Nowhere but Home A Novel - By Liza Palmer Page 0,99
piece of cabrito. He puts it in his mouth, wincing dramatically with his eyes closed, and chews.
“It’s good! It just—,” Cody starts.
“Tastes like chicken?” Harlan finishes.
We all can’t help but laugh. I hear the kitchen door click open as our laughter subsides. Shawn walks into the kitchen.
“Smells good in here,” he says, scanning the room.
“Thank you,” I say, happy he’s here. Can I be here without him?
“Y’all have a little over an hour, so I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Shawn says.
“Good . . . good,” I say, my eyes flicking over to the clock on the wall. I can’t believe we have only an hour. I watch Harlan and Cody come to the same realization.
“Okay, I’ll be back then,” Shawn says.
“And I’ll have your supper ready by four fifteen,” I say.
“I’m looking forward to it,” he says. Shawn walks out of the kitchen and when the door closes we scatter immediately.
“Cody, start on that ensalada. Harlan, how’s that salsa coming?” Cody goes over to his station and starts peeling the citrus and chopping the apples and the beets. I stir the Mexican rice and the pinto beans de olla that we made earlier today. The cabrito is ready to go and the handmade corn tortillas I found at a local market taste perfect. Harlan watches the tamales as he makes his salsa.
I start in on the churro dish.
“Chef, we’ve got ten minutes,” Cody says, walking over as he finishes his salad. My churros are bubbling in the deep fryer, the Mexican hot chocolate sits steaming in a mug next to the ramekin of cajeta that Cody is eyeing. Harlan grabs the tray and a couple of plates. He sets them on the counter and walks over to us. There is a reverence to his actions. I feel the emotion begin to bubble up as the clock ticks down. I pull the churros from the deep fryer and place them in the awaiting sugar mixture. Cody rolls the churros through the sugar as I drop one after the other in. He sets the finished products on a towel-lined plate, covering up the growing pile. The churros are done. I walk over to the tray with the Mexican hot chocolate and the ramekin of cajeta. Cody follows me with the plate of steaming churros.
The tray. Once again, we just stand around it. Harlan places a plate in the middle of it. I find myself slowing down or maybe it just feels that way. Cody brings over the skillet with the cabrito, placing a serving on the side of the plate. He dishes out some Mexican rice and the pinto beans. Harlan heats up some corn tortillas and places them on a separate plate, covered with a paper towel. He sets his salsa down next to the tray.
“Chef?” Harlan offers his salsa up for my tasting. I take a fork and take a small bite of the salsa.
“Oh, that’s damn good, Harlan. Damn good,” I say. Harlan gives me a quick nod, but he can’t help but let a smile sneak to Cody. Jace wanders over and I give him a quick taste. He nods his approval. Harlan puts a small bowl of the salsa next to the tortillas on the tray.
“Cody, can you grab the orange soda in the fridge?” I ask. He obliges quickly.
I wrap the churros in parchment paper and place them next to the Mexican hot chocolate and cajeta on the side of the tray. They’re still steaming and glistening with a dusting of sugar. I walk over to the last canvas bag and find the Starburst. All six kinds. My hand curls around them. Candy. Re-creating Christmas.
“He’s young, isn’t he?” I ask, without looking at anyone.
“Yes, Chef,” Harlan says.
“I knew it,” I say, nodding. Nodding, I put the Starburst on the tray and stand back.
“The tamales!” Cody says, running over to the stove.
Two minutes.
Cody pulls four steaming green bundles from the big pot and hot-potatoes them over to the plate. He has to place them on top of the cabrito and Mexican rice, as there’s no more room anywhere on the tray.
One minute.
I look from Harlan to Cody then to Jace. We all join hands once more.
“Bless this food, Lord. Let it transport and remind us all of better times. Let it cleanse and purify. Let it nourish and warm. In it, let us find peace. In Jesus’ name, amen,” I say.
“Amen,” the men say.
The key card clicks and Shawn walks into the kitchen.