The Secret Ingredient

by Laura Schaefer

  “How was the market, sweetness?” She peered at my bag approvingly.

  “Perfect,” I said. “Genna found us almost right away. She helped me pick out ingredients for our next scone.”

  “Mmm, what do we have here?” Louisa took a sip of her herbal brew as I unpacked my bag. She handed me a cup as well and I took a small sip. It was pretty warm outside, so I fetched a glass of ice and turned my portion into iced tea.

  “I’m not sure if we can put both cheese and strawberries in the same recipe, but I thought it might be interesting to try,” I explained.

  “Sounds divine,” she agreed.

  “I got the basil and chives for a second scone recipe.” I put everything into the small refrigerator. The teashop was command central for our scone contest preparations. Both Louisa and I were convinced that all of the well-wishes of our customers would infuse our recipe with extra yumminess. “I saw Zach downtown too.”

  “How is our very favorite pest?” Louisa asked.

  “Fine,” I said, blushing a little thinking back to the “trainer bra” incident. There was no way I was mentioning that to Louisa. “He said that the matcha arrived. I thought I could help you put it away.”

  “I did order quite a lot this time. People really seem to have taken a liking to it. Let’s put some out for display and tuck the rest away in the cooler,” she suggested.

  “Sure thing.” I went to the storage room to find the shipment and carefully placed some of the rich green powder in an airtight tin. If people wanted to take a look or have a sniff before ordering, they could. Matcha is powdered green tea from Japan. It has a strong flavor, and it’s very nutritious. Having one cup of it is like having almost ten cups of regular green tea, since you’re actually drinking the tea leaf itself instead of just an infusion. Some people find it a little bitter, but I add a pinch of sweetener to mine and it’s just right.

  After I finished putting the shipment away, I went around to all of the occupied tables to see if anyone needed new hot water for their tea. I found the Kopinskis out on the patio, with their faces to the sun and their pot of Earl Grey. They wore matching outfits as usual: his-and-hers nylon resort wear in blue.

  “Isn’t this weather wonderful?” I asked. I cleared a plate and smiled at the couple, two of our best regular customers.

  “I can’t get enough of it,” Mrs. K. agreed. “I’m storing up vitamin D for winter.”

  “Gah! Don’t even mention winter,” Mr. Kopinski admonished his wife. “As far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t exist.” He grinned at both of us. “And how are you, Annie?”

  “I’m great. My best friend Genna is back in town and I just went to the farmer’s market.” Sure, the heat and humidity were making my hair frizz and my forehead shiny, but even that couldn’t bug me on such a gorgeous day. I knew my aura was sparkling.

  “Ooh, what did you buy this time?” Mrs. Kopinski asked. “Something for your scones?” She knew all about the contest.

  “I did. I’m going to bake now, in fact. You should stay put for a sample.”

  “We wouldn’t dream of leaving,” Mr. K. said. “Say, is there a newspaper lying around?”

  “Yep!” I grabbed the Wisconsin State Journal and the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel for them from our rack and brought the stack to their table.

  “Thank you.” The couple expertly split up the paper according to the sections each one wanted to read. Mr. K. took the Travel and Opinion pages; Mrs. K. took Business and Local. I smiled and went back inside the shop. I noticed two customers I’d never seen before sitting by the window at one of our larger tables.

  “Hi, I’m Annie. Can I get you fresh water or anything else?” I asked.

  “Hello, Annie. Some water would be great,” the young man said. His hair was twisted up into short dreadlocks, and he wore small wire-rim glasses. “I’m Oliver, and this is my wife, Theresa. We just moved to the neighborhood.”

  “Your shop is so nice,” Theresa said. She had very long hair and a kind smile. I grinned as we shook hands.

  “Thank you! My grandmother has run it for a long time. We just had our thirtieth-anniversary party two months ago,” I explained as I refilled their pot. “Where are you from?”

  “Atlanta. We moved because Oliver got a new job. I was worried we wouldn’t be able to find good tea here, but I see now there won’t be any trouble,” Theresa said, satisfied. I noticed they were drinking our best jasmine oolong.

