“I missed that.”
“You had no idea what it looked like,” I replied, rapping him lightly on the bicep with it.
Chris grabbed my wrist and took the potato peeler out of my hand.
“I would have figured it out eventually.”
He picked up a potato out of the sink and started attacking it with the peeler.
“What are you doing?” I shouted. “You might as well just chew it.”
“I’m peeling it!”
“You’re ruining it.”
I stood slightly to the side of him and grabbed his hand.
“It’s a long stroking gesture,” I explained. “Then the potato skin just peels off.”
“I wish you wouldn’t talk about peeling long strips of things off things when you’re standing that close to my junk,” he joked.
I jumped back, suddenly realizing how close I was to him.
“I just don’t want you to ruin the potatoes,” I muttered and hurried to chop up the onions, bacon, and leeks. Then I sliced the potatoes as Chris handed them to me.
Gran came back out into the kitchen right as I poured the egg mixture in the sizzling pan.
“Bet you didn’t think you scored a wife who could cook!” Gran said, elbowing Chris in the side.
“And wowza! Have you felt his chest, Grace?” she exclaimed, rubbing her elbow. “He’s hard as granite.”
“Yep,” Chris said smugly. “Pretty much everywhere.”
“You sure you want a divorce?” Gran quipped as I scooped the crispyBauernfrühstückonto three plates.
Chris had gotten the hang of potato peeling a little too quickly, and we ended up with a mountain of food.
“There’s a lot, guys,” I said, putting the cast iron skillet with the rest of the dish in the center of the long reclaimed wood table.
“Leftovers are always good,” Gran said, squirting ketchup all over her eggs.
“That’s not German,” Chris remarked.
“But it’s American,” Gran said sagely, “and that’s what’s important.”
I rolled my eyes and took a bite of the food. Along withKäsespätzle,Bauernfrühstückwas one of my go-to comfort foods.
“I should make a candle that smells like this dish!” Gran said happily. “Bet it would sell out.”
“Forget that, you should quit weddings and just sell plates of this stuff off the side of the road,” Chris suggested.
I looked at his almost-empty plate.
“Did you just inhale that?”
He took another huge forkful. “It’s amazing. Best thing ever. Grace, you’re a star!”
I felt a rush of pleasure that he enjoyed what I cooked!
