That snapped me back.
I stirred sausage into the skillet, scraping browned bits from the bottom before adding flour. The smell rose thick and savory, pepper and pork and hot fat. Sunny’s peach compote started bubbling across the way, bright and sweet over smoke. Her candied bacon was set over indirect heat, glistening with mapleand spice. My stomach tightened even though I’d eaten enough scraps to count as dinner.
She glanced toward my table. “Are those biscuits getting honey butter?”
“No.”
Her eyebrows rose.
I set the spoon down and reached for the little crock I’d made after seeing hers at breakfast. “Maybe.”
Sunny’s face changed in a way I wanted to put my hands on. “Flint Sparks. Are you plating with a finishing element?”
“It’s butter.”
“It’s honey butter.”
“It’s still butter.”
“That is adorable.”
“It’s functional.”
“It’s growth.”
“It’s breakfast.”
“It’s love, actually.”
I looked up.
Sunny’s smile faltered, just enough that I knew she’d heard herself.
My chest went tight again.
Caprice walked between the stations with a producer’s smile and eyes that missed nothing useful. “I’m going to need one of you to either say something about food or stop looking like I should invoice the sponsor for emotional labor.”
Sunny reached for a towel. “The honey butter supports the biscuit.”
“The honey butter supports my will to live,” Ed said.
I spooned gravy into a small pot and checked the potatoes. “Thirty percent of this shoot has been you complaining.”
“Great art requires suffering.”
“Then you’re making a masterpiece.”
Joelle glanced over her clipboard. “Please don’t encourage him. I’m nearly out of battery cards and patience.”
The final half hour moved fast.
Bacon fat popped in my skillet as I shifted a strip with the tongs. The flame below licked higher for half a second, catching the edge of the pan where grease had pooled. It wasn’t a fire yet. It wasn’t even close. But it had the look of one bad breath becoming a problem.
Ed leaned in with the camera. “That flare reads great. Can you hold that angle?”
Caprice looked up from her phone. “Safely, if you can. We need one stronger flame insert.”
I already had the pan off the hottest coal before she finished the sentence.