  “If you have any special variety in mind that you don’t see on our shelves, just let myself or Louisa know. We’re always happy to order whatever our neighbors like.”

  “Thank you,” Oliver said. “I’m sure we’ll be back.”

  “Wonderful! Nice to meet you both,” I added.

  Even though I knew that the Leaf was out of the woods now that our rent was lower, I still made an extra effort with each and every customer. I wanted them to be so pleased with their tea, food, and service that they couldn’t help but tell their friends about us. I knew Louisa did the same thing. But the exciting thing was I could tell she was more willing to try new things now, like take a risk on a tea we hadn’t sold before. The whole place felt fresher.

  Since all the customers were taken care of, I pulled a large earthenware bowl out from behind the counter—it was handmade pottery, a gift from one of the Leaf’s old customers—and began thinking about the scones I wanted to bake. I began with a simple base of flour, baking powder, pinch of salt, butter, buttermilk, and egg. Louisa had shown me the week before how to mix the dry ingredients together first, then to add the wet ones. Next, I carefully worked the dough together. Thank goodness I did it right this time. I wasn’t exactly a natural when it came to scones, and I had ruined a batch last week by adding the milk too soon. Scones are harder to make than cookies. But more fun to eat!

  “Very nice,” Louisa said, peering over my shoulder. “What sort of specialness will you add to this one, dearheart?”

  “Do you think the strawberries will work with the goat cheese?” I was still learning a lot about what flavors went together. Since the contest was for young bakers, it was up to me to come up with the recipe, but Louisa chimed in with advice when I wanted her to.

  “Hmm. I love chevre,” she said. Louisa used the French word for goat cheese, which I couldn’t even say. “But it’s such a soft variety that I’m worried it might melt during baking. Why don’t we grate some Parmesan instead for the dough and save the goat cheese for spreading on our biscuits?”

  “Good idea,” I said. I added the berries to the dough and found a wedge of Parmesan in the fridge. After grating a little under a cup, I added that, too. Finally, I added “the secret ingredient” to the recipe. Louisa winked as she watched me do it. Then I formed the dough into a round and used my mini scone cutter to make little shapes. I placed them on a greased baking sheet and brushed the top of each one with milk. Each time I tried a new recipe, I only did one pan in case they didn’t turn out. These looked promising, though. I placed them in the oven at 400 degrees. Within ten minutes the shop was filled with the delicious smell of melty Parmesan goodness.

  “Annie, this contest is great for business,” Louisa whispered conspiratorially. “Look!”

  I looked around the shop as one after another, every customer’s head popped up. It was almost as if you could see the waft of scone aroma float under their noses and lift up their chins. I giggled. After five more minutes I pulled the creations out of our oven to cool and announced that everyone would get one to try—on the house. People actually applauded!

  “I can’t wait to try them, dearest,” Louisa said.

  “Me either!”

  As the scones cooled, I wandered back to the office and booted up Louisa’s ancient desktop computer. We only had a dial-up connection at the Steeping Leaf, but I wanted to do a quick blog entry about my recipe. I wish I’d thought of doing a website for the shop earlier, in fact. It was good business for the Leaf. After the customers had a chance to try them,
I’d go back and add their impressions and suggestions.

  When I was able to finally bring up the blog page, I looked with satisfaction at the two recipes I’d already posted: one for maple nut scones and the chocolate chip scone one I had posted that morning. I already had seven followers. I eagerly checked for new comments.

  Miss Cuppycake: These chocolate chip scones look so good I could eat four and ask for more. Your glaze recipe for maple nut scones sounds heavenly! Nice job.

  July 25 9:55 a.m.

  Everyone was very complimentary. I scrolled down, smiling.

  ElizaJ3000: Maple nut scones are my favorite kind of scone. I wish I lived in Madison so I could come to the Leaf and try yours.☺

  July 25 10:57 a.m.

  Aw, sweet!

  My heart stopped when I read the latest comment.

  SweetCakes: These are very UNORIGINAL. You don’t have a prayer in September, Steeping Leaf!!

