Page 54 of For Butter or Worse
Nina:k, I’m coming over
Jasmine:Just added: make some?
Nina:Gimme 5
Jasmine was sitting in the wicker rocking chair on the front patio of her town house when Nina arrived. A yellow notepad and pen rested in her lap, and she slowly lowered her shades down the brim of her nose as Nina approached.
“Why did you tell my parents this was a good idea?” Jasmine asked.
“I don’t know.” Nina opened the patio gate, then closed it behind her. “They’re so encouraging. I fell under the spell of the Dori and Cory groupthink. And, honestly, it is an amazing opportunity.”
“It is,” Jasmine admitted. She rubbed her hands together and said, “But my parents paid for my private schooling, then cooking school and the rent on my first apartment while I found a job. Getting a spot at Lyon was the first thing I’d earned on my own. I just don’t want to constantly feel indebted to them. I know this will be good for my career, but I wanted to earn something like this for myself.”
Nina crossed her ankle over her opposite knee, then leaned forward. “Jas, you have earned this. Your parents wouldn’t give you an opportunity to cater for hundreds of their rich donors if they didn’t think you’d knock it out of the park. Yes, they’re your parents, but who cares? If my mom had had any connections that would’ve made my life easier, I would’ve taken them. Why are you fighting this?”
She was having a hard time following Jasmine’s hesitation. Fundamentally, she understood the importance of wanting to make your own way—Nina had done that her whole life. But Nina also would’ve taken any helping hands she’d been offered, if any had bothered to come.
“They keep trying to insert themselves into my life. And, like, I get it—I’m their only child. But I want to be able to figure my life out without them weighing in on every detail.” Jasmine rubbed her temples so hard her head started to sway from side to side.
“I’m sorry.” Nina sighed. “I realize I inserted myself, too, but then you got me back and volunteered me. So we’re in this together, I’m afraid.”
Nina sat down in the chair opposite Jasmine. The sky was a shade of gray that made it look like the world wanted to go back to bed. Her best friend lived in Frogtown, an area that had massive industrial buildings being converted into lofts. Jasmine’s town house was one of those lofts, and she even had a view of the LA River.
“Do you think I want to stand on a stage and hope someone bids for me like a prize heifer?” Nina leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees.
Jasmine shrugged. “I’d bid on you.”
“You’ll have to when no one else does.” Nina eyed her nails, swallowing down the very real fear that no one would bid on a cooking class with her. “So still not sure you wanna do it, huh?”
“I’m leaning toward no. Just because I can’t come up with any ideas of what to cook.” Jasmine slumped back into her chair.
Nina cocked her head to the side. She knew her best friend. And if she was trying to come up with ideas, then she was interested in the idea of cooking for the gala. She didn’t need Nina’s help or advice, but she could use a little backup.
“Come on.” Nina stood up, then held out her hand to Jasmine to help her up, too. “Let’s go cook.”
Jasmine reluctantly took Nina’s hand and stood up. They walked into the jewel-toned house, with walls painted a soft citrine and an emerald green couch in the middle of the open-concept living room. Plants dangled from the ceiling like stars, catching sun from the enormous windows that allowed natural light to seep in and across the two-story loft.
Nina followed Jasmine into the kitchen, pressing her palms into the island’s cool granite countertop.
“I know you,” Nina said. “You’ve been cooking. Testing things. You’ve probably got a fully stocked fridge. Want to show me what you’ve been working on?”
Jasmine crossed her arms. “Nothing has been good enough to show.”
“You say that any time you make something that is almost perfect,” Nina said. “So show me the not good.”
“Fine, but I told you so.” Jasmine opened her fridge and pulled out cauliflower, an onion, garlic, tomato paste, crushed tomatoes and molasses.
“Are plant people for or against eating the plants?” Nina asked.
“I sure hope they’re pro, because vegetarian is what’s calling to me.”
Nina watched Jasmine bread and bake the cauliflower, mash tomatoes in a pot with the garlic, spices and onion, then pan-fry a homemade tortilla. She piled the baked cauliflower onto the tortilla shell, then drizzled a healthy amount of the homemade salsa across the top.
She passed the plate to Nina and the aroma of the flavors mixing together reminded her of being outside in summer. She wanted to live on that plate. Nina picked up the taco and folded it, admiring the colors of the ingredients as they blended together like new paint on a fresh canvas. She smiled at the food. “Hello, gorgeous.”
Then she smelled the taco—spice and lime—before taking a bite. Not only was each part of the dish cooked perfectly, but it also practically melted in her mouth.
“It’s missing something,” Jasmine said.
