Chapter 5
FIVE
It is shaping up to be a less than ideal day for me. I have to lie about how happy and productive I am to Uncle again. I search up images of Park Güell so the tale of my visit to the garden designed by Antoni Gaudí is rooted in plausible visual accuracy.
Upon hearing me describe the bird nests, the brilliantly detailed and colorful tiled mosaics, fantastically shaped roofs with unusual pinnacles, and weaving sea serpent bench (thank you, Internet), Uncle asks whether the city sights have inspired new creativity in my cooking.
“My mind is blown wide open with possibilities!”
There is a tin of warmed up beans on my plate. And beyond that, Luke Abbot is the most boring eater I’ve ever met. It’s as if he’s attached a FitBit to his tongue. What I cook for him does not bear mentioning.
More questions come my way after Uncle hears my inflated enthusiasm, including what new recipes I’ve tried out, how does it feel to live independently like I’ve always wanted, and whether my employer has opportunities for advancement so my incredible talent can finally get the attention it deserves.
Uncle’s voice features such belief in me. It’s a marathon having to match his tone with equal bursts of hope and happiness.
To cap it all off, Mumbai’s Lotus Healing Center has billed for another month of service, sucking my accounts close to dry again .
There are so many people I am responsible for, who I can’t disappoint. There is no one in the driver’s seat of my life. Circumstances whip me forward.
For the last few years, it’s felt as if I lost the instruction manual for what to do and where to go next. Every night I question whether I shouldn’t be more aggressively trying to find another job and why I’m so tired at the end of the night, having done nothing to better my circumstances.
And then I wake up in the morning, restarting the cycle.
Today is particularly slow. I get ready, hoping the movement of a new day is enough to offset any maudlin thoughts.
It’s another shift of replenishing smoothies, making rice, green salad, and— shocker —poached salmon, not chicken.
No dressings or sauces on the side. Flavor once again is derived by a few shakes of pepper and even fewer shakes of salt.
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 not too bad.
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 mundane but 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.
The top winner of this competition receives $100,000 as a cash prize, but that’s not all!
The top three winners have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to interview to become a recipe developer for MealKit Masala, and will have their winning recipes featured in our annual email newsletter, sent out to over 1 million subscribers.
If you are a cook who gets inspired by food, you know visibility and word-of-mouth are an important part of establishing a career.
We know that in a sea of people who cook, how important it is for your recipes to reach a maximum number of people. But because it’s hard for most home cooks to get a platform big enough to be seen, they often end up having to give up on their culinary dreams.
This daring competition offers you the chance to showcase your talent with no barrier to entry, so you too can share your unique and tasty ideas with the world.
Change the trajectory of your future and ENTER NOW!
My hand holding up the phone shakes. It’s like this competition, Championing Unimaginable MealKits (CUM??) is speaking directly to me and is a panacea to solve all of my problems if I win.
With the money alone, I could afford my dad’s treatment and have money left over. How unimaginable. But then, there is this other prize. To interview to become a recipe developer for MealKits Masala?—
I shiver.
Recipe developer for a corporation is not exactly what I’d pinned on my future vision board, but it must involve pitching new food ideas, consistent improvement and the testing of those ideas, and discussing them in great detail with other passionate coworkers who love to objectively and academically assess the performance of a meal?—
I shiver again.
It’s everything.
A door forward.
My thumb moves across the screen of my phone, and the last page of the brochure flips over. There are instructions for the first round of the competition: Re-imagine a comfort food with your own twist on it.
I think: Oh, I can do that!
But then, I see it. The deadline for entering your submission for the first round of the competition is today.
How—
I can ’ t ? —
It’s too ? —
Looking around the kitchen, my mind races.
I’ve done the smoothie and lunch/dinner work already, but today is a cake day and that part hasn’t even been started. I message Kiren back.
ME
Did you know the deadline is today?!
KIREN
I know but please find a way to make it work if you can!
This is exactly your kind of competition and I have this feeling you would do amazing in it. I bet you must have so many ideas for this first round, considering all we ever eat is your versions of comfort food whenever we get together !
She lists Punjabi-style pizza, tarka spaghetti, and butter chicken grilled cheese as some of her past favorites.
The mini-list sparks me instantly. Like an old burner being creaked up, ideas start to heat up. Is it possible? Can I somehow pull this off?
I do a rough and dirty search on the internet, skimming articles on meal kits, coming to the conclusion that the best ones are graded on ease of preparation, method, and flavor.
Technically, still feeling inspired by Kiren’s suggestions, my Tandoori Mac ‘N’ Cheese fits those criteria…
It’s beloved by friends and family, and since I’ve made it so many times, all I have to do is execute the recipe, get it photographed beautifully, write up the step-by-step instructions, and then properly submit it all in the format of the competition guidelines—all while making a delicious cake on the side.
And it’s not so many ingredients that I feel overly guilty for skimming a few things off of Luke’s pantry. Especially since he’s super rich, and also since I plan to replace the ingredients with my next paycheck.
Trying not to overthink it or get overwhelmed, and feeling as if a tornado is now at my feet, I dive in.