Chapter Nine
Three days after the pub quiz incident and Ethan still cringed every time he thought about it. Of all people to catch him in a weak moment and make him confess to homesickness and missing his grandmother. But she’d promised it would go no further and for some reason, Ethan believed her. Bethany Lee may be competitive as hell, but she still had basic decency and would consider her word her bond. He would bet that she’d be insulted at the idea of anyone thinking she was capable of violating someone’s trust.
Still. Did it have to be her?
He sighed. What’s done is done and there was nothing he could do about it now. The only recourse he could see was to give her a wide berth and make sure to avoid her as much as possible.
Unfortunately, Dr. Lee did not receive that memo because thirty seconds later, she grabbed his arm and dragged him into the nearest on-call room.
Practically pushing him into the room, she closed the door behind them with a decisive thud.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
She gave a furtive look around, then dumped the huge tote bag she was holding in her other arm on the desk.
“Saving you from the vultures.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Tupperware containers began appearing on the desk and the smells were beginning to make him salivate.
“I have my mother’s famous dumplings and homemade fried rice with sausage. Personally, I like it plain with just scallion, eggs, and salt and pepper but Ma was feeling fancy. Careful with the sauce container—don’t want it to spill. Wait where is the…I knew I had it here. I’m going to be so pissed if I left it at home.” With an irritated mutter, Bethany began digging into the bottomless tote bag, which was beginning to resemble Mary Poppins’ bag.
“Here it is! I knew I had it!” With a triumphant smile, Bethany found the last container.
“Shu mai and tem pu rah?” His eyes lit up.
“Of course. My father’s cousin has a stall at the MiaoKou Night Market in Keelung and this is all he sells, so every time we visit, we bring a bunch back, throw it in the freezer chest and ration them out until the next trip back.” Bethany frowned. “Now that I think about it, I don’t know if Uncle Wen Long was actually Ba’s cousin. Could be one of those family friends who get treated as a cousin sort of deal.”
Ethan found he had to sit down and process both the gesture and barrage of words. He looked at the table laden with food and all he could say was “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you do this?” At the look on her face he was quick to add, “I’m grateful—please don’t get me wrong. Just wondering why.”
“Can’t I just do something nice for the hell of it?” Bethany demanded, hands on hips.
“Given our history and what I’ve heard of your reputation, no,” he replied dryly.
Bethany rolled her eyes and plopped down next to him. “The idea came to me after our talk at pub quiz night,” she explained.
He winced a bit. Now he was an object of pity.
As if reading her thoughts, Bethany gave his arm a little whack. “Nothing like that. I’m not feeling sorry for you. This is purely self-serving on my part, I assure you.”
Oh, he couldn’t wait to hear this.
“To my mind, Doctors Without Mercy’s latest win has an asterisk beside it because we only won due to you feeling homesick and thus not at your best. If not for that, Cardio Gods would have won. Consider this my part to help you deal with the homesickness so you can be in top form, so when Doctors Without Mercy beats you next month, it counts.”
“This is about your competitive streak?” he asked dubiously.
“What else could it be?” she scoffed.
Ethan had a feeling that if he thanked her or remarked on the sweetness of the gesture Bethany would snarl back. Best to let it stand. Besides, the smells were making him hungry.
“Care to join me?” he offered. It was the least he could do.
“The polite thing would be to say no, but to hell with it.” She grabbed another pair of chopsticks as well as the dipping sauces for the shu mai and tem pu rah.
For the next few minutes, the two ate in companionable silence. Ethan had to remind himself to remember his manners, otherwise he’d be shoveling the food into his mouth like a glutton. The familiar tastes took him right back to his grandmother’s kitchen, and all his favorite food stalls and small eateries in Taipei. This was amazing.
Bethany dunked a dumpling in the soy sauce garlic, sesame oil and chili oil sauce and popped it into her mouth.
“Well?” she asked, eager for a verdict.
“It’s good, really good,” he admitted.
She frowned. “I sense a but.”
He shrugged. “It’s not quite the way my grandmother makes it.” Truth was truth, after all.