  July 25 11:02 a.m.

  What? Who on earth was SweetCakes? And why did she have it out for me?

  Chocolate Chip Scones

  Now, for all our junior Teashop Girls club members at home, remember to ask your parents before you start the recipe below, or any others. Scones and other teashop treats aren’t super easy to make, and you might need a grown-up’s help or supervision. Have fun! <3 Annie

  Ingredients

  2/3 cup sugar

  2 cups flour

  1 tablespoon baking powder 1 cup mini dark chocolate chips

  1/4 teaspoon salt

  3 tablespoons cold butter

  1 egg

  1/2 cup buttermilk

  1/2 tablespoon vanilla

  1/2 teaspoon secret ingredient

  1/4 cup whole milk

  Preheat your oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. Mix sugar, flour, baking powder, mini dark chocolate chips, and salt. Cut in cold butter. In a separate bowl whisk the egg, vanilla, and the buttermilk. Slowly add the wet mix to the dry mix and stir to combine until even. Add the secret ingredient. Knead the dough together a few times until the dough is one solid ball. Roll out the dough into a circle, about an inch thick or less. Use cookie cutter to cut out small circles. Place scone circles on a greased cookie tray. Brush with milk. Bake for 15 to 17 minutes until golden brown. Makes 12 scones. Serve warm!

  July 25 8:03 a.m.

  Chapter Three

  Tea was such a comfort.

  —EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY

  Louisa could tell something was wrong the moment she looked at my face. I came back out of the office before I’d even posted my third recipe. The scones were almost ready to taste, and she was using a small spatula to place them on a tiered plate to hand out around the shop. There was a small digital camera at her side. We took pictures of all of our efforts. Even if they didn’t end up tasting good, they sure looked great!

  “Annie, love, what’s the matter?”

  “Nothing really,” I said, and tried to smile again. “It’s just that someone left a kind of rude comment on our blog. I’m sure they didn’t mean anything by it,” I added quickly. I picked up the camera and took a photo of the little scones on their pretty tiers.

  “I don’t understand the Internet,” Louisa said. “It seems like people can say whatever they want on there and no one shames them for forgetting their manners.”

  “You’ve got that right,” I said. “It’s okay. Let’s try these!” Ever since the contest had kicked off a few days ago, I’d been obsessively checking the leader board to see who had the most blog followers. The rule was that every entrant had to start a brand-new food blog; you couldn’t enter if you already ran a popular one. But I wondered what tricks some of the others were using, because the Steeping Leaf was in dismal thirty-second place, with just a handful of followers. The kids at the top already had a few hundred! They were probably high school students with about a million Facebook friends. If only my mom wasn’t so strict about how much time I spent on the computer. Sigh. The people I had to beat in order to get to London probably already had smart cell phones and I didn’t even have a dumb one.

  I placed one of my mini scones on a napkin, pulled it apart a little, and blew on it. The Parmesan had melted into the nooks and crannies of the creamy dough. The bright red strawberries made them look very festive. I took a bite.

  “Oh, yum,” I said. Louisa took a bite as well.

  “Delicious, Annie!” Louisa carefully set one of them aside. I bet it was for Mr. Arun. They were still having, as she called it, a dalliance. My former principal had come into the Leaf exactly once since summer started. But my barista cheer couldn’t hide how awkward I felt with him there being lovey-dovey with my grandmother. Fortunately for me, after that they conducted their rendezvous in other locales. “Do you think this is the one?”

  “It’s good, but I don’t know if it’s the one. Let’s see what the customers think.” I handed out each scone to the eager Steeping Leaf crowd. Many of them had already heard about my contest.

  I gave the Kopinskis two scones on the patio and another one to two ladies who were walking by but stopped in their tracks when they saw me handing out samples.

  “It’s for a baking contest I entered,” I said a bit shyly. “If you like it, please follow me on SteepingLeafScone. com so I can be a finalist.”

  “Thanks! We will,” they said, tasting my latest scone.

  “Mmm. That was great,” said one wearing a big sun hat.

