Healing Hearts (Hope River #3) - Margaret McHeyzer Page 0,1
of flour and eggs sitting on the counter.
“I’m about to make fresh pasta for dinner.”
“Oh, can I watch?” I ask excitedly, then my shoulders fall as I add, “Unless I’ll be in your way. I can leave if you want.”
“Watch? Miss Tabitha, you can help,” she eagerly replies.
I look at her, then at the flour, then back to her. “You want me to help?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Tabitha. I didn’t mean any disrespect. I thought, maybe you’d like to learn.”
She’s misread my facial reaction for anger, rather than excitement. “Please, I’d love to help,” I say as I jump to my feet. “What do I do?”
“First you need to wash your hands. Never touch food with unwashed hands. That’s the most important rule in a kitchen.”
I follow Dorothy’s instructions, and wash my hands. “What now?” I stand beside her, and watch what she’s doing.
“First, we divide the flour between us.” She pointedly looks to the flour.
I look at the flour, then Dorothy. “Oh, you want me to do it?”
“The only way you’ll learn is to do it yourself. So, half for me, and half for you. Go on.” I open the bag of flour, and shake it out. “Lower, closer to the counter.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t want the flour going everywhere. You want to be able to contain the mess to just a small area. No chef likes a messy kitchen.”
“Okay.” I lower the bag I’m pouring the flour from, and divide it into two piles. One in front of Dorothy, and one in front of me. “Now what?”
“A good pinch of salt on each.”
I look for the salt that’s already on the counter, and I take some and sprinkle it over both piles of flour. “Is that good?”
“Yes, perfect. Now, make a well with the flour. It needs to be deep enough for the eggs, and so the eggs don’t run out everywhere.”
“Why?” I ask again.
“Because eggs make a mess. And if you create a well for them, it’s easier to mix the flour and egg together.”
“Ah, okay.” I watch as Dorothy forms the flour into a circle, then makes a well with her fingers. I mimic everything she’s doing.
“Now, get two bowls from the cupboard.” I grab two clear glass bowls. “Break two eggs in each.” I break the eggs into the first one successfully, then on the next two, some shell gets in. “Best way I’ve found to remove shell, is to use a bigger piece of the shell and scoop it out.” She picks up half a shell, and gets the flake that was floating in the raw eggs. “Now, season the eggs. You have to season every step of the way. But don’t be too heavy-handed with the salt. You can always add, but you can’t take it away once it’s in the food.”
“Okay.” I repeat the process of what I did for the flour. “Is this enough.”
“Perfect!’ Dorothy smiles at me. “Now, we need to beat the eggs. Use a fork. But don’t over beat it, just enough to combine the whites and the yolk. Like this.” She takes two forks out of the cutlery drawer, gives me one, and whisks the eggs together. I watch, and do what she’s doing. “Really good job, Miss Tabitha. We’re ready for the fun part. Empty the eggs in the well.”
I watch, and repeat exactly what she’s doing. She flicks parts of the flour into the egg, then with her fingers, starts incorporating the egg and the flour. “Aren’t there machines that do this for you?” I ask.
“Oh, hush now! Nothing tastes better than food you create yourself. Well unless, of course, someone else makes it for you. You can go to the store and buy a carton of pre-made pasta, but it doesn’t taste the same. You appreciate the food more when you’ve made it with your own two hands.”
I like Dorothy’s enthusiasm when it comes to cooking. “You like cooking then?”
“Like it? No way. I love it.”
“Where did you learn to cook?”
Dorothy smiles as she begins to knead the pasta dough. “My Momma. She was a great cook. She’d go to the fridge, look to see what was in there, and just throw things together. I grew up watching and helping her, like you are doing now.”
Dorothy is pretty old, maybe like fifty. She has gray hair and wrinkly hands, but she still moves like she’s younger. “My Aunt May can cook too. I like going to her house. She lets me help with everything.”