“Obviously it’s better.” At his hesitation, Bethany threw down her napkin with an indignant huff. “I can’t believe it. I go out of my way to do something nice, and you insult my mother’s cooking.”
“I am not. It’s a really good dumpling. I grew up with my grandmother’s and as far as I’m concerned, no one else’s can compare. I can’t help being biased.”
“I suppose not,” she conceded with a sigh. Then she lit up. “Obviously there’s only one way to settle this. We need a dumpling cook-off.”
“What?” Was she serious?
“No, this is a fantastic idea,” she said, getting more and more into the idea. “You make a batch of your grandmother’s dumplings and dipping sauce and I make mine. We’ll get a third party to taste and judge. This way we’ll know whose dumplings actually reign supreme. Mine obviously.”
“You must be kidding.”
“Afraid your grandmother’s dumplings can’t cut it?” She tossed down the challenge like a gauntlet he couldn’t help but pick up.
Now that she’d impugned his amah’s cooking, he had no choice but to respond. “You’re on.”
“Perfect. Next Saturday, four p.m. my place. We each have ninety minutes to make a dozen dumplings.”
“I’ll be there,” he assured her.
“Good. Prepared to get your ass kicked because you’re sooo going down.” Her watch beeped and she gave a slight curse. “My time’s up. Gotta head back to the ER. Enjoy the food.”
“Thank you,” he called out as the door slammed shut behind her.
As he shoveled in the rest of the most excellent fried rice, a thought occurred to him.
How the hell was he going to learn how to make his grandmother’s dumplings by next Saturday? One way or another he’d have to learn and figure it out because there was no way he was going to go down with a fight and let Bethany win by default.
Bring on the dumpling cook-off.
*
Saturday.
D-Day.
Dumpling Day.
Bethany meticulously set out the cutting board, cleaver, mixing bowl, wooden spoon, and all her mise en place. She felt super fancy throwing out a term like that, but it was from all those Food Network programs she watched during med school. Whoops, she almost forgot to get the wrappers out of the fridge to come to room temp.
Ethan was due any minute and she’d generously set aside some counter and work space for him too. Part of her still wasn’t best pleased that she’d given him her address but there was no choice and besides it was fine. Equal trade for him being vulnerable in front of her and all that. Plus, he’d also sent her a sizeable Starbucks gift card as a thank-you for the home-cooked food, so perhaps this made them even again.
Her phone lit up with a series of text messages.
Jeffrey:What’s this I hear about you and a new boyfriend?
Cecily:Yeah. I looked him up on the hospital website. He’s cute. But I have to say I’m disappointed we had to hear about it from a third party.
Damn it. She should have known her mother would have spread the word immediately.
Bethany:What the hell? I don’t have a boyfriend.
Jeffrey:That’s not what Ma says. You asked her to make a ton of food for your new boyfriend Ethan.
Bethany:He’s just a co-worker.
Cecily:Bullshit.
Jeffrey:+1
Cecily:When do we get to meet him?
Bethany:When hell freezes over.
Jeffrey:So rude.
Cecily:You have to promise to bring him out to California for a visit. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise if everyone else but us gets to meet him.
Jeffrey:And so I can size the guy up.
Bethany:You two are ridiculous.
Cecily:I resent that.
Thank heavens, the doorbell rang.
Bethany:Gotta go. Someone’s at the door.
Jeffrey:I bet I know who it is.
Cecily:And you say you don’t have a boyfriend.
Bethany:You two are the worst. Seriously.
Cecily:You love us.
Bethany:I’m having second thoughts.
Jeffrey:Fine we can talk later.
Thankful that was over, Bethany went to the door to let Ethan in. If she had to take a moment to marvel at how well the polo shirt he wore showed off his physique, that was no one’s business but hers. Besides, it was a natural biological thing, hardwired in the DNA to notice if someone was attractive—it wasn’t her fault. And just because he was physically nice to look at didn’t mean she still didn’t think he was annoying as hell, and a dumpling opponent to be squashed like a bug.
Even if he was carrying loaded bags of groceries that were showing off impressive arms.
“You ready to lose?” she asked cheekily as he walked in and took off his shoes. She made a move to help him with the groceries but was rudely rebuffed.
