Page 37 of Cooking Up a Christmas Storm
‘You what?’
‘Can I film you? Just your arms? I mean… I don’t…’
Pavel paused his whisking to stare at her for a second. ‘So you really do have a thing about forearms?’
He had definitely heard that then. ‘It’s to put online.’ That sounded worse. ‘Instagram. I’m going to film the stages of the recipe and make a reel.’
Pavel was biting back a smile. ‘Whatever you say.’
She recorded fifteen seconds of whisking, and put her phone down. ‘See. It’s for the ’gram. It’s work.’
Pavel didn’t reply.
‘It’s not for…’ There were no possible other uses for a video of Pavel’s forearms that didn’t make her embarrassment much, much worse.
‘How are you getting on?’ Bella asked. Never had an interruption been so welcome.
‘Fine,’ Jodie answered quickly. ‘We’re fine.’
‘She’s been filming me,’ Pavel added, his face entirely straight. ‘She wouldn’t tell me why.’
‘It’s for Insta…’
Finally he broke into a grin.
‘You know what it’s for!’
‘I know you’re probably not a meringue porn weirdo? Yeah.’
Eventually Pavel’s clearly superior upper-body workout routine got their egg whites to the much-lauded ‘stiff peak’ stage and Jodie was able to tip spoons of caster sugar in, one at a time, phone carefully angled over the bowl with her free hand, while Pavel continued to mix.
Bella explained that, as they were pushing the limits time-wise, they were going to make small individual-portion meringues today, but that the recipe would work as well to make a big showstopping pavlova. They spooned their mixture into the neat circles Bella had marked up on greaseproof paper in advance.
‘Low heat for a long time is key for meringues,’ Bella told them. ‘Don’t be tempted to whack the heat up and cook them quicker. Low and slow, and then time to cool. That’s why we’re getting these in first and then we’ll let them cool until right at the very end of the session. The good news is that in real life you can make these days before. They’ll keep for a couple of weeks in a sealed tub.’
They moved on to slicing potatoes for twice-cooked chips.
‘I thought three-times cooked was all the rage?’ Middle-aged Strachan asked. ‘All that Heston Bloomin’ Thing business.’
Bella laughed. ‘You don’t want me getting all cheffy at you though, do you? This is proper home cooking. And parboiling and then frying is more than enough.’
Jodie made her excuses and left Pavel chopping away, and approached the Strachans’ bench. ‘Is it OK if I take some pictures of you? For our social media?’
Old Man Strachan grinned at her. ‘For your OnlyFans is it, pet? Like Pav’s big arms.’
So everyone had heard that? Brilliant.
His son and grandson almost dropped their paring knives. ‘How do you know about OnlyFans, Granddad?’ His face paled. ‘Actually don’t answer that.’
‘I keep up to date. Hugh was talking about it in the shop. His nephew’s lass works in forestry.’
The group were silent for a second, waiting to see how this story was going to work out.
‘Has fellers paying through the nose for videos of her taking her wellies off at the end of the day. They like it if she describes how things smell.’
Youngest Strachan recovered first. ‘OK. So Granddad does know what OnlyFans is.’
‘One chap offered her a diamond bracelet if she’d send him her dirty socks.’
