Elijah and I both shook our heads.
He bowed out. “You’re the chef. I’m just the assistant.”
“Ms. Joyce?”
“I’m with Elijah.”
Gabriella nodded. “Okay, I see how it is. But that’s all right. It’s giving me good practice for the competition.”
She held my chilies to her nose. Her chest expanded as shesmelled my contribution. “These are amazing.” She inhaled the peaches next. “Yes, yes, and more yes.”
Elijah and I stood still, watching her handle each ingredient, smell it, take it into her whole being. It was magic, really.
“This is gonna be good,” she said. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the girl was intoxicated from the smells and textures alone.
“Our appetizer will be fennel salad. Main course, peach honey-grilled lamb chops. I’ll throw in some potatoes for good measure.”
My mouth was watering already.
“What about the dried chilies?” Elijah asked.
“I’m going to grind them and add them to my own spices for the pork chop…or maybe see if it goes with the fennel. We’ll figure it out as we go. You two ready?”
Elijah nodded, I shrugged—what did we have to lose in this experiment?
Gabriella put me to work removing the seeds from the dried chilies first. She took her time showing Elijah how to cut the fennel bulbs, then carefully supervised him with the mandoline and a special glove to protect his hands.
As we cooked, we each offered suggestions. Salt and pepper for the salad, chives and bacon for the potatoes. Gabriella took charge of the main course; she expertly seasoned the lamb chops with the freshly ground chilies, her hands moving with the confidence of a master chef.
The kitchen buzzed with activity, the air filled with the fragrant blend of sweet and spicy. Elijah accidentally dropped a peach slice, and his face fell in disappointment. “Oops! Sorry, I messed up,” he mumbled, looking up at Gabriella and me.
Gabriella laughed it off amid the sizzle of the lamb chops. “Elijah, in cooking, there’s always room for a little mistake. It’s all about how we recover and keep going,” she reassured him, her voice warm and encouraging.
Bolstered by our support, Elijah dove back into his task with renewed vigor, his small hands skillfully maneuvering around the cutting board. As the lamb chops were seared to perfection under Gabriella’s watchful eye, I coated the salad, drizzling the lemon-and-olive-oil dressing over the fennel with a flourish.
“Here. Taste.” Gabriella offered Elijah and me a spoonful of the braise, and we gave it a total of four thumbs-up.
“This meal deserves my good china,” I declared, making a beeline to my closet and fetching a box I hadn’t planned to open any time soon. My mother had given us the set when we married, and I used it only twice a year: Thanksgiving and Easter. But in the spirit of seizing the day, and in light of this five-star dish, I figured why not?
I unboxed the dishes to theirooohs andaaahs.
“It’s like we’re kings and queens,” Elijah marveled.
“We are,” Gabriella said. “Kings and queens of this house. And we should enjoy it.”
Just as we’d finished preparing the table, the doorbell rang.
“Who could that be?” Gabriella asked, glancing over at me.
“My word. Must be Richard,” I muttered, retrieving my phone from my apron pocket. Sure enough, I’d missed a call and two texts from him confirming he was coming. “I invited him over earlier when we ran into each other at the farmers market.”
“Richard, huh?” Elijah inquired, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“An old friend of mine,” I reminded him, trying to keep my tone nonchalant. “He’s here to try our Kitchen Chef Showdownmasterpiece.”
“Really?” Gabriella chimed in, throwing me a mischievous grin over Elijah’s head.
“Friend,” I repeated as I removed my apron.