God save her from men with an overdeveloped sense of chivalry who couldn’t even ask for help when they needed it.
Ethan threw her a look. “You talk a big game, but I have every confidence in my grandmother’s recipe. The results will speak for themselves.”
Bethany couldn’t resist getting on her tiptoes to get a sneak peek of what he’d brought, but Ethan immediately shifted his groceries out of view.
“No cheating,” he chided.
“Fine be that way, Mr. Stick-in-the-Mud. Kitchen’s this way,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. “You get the left side of the counter; I get the right.”
“Well, I already know I’m winning,” he commented as he set his bag down.
She really was going to enjoy taking him down a peg. He was so damn cocky. “Oh really?”
“You’re using store-bought wrappers.”
Bethany skidded to a halt. “You have got to be kidding me. You’re making your own dough?”
“Of course,” he said loftily, looking down his nose at her. “If you’re going to do something, you should do it right.”
Screw that. Without a second thought, Bethany threw the store-bought wrappers back in the fridge and got out a bag of King Arthur’s flour from the back of the pantry that hopefully hadn’t expired.
“Do you even know how to make dumpling dough?” Ethan asked, his tone slightly amused.
“I’ll figure it out,” she muttered as she quickly googled recipes on her phone. There was nothing more she liked than a challenge, Bethany reminded herself. He’d upped the stakes, but that just meant victory would be all the sweeter. She rolled up her sleeves, blew out a breath, and got ready to work.
“I asked the judges to be here at five thirty, so we have ninety minutes. Two dozen dumplings each. Ten minutes for a dipping sauce. You ready?”
He gave a small nod. “Let’s do this.”
Now where the hell is my rolling pin?
*
“You’re overmixing thedough. It’s going to be tough.” The two of them were working side by side and couldn’t seem to stop offering commentary on the other’s efforts.
“Keep your eye on your own paper. Worry about your own damn dumplings,” Bethany tossed back with a scowl.
She looked at the contents of his mixing bowl and snickered to herself. If you asked her, Ethan’s veggies weren’t chopped finely enough. The last thing anyone wanted was to bite into a huge hunk of Napa cabbage that wasn’t fully cooked through.
Victory was hers.
“Your pleats are messy. The dumplings are going to burst open when you cook them,” he commented mildly when she was struggling to seal the dumplings and make them halfway presentable.
“It’s been years since I’ve done this,” Bethany muttered. “Leave me alone.” She wouldn’t have had this problem if she’d been using the store-bought, which she was much more familiar with. This was all his fault. Then she glanced over. His pleats were perfect, but looking a tad overstuffed. She’d bet money that his were the ones that would explode in the pot.
Bethany went to the big cabinet and brought down the biggest pot she owned and put in her creations in a steamer basket. Meanwhile, Ethan went into her oven and took out a skillet.
“You’re making guoties?” she asked, surprised.
“Of course, they’re much more flavorful than steamed.” Ethan took his plate of dumplings over to the stove.
Gritting her teeth, Bethany showed him where the oil was and left him to it. Meanwhile, she had to wait until her pot of water came to a boil before her dumplings started cooking. She concentrated on her dipping sauce while keeping an eye on the pot.
She got busy chopping cilantro, garlic, adding chili oil, sesame oil, and soy sauce. It was all about proportions and balancing the flavors. Unable to resist, she looked over at her opponent standing watch over his guoties. Bethany hated to admit it, but the smells were starting to make her salivate and her stomach growled. Ethan took one off the pan and it had a perfect crispy bottom. Damn it.
“Your water’s boiling.”
“Shoot.” Rushing over, she placed the steamer basket into the pot, carefully put on the lid and set her timer. She was all done. There was nothing for her to do until judgment time. Bethany looked at her watch. It looked like she was going to make it with about two minutes to spare. She tried not to be smug about it. She’d be gracious in victory.
It was Ethan’s turn to make a dipping sauce, and with a frown, she realized that their ingredients were quite similar. But no matter. The better dumplings (hers) would still reign supreme.
He was using his tongs to get his pot stickers onto the platter when the timer went off.
