“What? No, I’m sure they taste delicious. It’s just…” Dr.Blaire’s glance cuts to her husband.
“From what we’re smelling, I’m surprised to see that they’re burgers.” Mayor Beecham inhales deeply. He shakes his head. “Yeah, no. I’m not getting burger smell at all.”
“It’s because I used a different recipe. I mixed a bulgogi marinade in the patties and then grilled them with onions topped with a kimchi aioli.”
Dr.Blaire and Mayor Beecham exchange anahaglance. “That sounds more like what we’re smelling,” Dr.Blaire says.
“And more to the point, what we’re about to eat.” Mayor Beecham takes a bite. “Oh my God, this is heaven,” he says with his mouth full.
“Daniel Beecham, manners,” Dr.Blaire chastises him playfully. But when she takes her first bite, she does the same. “Sorry, it can’t be helped,” she says.
The four of us collectively sigh and are able to eat now that our fears are put to rest.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Mayor Beecham says, and we lean in. “Being the mayor of this town comes with its perks. Many residents of Blaire have us over, and I was hoping to be invited to a meal one day here.”
“Daniel!” Dr.Blaire says, equal parts horrified and amused.
“Oh, honey, it’s fine. The Oks don’t seem like the judgmental type.” Mayor Beecham gestures to us. Even though that’s exactly the type of people we thought they were, I’m relieved to discover that neither of us is being judgmental. I look at Mom and Dad, and they, like me, seem relieved to hear it. Like it’s a compliment.
“What a delight,” Mayor Beecham says after finishing his last bite. “One of the best meals I’ve had.”
“Me too. The cafe tries to keep things interesting by changing its menu options frequently. But nothing as interesting as theseburgers.” Suddenly Dr.Blaire’s face lights up. “You should work with the chef there to put this item on the menu.”
“What a great idea,” Mayor Beecham says.
“What? Is that possible?” Gavin perks up at the suggestion.
“Of course it is. Don’t you know who you’re talking to? I’m the mayor of this town.” Mayor Beecham puffs his chest out.
Dr.Blaire rolls her eyes. “Even so, you don’t need his approval. Just submit your recipe to Justine, the manager at the cafe. She’ll know what to do with it.”
“And make sure to share this recipe with the chef too. This aioli is tangy and spicy.” Mayor Beecham dabs his finger in the aioli drippings on his plate and puts it in his mouth. “I can’t get enough of it.”
“I can’t take all the credit,” Gavin says. “That’s my mom’s kimchi.”
“You made this?” Dr.Blaire marvels. “I just love kimchi, but, as you can guess, we don’t get much of it here. Every time Danny goes into town for business, it’s one of the items I ask him to bring back.”
“Really?” Dad asks, surprised.
“I just made a batch. I can give you a jar if you want,” Mom offers.
“I’d love a jar,” Dr.Blaire says.
I can’t help but notice Mom’s smile stretches wider than I’ve seen it in the past few weeks—in the past few years. And it’s all because Dr.Blaire showed appreciation for something Mom values in herself. Making kimchi, as I’ve recently learned, is her way of providing for the people she cares about most. In fact, as I look around the table, I notice Gavin’s more at ease than I’ve seen him before in a group setting, and Dad is laughing louder than I’m used to hearing. I can even feel myself engaging more in this dinner party than any other party I’ve attended.
When the evening winds down, Mayor Beecham and Dr.Blaire thank us before they leave, taking a jar of Mom’s kimchi with them.After we clear the table, I open the cooler of ice cream Dr.Blaire left behind. Inside is a small metal canister with enough ice cream for a petite scoop, which is all we can manage after the burgers. At the table, we each take a spoon and decide to eat right out of the container.
“Oh my God,” I moan. The richness of the ice cream and the crunchy bits of sweet, candied honey are sinfully decadent.
“This…is ice cream?” Mom seems unconvinced. “The texture is smooth, more like Greek yogurt.”
“That’s because Dr.Blaire keeps her cows happy,” Dad tries to explain, but it only confuses Mom more.
“It kind of tastes like the one Van Leeuwen makes,” Gavin observes.
“Right? That’s what I had in mind when I suggested the idea, but this is way better,” I say.
“No, definitely better,” Gavin agrees.
