Cole didn't scold. Didn't sigh with frustration. He simply grabbed a paper towel from the roll. "First pancake's always a tester. Same principle applies to eggs, apparently."
"I'm really sorry, Uncle C."
"Don't be sorry. Learning requires mistakes. Try again with a new one. You've absolutely got this."
The second egg was a complete triumph. A perfect confident crack, the yolk sliding whole and unbroken into the bowl. Sarah's face lit up like sunrise breaking over the mountains.
"I did it! Look, Uncle C, I did it!"
"You did it perfectly. Natural egg-cracker. Professional level."
"I want to do another one."
"Let's not push our luck too far. One documented success is enough for now."
I couldn't help myself any longer. "The key is confidence," I called out from my couch position. "Hesitation is what causes the shell to crumble like that."
Cole shot me a look over his shoulder. "You're supposed to be resting that ankle."
"I'm resting and supervising simultaneously. Efficient multitasking."
"Supervisors who don't rest don't get pancakes."
"Supervisors who offer valuable guidance get extra pancakes. That's the rule."
Sarah giggled at our exchange. Cole's mouth twitched, fighting against a smile he clearly didn't want to show.
He added milk and melted butter to the eggs, whisking the wet ingredients with concentration. A splatter of batter escaped the bowl and hit the cupboard door. He wiped it away without comment and kept whisking determinedly.
"In my research," he said, his tone deadly serious, "it says we need to let the batter rest for five minutes after mixing the wet and dry ingredients together. For gluten development."
He said "gluten development" like he was describing a complex military extraction protocol or wilderness survival technique. I was not going to laugh. I was absolutely, positively not going to laugh at this man who had stayed up watching cooking videos to learn how to make a proper meal.
"Research?" I managed, my voice coming out slightly strangled with suppressed amusement.
He glanced over at me, caught my expression, and his tense shoulders relaxed just a fraction. A sheepish, almost boyishsmile touched his lips. "I stayed up pretty late watching cooking videos online. Turns out breakfast isn't actually that complicated to make. I've just been lazy about it. Relying on cereal and instant stuff when Sarah deserved much better than that."
"Uncle C made me cereal this morning before we came," Sarah stage-whispered, sidling over toward the couch conspiratorially. "But he said we're learning together so we can make real food after today."
The "we" in that sentence did something dangerous and wonderful to my heart simultaneously. It wasn't just him trying to impress me with newfound cooking skills. It was him including Sarah in this, building something new with her. Teaching her while learning himself.
"Five minutes is officially up," Cole announced, checking his phone timer. "Time for the actual cooking part. This is where it gets serious."
He heated my skillet on the stove, testing the temperature with a flick of water the way I'd seen professional chefs do on cooking shows. The water droplets sizzled and danced across the hot surface.
"That means it's ready for batter," he said, mostly to himself. "I think. Probably."
He ladled batter carefully onto the hot surface. It spread into a vaguely circular shape that was more oval than round.
"Uncle C, the pancake is bubbling on top."
"That means it's ready to flip. Probably ready. The video mentioned bubbles."
"You don't sound sure about that."
"The video wasn't entirely clear on the specific bubble situation and timing."
"Bubbles definitely mean flip," I called out helpfully from my supervisory position.