“Time’s up!” Bethany announced, confident the win was in the bag. “Our judges should be here any minute.”
“Who did you ask anyone? People from the hospital?” he asked, curious. Fastidious to the last, he used a dish towel to wipe the rim of the platter pristine clean and threw a bunch of cilantro on top for garnish.
Show-off.
“You’ll see.”
A few moments later, the judges were knocking at the door.
“Thanks for coming, you guys,” Bethany said, beaming at the Mehras.
“Anything for free food,” Rahul joked. Bethany noted with approval that he was holding a cake carrier.
“Thanks for the invite. We can’t wait,” Jaya said. “I made some cheesecake. I figured we can have that for dessert after the tasting.”
“Mr. Ethan! Hi!” Priyanka chirped in delight as she made a beeline for him. She wrapped her arms around his legs. Even Bethany had to acknowledge how sweet it was.
“Hello, Priyanka. Are you here for the dumpling tasting?” Once Pri let go, he crouched down to get eye level with the little girl.
Pri nodded her head vigorously. “Mommy, Daddy, and I are the judges!” Then she added in a not so soft whisper, “But don’t worry, I’m going to vote for you.”
“Hey!” Bethany snapped. “You’re supposed to be an impartial judge.”
“What does impavel mean?” Priyanka asked, wrinkling her nose in confusion.
“Never mind that,” Jaya said, rolling her eyes. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
With a sniff, Bethany put the cheesecake in the fridge for later and had everyone sit at the kitchen table.
“This is a blind tasting. You will be judging on taste, presentation, and the dipping sauce. We’re going to start with A.”
She brought over her plate of dumplings, secretly smug that she’d gotten to go first. But only after she won in a fast and furious game of rock, paper, scissors.
Setting the plate down in front of the Mehras with a flourish and a “Bon appétit”, Bethany joined Ethan in the kitchen, and they watched the judges taste her dumplings. Jaya and Rahul’s faces were giving nothing away, which just made things worse. But the three of them ate all twelve dumplings she’d presented, which boosted her confidence. Not that she’d needed it.
“A glass of water has been provided as a palate cleanser between entries,” Bethany informed them.
They all took a few sips.
“Now B.” In the interest of fairness, she presented Ethan’s pot stickers with similar flair.
“It feels weird eating while the two of you are staring at us like that,” Rahul commented, his mouth full of dumplings.
And all twelve of his dumplings were gone too. Damn it.
“Maybe you two should go into the living room while the judges deliberate?” Jaya’s tone indicated it really wasn’t a suggestion.
The two of them sat on the couch, both ramrod straight while they awaited the verdict.
“I still think they’ll pick mine,” he said confidently.
“In your dreams,” she scoffed. “Yours were way too big. Did you see how Priyanka was struggling with them?”
“Maybe yours were too small,” Ethan retorted.
Nettled, Bethany was about to toss back that his dumplings were dripping with grease and would give all three Mehras stomachaches when they heard from the judges.
“We’ve made a decision.”
The two of them trooped back into the kitchen, each sure victory was theirs.
“Now, before we get started, I just want to say that this was a very difficult decision,” Jaya said, with mock seriousness. “It was really close and all three of us agree it could’ve gone either way.”
“Oh stop it, Tom Colicchio,” Bethany burst out, unable to take it anymore. “Just tell us who won!”
“Why do you always have to ruin the moment? Why won’t you let me be great?” her friend demanded with a roll of her eyes and a sigh. Jaya then looked at her husband, who picked up on the cue.
“Well after long and careful deliberation, we declare the winner is…Dumpling A.”
“Yes! Victory is mine!” Bethany fist-pumped and started doing her patented victory dance. She’d never had any doubts this was how it would go down. But she could be a gracious winner. She wouldn’t rub it in Ethan’s face. Much.
Making sure her smile wasn’t too smug, she extended her hands to him. “It was a well-fought battle, and you were a worthy opponent.”
Grudgingly, Ethan shook her hand. “I still say it wasn’t a fair contest. The judging was biased.”
“Wow, someone can’t take an L,” she teased.
