Page 55 of Cooking Up a Christmas Storm
‘Before? I think.’
Sticky toffee pudding involved a cake batter, enhanced and enriched with dates, but, before that, they started on the lasagne by browning their mince, and then building up the flavour base for their ragus.
‘Onions. Garlic. Seasoning.’ Bella beamed. ‘These three things are the beginning of so many wonderful things in the kitchen. Sometimes a carrot and a stick of celery. Sometimes peppers. Sometimes tomato. These are the basics. An onion is such a simple, cheap ingredient, but don’t let that trick you into thinking you don’t need to take care of it.’
As Pavel kept a hawklike eye on their slowly softening onion, Gemma crushed the garlic alongside him, and slid it into the pan.
‘How do we know when it’s done enough?’ she asked.
‘I have no idea.’
Bella leaned past him and peered into the pan. ‘You’re looking for a change of colour. Golden not blackened and a change of texture. You’ll feel the onions soften as well as you see it. Like I said, it needs a bit of care and attention.’
Pavel felt Gemma’s body tense alongside him as Bella moved away. ‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Seriously you were all happy a minute ago and now you’re all black cloudy.’
‘I’m not great with things that need care and attention.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true.’
She shook her head. ‘You’re very kind but you barely know me.’
A good ragu was, according to Bella, a long-term endeavour, so they layered up their lasagnes with her pre-made version, and their own béchamel sauce, before moving on to the sticky toffee pudding. Jodie had closed down the chat with her cooking partner before. Gemma would never have done that. Gemma was cool, relaxed, easy company. What would Gemma say?
‘So do you like sticky toffee pudding?’
Pavel laughed. ‘Who doesn’t like sticky toffee pudding?’
Fair point. ‘What’s your favourite dessert then?’
Now he sighed. ‘Actually I was thinking about that earlier. Makowiec.’
‘What?’
‘It’s Polish. Like a poppyseed cake. My granddad used to make it at Christmas and Easter.’
‘Wait!’ Jodie stopped him. ‘Can I film this for social media?’
Pavel shrugged.
‘You should let her. It’ll make you famous, lad,’ Old Man Strachan called across the kitchen.
‘Did you see his clip?’ Jodie asked.
Pavel nodded. ‘My mum showed me it. I didn’t even know she knew about Instagram.’
‘It went crazy on TikTok. Still is,’ Jodie added.
‘I’m not sure my mum’s ready for TikTok. Go on then. Turn me into a food influencer.’
Jodie watched Pavel through her phone. ‘So tell me about your favourite sweet?’
‘Well, it’s a cake really. Makowiec. Sort of a poppyseed roll that’s traditional in Poland. My granddad used to make it every Christmas and Easter and it always makes me think of him, and of where his family came from.’
She kept videoing just for a second at the end, focused in on Pavel’s face. Then she tapped to stop. The moment he was remembering felt private somehow. ‘Thanks. That’s great. I didn’t realise you were Polish.’ Jodie almost bit her own tongue off. Was that rude or just stupid? ‘I only meant, I mean I realised Pavel – it’s not a Scottish name, is it? Not that you can’t be Scottish and called Pavel. I just didn’t think about it. I mean, I’m sorry.’
