Chapter 19 #2
“I’m going to grind them and add them to my own spices for the pork chop…or maybe see if it goes with the fennel. We’ll figure it out as we go. You two ready?”
Elijah nodded, I shrugged—what did we have to lose in this experiment?
Gabriella put me to work removing the seeds from the dried chilies first. She took her time showing Elijah how to cut the fennel bulbs, then carefully supervised him with the mandoline and a special glove to protect his hands.
As we cooked, we each offered suggestions. Salt and pepper for the salad, chives and bacon for the potatoes. Gabriella took charge of the main course; she expertly seasoned the lamb chops with the freshly ground chilies, her hands moving with the confidence of a master chef.
The kitchen buzzed with activity, the air filled with the fragrant blend of sweet and spicy. Elijah accidentally dropped a peach slice, and his face fell in disappointment. “Oops! Sorry, I messed up,” he mumbled, looking up at Gabriella and me.
Gabriella laughed it off amid the sizzle of the lamb chops. “Elijah, in cooking, there’s always room for a little mistake. It’s all about how we recover and keep going,” she reassured him, her voice warm and encouraging.
Bolstered by our support, Elijah dove back into his task with renewed vigor, his small hands skillfully maneuvering around the cutting board.
As the lamb chops were seared to perfection under Gabriella’s watchful eye, I coated the salad, drizzling the lemon-and-olive-oil dressing over the fennel with a flourish.
“Here. Taste.” Gabriella offered Elijah and me a spoonful of the braise, and we gave it a total of four thumbs-up.
“This meal deserves my good china,” I declared, making a beeline to my closet and fetching a box I hadn’t planned to open any time soon.
My mother had given us the set when we married, and I used it only twice a year: Thanksgiving and Easter.
But in the spirit of seizing the day, and in light of this five-star dish, I figured why not?
I unboxed the dishes to their ooohs and aaahs.
“It’s like we’re kings and queens,” Elijah marveled.
“We are,” Gabriella said. “Kings and queens of this house. And we should enjoy it.”
Just as we’d finished preparing the table, the doorbell rang.
“Who could that be?” Gabriella asked, glancing over at me.
“My word. Must be Richard,” I muttered, retrieving my phone from my apron pocket. Sure enough, I’d missed a call and two texts from him confirming he was coming. “I invited him over earlier when we ran into each other at the farmers market.”
“Richard, huh?” Elijah inquired, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“An old friend of mine,” I reminded him, trying to keep my tone nonchalant. “He’s here to try our Kitchen Chef Showdown masterpiece.”
“Really?” Gabriella chimed in, throwing me a mischievous grin over Elijah’s head.
“Friend,” I repeated as I removed my apron.
I walked over to the door, where Richard stood with a bottle of wine in hand. “I hope it’s okay that I came over without a final confirmation,” he said hesitantly.
“I’m sorry. Elijah, Gabriella, and I got so busy cooking, I didn’t realize my ringer was off. Sure, come on in.”
“Whatever you’re cooking smells incredible,” Richard remarked, handing me the wine. “You three must be quite the team.”
“Indeed, we are,” I replied. He followed me to the kitchen, where he exchanged pleasantries with Elijah and Gabriella.
I added an extra place setting at the table, anticipation building as we awaited the judgment from our guest. And though I was nervous about sharing our culinary experiment with someone else, I also felt a sense of pride in what we’d accomplished.
We had taken a hodgepodge of ingredients and turned them into something wonderful—just like the unlikely friendship that had blossomed between us all.
“This looks amazing. I almost don’t want to eat it,” Richard said. “But I will.”
We all laughed at his joke and absorbed his compliment.
“Wait,” Elijah said, holding up a hand. “I want to say grace first.” We all bowed our heads as Elijah began. “Dear God, thank you for this food and for bringing us together today. We’re grateful that we know how to make something great with whatever we have. Amen.”
Hope sang in my heart with Elijah’s simple yet profound words. He was right. Life had thrown its share of curveballs my way, but Elijah’s simple prayer reminded me that there was still beauty in the mess.
As I took my first bite of the salad we had all created, I let out a sigh of satisfaction. The flavors melded together in a way that surprised and delighted me. I glanced around the table, noting the smiles on everyone’s faces as they dug into their plates.
“Joyce,” Richard said between bites, “this is incredible. I can’t believe you all came up with this using all ingredients from the farmers market.”
“Me neither.” Gabriella chuckled. “But it was a group effort.” She high-fived Elijah.
Elijah nodded enthusiastically, his mouth full of food. “Yeah, Grandma Joyce picked out the chilies.”
Richard gave a friendly nod in my direction.
As we sat there, chatting and laughing while the sun dipped below the horizon, I knew that this was a moment I would treasure for years to come.
In the company of my new makeshift family.
In that moment, it felt like everything would fall into place.
Eventually. In the good days ahead. I just wanted them to get here already.