  I smiled and turned to go back inside, but then the sun-hatted lady asked, “What was that address again?” Both of the women had their phones out.

  “SteepingLeafScone.com.” I grinned. Two more followers! Just like that.

  “Annie, this might be your best one yet,” Mr. Kopinski said. He patted his belly happily. “I hope you and your grandmother add it to the permanent menu.” Mrs. K. nodded in agreement and neatly wiped her mouth with a napkin.

  “It goes so well with the Earl Grey,” she said.

  “Wow, I never thought about that, but maybe we will. Thanks!” It seemed the scone was a hit.

  Next, I took two samples over to Oliver and Theresa.

  “I love how the saltiness of the Parmesan mixed with the sweetness of the berries,” Theresa said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. “It reminds me of something my mother used to make when I was little. Nice work!”

  “Thanks!” After everyone was finished, I returned to the office to do my post. Even though I tried not to think about the mean commenter, I couldn’t help but congratulate myself on the latest scone’s originality. I had never before seen this particular type of scone anywhere.

  Take that, SweetCakes!

  The whole point of the blogs was to collaborate and get ideas from other bakers, not zing them. I reread my post three times, hesitating to hit the “Publish Post” button. I felt a bit jittery, wondering if anyone would comment on my new scone. Finally, I did it. I let out a breath and refreshed the page a few times after the post was up, hoping for an instant comment. None appeared, of course, so I turned off the computer and went back out into the shop.

  I placed the two remaining scones in a little box for Zoe and Genna. Zo would be in any minute for hers, and Genna and I planned to spend the next day together, so I’d give it to her in the morning. Since Genna had missed my birthday, she was treating me to my first-ever pedicure at the Samadhi Spa. My mom said yes when I asked her, which was a minor miracle. She, of course, went off about how she had never had a professional pedicure, so I made a mental note to tell Dad he should get her a gift certificate for her birthday.

  It would just be me and Gen. I was really looking forward to it. It would give me a chance to hear more about mysterious theater camp and the amazing James.

  I cleaned up the Leaf’s cooking area and washed the bowl and baking sheet. The afternoon tea hour was coming to an end and the shop quieted down. The sun was still high and people wanted to sit in their air-conditioning, which we did not have in the shop. I was thinking about heading home to read some
cookbooks or a novel in front of a fan, when I heard the chimes on the door sound their distinctive trill. Zoe popped in just then with a plate.

  “I made a quiche!” she announced.

  Louisa laughed. “The Teashop Girls certainly do like turning on the oven during the hottest days of the year.”

  “Ooh, let’s see,” I said. “What’s in it?”

  “The vegetables are all organic and from my plot in the community garden, and I used fresh eggs from free-range chickens. Best of all…,” she said, unwrapping the foil, “it’s still warm.”

  “It looks lovely, dear,” Louisa said as she admired Zoe’s quiche.

  Free-range chickens are chickens that never live in cages, Zoe had explained to me earlier in the summer. They get to run around a coop outside. It was really important to Zo to get eggs from this kind of farm, now that she’d learned more about it from her fellow community gardeners. I could see the quiche had bright red tomatoes and green flecks of herbs. Zoe had been volunteering her time at the garden near our neighborhood. She’d been learning lots of interesting things about organic food. We’d always adored coming to the weekly farmer’s market on the capitol square, but now Zo had given me a new reason to love it even more. She said food grown nearby is good for the environment. And often tastier, since it can be harvested at the peak of ripeness.

  “Yum. Let me grab some forks,” Louisa said as we tucked in.

  “I’ve been eating all day long!” I exclaimed. “It’s really terrific, Zoe. I didn’t know you were such a good cook.”

  “It was actually mostly my stepdad. I just got all the veggies. Aren’t the tomatoes great?”

  They were. Zoe’s quiche was full of those cute small bright red ones. I think they’re called grape tomatoes. They kind of exploded when you bit into them. Zoe said they had just ripened.

  “They are incredible, dear,” Louisa said. “Do you have any left over? Annie might want them for a future scone.”