked them through the day’s recipe. He explained things quickly, but Piper kept up with his rapid-fire instructions.
“Well, that’s that. I’ll leave you to get started, and I’ll check back to see how things are going in a bit,” Duck said with a wave. “Usually I stick around to oversee my volunteers, but I trust that Piper and Renee can answer any questions you might have. They’re some of the best, and I know you’re in good hands. Finley, I could use your help in the office making some birthday cards for a few of our folks.” And then they were gone.
“He left,” Ruby said, staring after Duck. “What are we supposed to do now?”
“Now we cook,” Piper said. She giggled when she saw how overwhelmed her friends looked. And Ms. B looked terrified as she rolled a giant butternut squash back and forth on the counter. “Trust me,” she added. “You’ll relax when you start working. It seems like a lot at first, but we just have to break it down into little steps and it will all work out.”
“But…,” Milla said, looking at the mounds of vegetables and lentils and cans of stock on the gleaming stainless steel counters. “He expects us to turn all this into stew?”
“That’s how you cook,” Piper said simply. “It’s kitchen science magic. We’ll st
art from the beginning, and you’ll see how simple it is.”
For the next hour, Piper and her mom showed the group how to chop vegetables, sauté onions, prepare lentils, and knead dough for the rustic French loaves they were making to accompany the soup.
Mariana’s tough swimmer’s muscles made her an expert dough kneader, so she took the lead on baking the bread. Zahra discovered she could dice onions like a pro, and they didn’t even make her cry! So Piper left both of her friends at their stations and told them to holler if they needed any help.
Meanwhile, Milla, Ruby, and Ms. Bancroft took on carrot-chopping duties. But none of them could get the hang of it. After fifteen minutes, the three of them had only managed to peel and chop four carrots (while Piper and her mom had peeled and cubed all the butternut squash). The carrot team was so busy laughing and teasing one another about their sad kitchen skills, Piper began to wonder if they were even trying. Frustrated and impatient, she suggested she take over.
“Fine by me,” Ruby said, shoving her peeler and cutting board toward Piper. She wiped her hands on her apron, plucked a ball of bread dough off Mariana’s workstation, and tossed it high into the air.
“But if you do it for us,” Milla pointed out, “we won’t learn or get better.”
Piper considered this and realized Milla was right. One of the reasons she had taken the group to Helping Hands was so they could practice their skills and learn. Much as she didn’t like getting help herself, she knew she had to figure out how to support them rather than just taking over. In both science and cooking, she knew, it was best to take things step by step. Patiently, Piper demonstrated curling the fingers and thumb of her non-knife hand into a claw grip (to protect her fingers and allow her to dice the carrots a little faster). Then she gave them a few tips that had made her feel more comfortable with a knife and hard veggies when she had first starting chopping. In no time, the carrot team had doubled their output. By then, Mariana had finished the bread and come over to help with the veggies.
Piper’s mom settled in at the stove, and soon the kitchen smelled amazing. Once all the veggies had been dumped into the stew and it was bubbling in a giant pot, Piper ladled out little samples for everyone to try. “You always have to try your food before serving it to others,” she told them.
“A little more salt?” Mariana asked, tilting her head to one side.
“Definitely,” Piper agreed, then sprinkled a bit into the pot.
“It’s really delicious,” Zahra said, her eyes wide. “And the colors blend together beautifully.”
“We made this,” Ruby said. “Ms. B, we made this!” She and Ms. Bancroft exchanged high fives.
Everyone pitched in to help with cleanup. They wiped down counters with sanitizer, swept the floors, and put all their waste in the designated bins. The kitchen was gleaming in no time.
By the time Duck and Finley returned, the three-hour shift was almost over and the group had fifty portions of stew packaged up and ready to go. The individual-sized bread loaves were cooling invitingly on one of the long counters.
Piper beamed at her friends. She waved her hands in front of the end result and said, “And that, my friends, is how it’s done. Kitchen science magic!”
Zahra
I’ve been thinking about this journal question a lot these past few days. Cinderella had to overcome many obstacles her life (not fitting with her family, the loss of her father, two bullying step sisters), but one of the things I most admire about her is that she always kept a positive attitude, even when the people closest to her treated her unkindly. She constantly tried to bring joy to others’ lives, despite the fact that her own life had its challenges. I’m sure she felt afraid many times, but she somehow kept a good outlook.
You’ve probably already noticed this, but there are only twelve girls at our elementary school who wear the hijab. I’m proud to be a Muslim, but there are times when people around town look at me a certain way when they see my headscarf. Most of the time, it’s not an unfriendly look (I can tell a lot of people are just curious). So I always respond with a smile, and people will often smile back. But sometimes, the way people stare or react to my hijab makes me feel uncomfortable. (Milla talked about feeling this way, too, because of her scar. I totally get it.)