“I resent that,” Jaya said, hands on hips. “It was a blind judging and totally fair.”
“I’m serious,” he said with a thoughtful frown. “The Mehras are your neighbors. They’ve probably had your dumplings before, so of course they’re going to prefer yours to mine.”
The elder Mehras just rolled their eyes while Bethany crossed her arms, stewed, and considered his words.
As much as she hated to admit it, perhaps he had a point.
“Fine. Let’s get someone else to judge.”
“How?” Rahul asked. “We already ate all the dumplings.”
“Oh no, we both made two dozen, so there’s plenty left.”
“Of course you did.” This from Jaya.
Priyanka tugged on the sleeves of her mother’s shirt. “Mommy? Can we have cheesecake now?”
“Not yet, sweetie.”
“But I want dessert. You promised!”
“Don’t worry, Pri,” Bethany assured the little girl. “We just need one more person to try the dumplings and then you can have all the cheesecake you want.”
“Yay!”
“If my daughter gets hopped up on a sugar high because of this I’m going to kill you,” Jaya muttered into Bethany’s ear.
Ignoring her friend, she turned to Ethan. “How about Mrs. Nogales down in 6D?”
“As long as she’s never had your dumplings before, I’m fine with it.”
“Fine. I’ll go downstairs and invite her. I’ll be right back.” Bethany walked to her door, ready to pull her shoes on.
“No. Rahul, why don’t you and Pri go downstairs and fetch Mrs. Nogales? You know how much she always loves seeing her?” The sweetness of Jaya’s tone didn’t detract an iota from the command.
Soon enough the three of them were left alone in the apartment. Left with nothing to do, Bethany started making a dent in the dishes. To her surprise, Ethan automatically helped her clear off and wipe down the counters while they waited. But not without offering his opinion on her dishwasher-loading technique.
“It would be more efficient if you put the plates in the back and the mixing bowls in the bottom rack.”
“Listen I’ve been living here for over five years now, and I think I know my dishwasher better than you, thank you very much,” Bethany muttered, elbow-deep in soap suds.
“You should be less hostile to accepting constructive criticism and advice. Just trying to be helpful.”
“When I want your help, I’ll ask for it.” Bethany had to remind herself she was almost thirty years old and should be above sticking out her tongue.
“Oh for God’s sake, you two. Just go off somewhere, bang it out, and get it over with already, why don’t you? You’re driving me, and everyone else crazy,” Jaya burst out. In response, Bethany and Ethan just looked at her, completely bemused.
Then looked at each other. “Are all your friends so brazen about discussing your sex life? Is this an American thing? Because I am definitely not used to it,” Ethan queried.
“Trust me, it’s just Jaya. We don’t talk about sex.”
“You need to have it to talk about it,” Jaya piped in. “Which is the problem here, like I’ve been telling you. You’re so tightly wound up. Just do us all a favor.”
Bethany turned to her. “You can see Ethan and I can’t go more than five minutes without bickering. What makes you think we should be having sex?”
“Actually I’d be interested in her answer as well.”
Thank God they were on the same page there and Ethan was as baffled as she was.
“Not that I’m opposed to sex, mind you. I’m no prude. But seriously, can you even imagine? We’d kill each other before we even got to the bedroom.” The words came out of her mouth before she thought better of it and hung in the air like a lead balloon.
Flushing beet red, she couldn’t take her eyes off the man. Now that Jaya had planted the idea in her head, it’d taken root, and she couldn’t shake it. And she couldn’t understand why.
Ethan reaching over her to turn off her faucet snapped her back to reality.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Your sink was about to overflow,” he said with damned equanimity. Bethany hated that he clearly had no problem letting Jaya’s words roll off his back while she couldn’t.
To her undying relief, there was a knock on her door. Saved by the bell. As she went over to let in Mrs. Nogales, Rahul, and Priyanka, she passed by her friend, who had the most insufferable smirk on her face.
“Case closed,” Jaya said softly with a chuckle.
Right then and there, Bethany resolved to go overboard for Priyanka’s next birthday. She was going to Google and look for the biggest, noisiest, and most annoying toys and buy every single one of them. Every. Single. One.