Page 14 of Cakes for the Grump
Though the meal is typical, with my dried out and burning hands, it takes longer to complete. At least there is no mental taxation with his menu.
It’s not even a cake day.
Not that baking properly fills the hole that cooking does for me. The first is precise, and in most cases, you have one shot to get a cake baked right before Maillard reactions take over, and levelers step in, and the fire in the oven cinches it all together where adjusting fingers can’t reach.
If baking is science backed by art, cooking is art backed by science. The sheer room for changes you can make in a cooking recipe is so vast that it feels endless. Substitute one thing for another for another for another for another for another—and you still have a meal.
I glance at the potatoes boiling in a pot, the apple I’ve cut into slices, the carton of almond milk not put away—and let out a great big sigh. The kettle agrees that growth here is futile, letting out its own shrill whine.
Making myself a cup of tea, I sit on a chair in the breakfast nook, an extension of the kitchen area, which allows me to stay within the bounds of my workplace. Looking down at my phone, I see that my best friends Noor and Kiren have messaged in our group thread.
KIREN
Where have you been? I tried calling you yesterday.
My hands are still red from last night.
Can’t answer that one.
Noor follows up a saucy set of emojis. Open eyes, eggplant, peach, question mark.
That’s right. I promised to take Barcelona men by storm the last time we chatted. I start typing, erase it, type again, and erase that—before ending up on:
ME
Trying to set up a date tonight!
(With more chemical cleaner; a prospect that really raises the heartbeat and bottoms out the stomach.)
The next few minutes pass with a lot of teasing, love and an overwhelming wall of excitement that my friends feel on behalf of me. If I could only be paid in their support, I’d walk among riches forever. Part of me is really not sure why I’m not telling my best friends my real circumstances since we typically share everything with each other, but I only know I’m not ready to have them call asking for more information, and for me to see their looks of horror. That would make it all seem more…hopeless and worse to stomach.
They would, of course, offer money, but I know I can’t take help when it comes to my dad’s rehab program. No matter how much progress he is making, he’s never gone long without relapsing. The idea of wasting my friends’ money on what is not a change to better health, but a detour back onto the loop of a vicious cycle would be too much. It’s one thing to harden yourself to future disappointment, but another to expose those negativities to the people you care about if you can prevent it, which I can for now.
All I have to do is wake up, meal prep, sometimes bake, then go home to shield my wonderful neighbors from Janice by suffering through some chores.
It’s nottoobad.
I drink chamomile, dreaming of unusual ways to transform simple ingredients. Black garlic in particular intrigues me, but with no kitchen or time to call my own, it can only stay that way.
A thought exercise.
Two mundanebut difficult weeks pass, and I don’t have any contact with Luke except for interspersed minimally worded cake demands. Work is work and I don’t expect anything to change…
And then it does. Starting with a message from Kiren.
KIREN
I know you are busy these days, but I’ve just come across something that screams it’s for you, Rita!
She sends me an online brochure. The front page is an illustration of a box, its brownness a contrasting foundation for the bursting arrays of bright vegetables, rich red meats, and sublime herbs drawn inside. There is a chef’s hat, white and bilious, perched on the corner with a grand happy face drawn over it. In bold, fanciful script is a headline centered at the top:
Championing Unimaginable MealKits has officially started!
I go to the next page and read.
This Eurasia search is a competition that celebrates meal kit subscriptions and how they have boomed in popularity with more people wanting easy, healthy, tasty, and pre-portioned ingredients delivered right to their doorsteps, ready to be cooked.
Hosted and judged by India’s leading meal kit provider MealKit Masala, we are scouring Europe and Asia for any level of cooks ready to showcase their beloved signature dishes, which they believe should be turned into meal kits.