Once, a car full of teenage boys stopped near our house. The boys rolled down their windows and shouted a lot of really rude words at my brother and me while we were playing outside. I felt very afraid. I try not to be afraid, but when stuff like that happens, it’s hard to shake off the fear. I wish I could help these boys understand that wearing my scarf is a way to honor my faith, and it’s an important part of who I am. No matter how people treat me, I try to respond with kindness, compassion, and understanding, because that’s also an important part of who I am.
Another thing I love about Cinderella is that she always went out of her way to be extra kind to animals and to help others (no matter how big, small, or important they were). I always try to act that way, too. Service and giving are both very important my family. (Did you know that one of the key pillars of the Islamic faith is charity?) I volunteer at my dad’s childcare center every Wednesday after school, as an act of service. And every year, my brother, parents, and I each choose a charity we are going to donate our money to. I save a portion of my allowance each week, and my parents match the amount I have saved up at the end of the year.
I loved volunteering at Helping Hands with Piper and the rest of the Daring Dreamers Club this week. It was fun to be a part of another family’s service traditions. Maybe I should take everyone to my dad’s childcare center sometime!
After their visit to Helping Hands, the Daring Dreamers made plans to meet at Piper’s house on Saturday to help her prepare for The Future of Food. Milla had gone home with Piper a few times after school to keep Piper company while she tested out some new recipes, but the other girls were eager to help her get ready for the competition, too. Throughout the week, the club had been brainstorming ideas for how they could help her practice before the show. And now it was finally time to put a few of those ideas into action!
When the doorbell rang on Saturday afternoon, Finley bounded to the front door on all fours and greeted Zahra with a loud “Meow!”
“Hello, Finley,” Zahra said, patting her on the head. “I brought you something.” Zahra held out a pair of fluffy pink-and-black-striped cat ears mounted on a plush headband.
Finley settled the ears on top of her head and pawed at Zahra’s leg. “Meow love them,” she said. “Thank you!” She purred as she climbed on all fours up the stairs to her bedroom. Finley had promised to stay out of the way while Piper and her friends were working in the kitchen. But Piper doubted she would keep her promise for long. Luckily, Finley had brought her class’s pet frog home to take care of over the weekend, so that would keep her occupied for a while. And Piper had bribed her sister to stay out of their way by making animal-shaped fruit jellies with her that morning. (It had been fun using pectin to play around with shapes and texture!) But even with a belly full of lime-flavored jellies, Piper knew Finley would sneak down to be a part of the kitchen action eventually. Her sister didn’t like missing out on any kind of fun.
“Did you make those ears?” Piper asked. Zahra nodded; she loved sewing and making things. “That was super nice of you. But you know Fin’s probably going to pick a new animal she wants to be next week.”
Zahra laughed. “That’s okay. I’ll give her fresh ears when her cat phase is over. I make stuff like this for the dress-up bin at my dad’s childcare center all the time.”
“Your dad works in a childcare center?” Piper asked. “Like, a day care?”
“Yeah,” Zahra said. “He owns it. He’s also the childcare center’s lead preschool teacher. He loves working with kids.”
“Seriously? I had no idea,” Piper said.
“How would you? It never came up,�
� Zahra said, shrugging.
The next few minutes were a whirlwind of activity as all the other girls showed up. As soon as everyone had arrived, Piper led her friends to the kitchen.
“See what you think of this,” she said, pushing a plate of dried fruit across the counter to her friends. “My mom borrowed a food dehydrator from one of her coworkers so I could practice using it before the show,” she explained. “There are always tons of weird gadgets and tools on set that contestants are supposed to use, so I want to be sure I’m familiar with as many of them as possible before filming day!”
Ruby popped a wrinkled mango slice into her mouth. “Yummy.” She grabbed a slice of strawberry, then another and another.
Milla plucked a light-as-air piece of banana off the plate and nibbled on one corner. “Whoa, this banana is crispy. That’s kind of weird. You don’t expect a banana to crunch.”
“Try this next,” Piper instructed, shaking something brown and crumbly out of a bowl and into Mariana’s palm.
“What is it?” Mari asked, scrunching her nose. “No offense, but it looks like rotten meat.”
“Just try it,” Piper said with a laugh. “Then guess.”
Mariana took a small taste and her eyes went wide. “It tastes like ice cream. But it’s not wet—or cold.”
“Ding ding ding!” Piper cried out. “It is ice cream. Well, sort of. I’ve been trying to figure out how to freeze-dry different things. You know, like astronaut food? The consistency is all wrong since I don’t have an actual freeze dryer. But I’ve been experimenting with some other ways of getting the moisture out of food, and I’m finally coming close.”
Daring Dreamers Club #2 Page 3