Add Spice to Taste (15 page)

Someone who believes in you.

To Taste

The flat
top
grill on the stove was overheating, much like I was in the Indian summer of late September. I filled a small pitcher with water and splashed it across the grill’s stainless steel, sending up a cloud of smoke to the sound of a thunderous sizzle. The scraper glided across the surface smoothly as I removed all the burning grease.

“Hey, Jules, will you slice up a red onion for me?” I called out. “And some provolone?”

Julianna came in from the back room, where she had been filling up a few spice canisters from the bulk bins. “Sure, babe.” Julianna stopped to peck me on the cheek as she passed me. “Oh, you’re running low on black beans.”

A little bolt of anxiety gripped my stomach for a second. My creamy Southwest black bean soup was one of my biggest sellers. Running out of beans would be bad.

“Don’t worry,” she said, as if reading my thoughts. “You’ve got enough for the next week.”

“Okay, but would you
put in the order ASAP, please?”

“Yes, Chef!” she said with mock obedience.

I laughed. “I like the sound of that.”

“Besides, I already did.”

“You’re the best. I got a little nervous for a minute there.”

“I know. I could tell. You get this little freaky look when you’re running low on something.”

“You know me too well.”

“I should
, after working with you for a year.”

I stopped for a moment. “Wow, I can’t believe it’s been a year.” Julianna looked at me,
a jar of cumin in hand. “And it’s been the best year ever,” I added, putting on my sincerest face.

She
winked and returned to the back room. That made me feel almost giddy.

When she returned with the items I’d asked for,
I placed a few slices of the provolone and a few rings of onions on the panini I was making and pressed the sandwich down with a foil-covered brick. As I finished up the last of the orders, Julianna cleaned up the tables, placing the dishes, glasses, cups, and utensils in a bucket. The last of the customers left and I finished up in the kitchen.

Sometimes, while I worked in the kitchen and she was out front taking orders or making the coffee, I looked out at her and t
hought that I was dreaming. In moments of fatigue, insecurity, anxiety, or PMS, I questioned everything. But then I would see her and I was renewed.

Julianna sank into a chair as I flipped the “open” sign to “closed.”

“You okay?” I asked.

“
Yes, just a little tired.”

I joined her at the table. “
Do you think I was crazy opening up another café?” I took her hand and traced her knuckles with my thumb.

“Absolutely not. If I thought that, I wouldn’t have suggested it.”

She had such faith in me that it made me want to cry. “Thank you.”

She shrugged. “I just encouraged you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you. And it was
prit-tee
smart of me putting you in charge of the herbal teas and health shakes. Everyone loves them.”

She narrowed her eyes mysteriously. “It’s my secret ingredient.” She stroked my hand. “You just needed a kick in the butt.”

“I think I just needed you.”

“And a kick in the butt.”

I gave the place one last inspection to make sure everything was in order. “I think my luck changed when I met you.”

Her eyebrows went up.
“How so?”

“Well, how lucky was I that the last owner of this place decided to move out West just when I was looking for a place? I mean, really, a turnkey establishment? And in the
East Village, where I wanted it? I’ve never been that lucky.
You
brought me that luck.”

“Uh-huh. All I did was support you.”

I grunted. “Can’t you just accept that you’re a goddess?”

“No, because you helped me, too.
” I knew she meant that by working for me, she was earning money for her documentary, something that wasn’t happening just teaching yoga.

“
Okay, okay,” I said, laughing. “Let’s go home.” I started to get up but she didn’t let go of my hand.

Julianna gave me one of her dimpled smiles as she regarded me a moment.

“What?” I asked.

“
You’re really cute.”

I felt my
cheeks color, something she could she still do to me, even after a year. “What makes you say that?”

“You just are. And you
’re amazing. I’m so proud of you.”

I shrugged. “Why? I’m not so special.”

“You had a dream and you made it happen,” she said simply.

I paused.
“What did I do to deserve you?”

She
picked up her backpack and the bottle of iced tea she was drinking. “You need to stop that. I know your past made you feel less than worthy. But that’s done. I wish you’d see that.”

Pouting playfully, I shuffled my feet and moved closer to her.
“Okay, okay.” I pulled her against me and kissed her lips. “I still think I must’ve done something good to get you.”

In a soft voice, she sang the chorus of “
Something Good” from
The Sound of Music
, and I felt nothing but utter, pure love. No one in my life had ever been so gentle with my heart or soothing to my soul.

“By the way,
” I said, squeezing her hand. “I’ve been meaning to tell you. You’ve learned to make one mean omelet.”

“Woo
hoo! I can cook eggs!” She lifted our hands in the air.

“Listen, don’t laugh. Every fold in a chef’s toque represents a different egg dish that
they’ve mastered.”

She laughed, practically choking, and I joined her.

We walked out and I locked up the café. The Empire State Building was lit up in green, orange, and yellow, and like highlights in a young girl’s hair, the colors accentuated the fiery hues of the sky in the west. We turned south and headed downtown. Sometimes we stopped off to get dinner somewhere, but tonight we headed home. We had a date to celebrate our one-year anniversary. We marked the day as the first night we spent together after we had made up, and we planned one day to get married on that same day.

The weather was beginning to change. It was still plenty hot, but
I could almost smell the imminent fragrant scent of autumn leaves and apples and cinnamon. The subway tunnels still retained the heat and damp odors from the summer. People stepped up close to the edge of the platforms as the rumblings
of a train came from deep within the tunnels. With the eminent arrival of a train came the cool breeze that New Yorkers welcomed, even if it did come from the dank bowels of a century-old labyrinth.

As we stood on the platform, waiting for our train, I wiped a drop of sweat from Julianna’s temple. It reminded me of when she had kissed my tears away and I felt my eyes well up.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, a little alarmed.

“Nothing. I just love you, that’s all.” Saying that made me want to cry even more, because I felt it more.
I had opened up the recesses of my soul and she now held it gently in her hands.

She
smiled at me, her dimples standing out in the heated redness of her cheeks. “I love you too. I’m going to show you how much.” She wiggled her eyebrows and I couldn’t help but laugh.

There was no way I could feel sad about anything for very long
around Julianna. That was another thing I put on her.

I took her hand and
kissed her fingertips. “I have a thing or two to show
you
.”

Both her eyebrows went up in
playful shock. “What are you going to do to me?”

“
You’ll see.”

She looked at me
, intrigued.

Our train roared into the station
and people began crowding around us to be ready to swoop into the car as soon as the doors opened. Julianna’s hair had grown out and it whipped around in the blast of wind.

The doors opened. I took her hand and pulled her onto the train
and maneuvered us to the end, against the emergency door. I pressed my back against the door and let Julianna lean against me, my arms wrapped around her waist. I leaned close to her ear and whispered, “By the end of the night, you’re going to blame me for a lot of things.”

She laughed. “Good. I’m counting on it.”

The End

Curriculum/Recipes

Day 1:

Knife Skills

Spice
Lesson

Preserved
Lemons

Spice Olives

Spinach with Preserved Lemon

Roasted Red Pepper Salad

Orange-Radish Salad

Stuffed Dates

Day 2:

Couscous Royale

Chicken
Tagine

Lentil Salad

Roasted Eggplant with Cilantro Dressing

Cardamom
Oranges

Day 3:

Kebabs with
Mint Sauce

Chick
pea and Vegetable Tagine

Lemon
Chicken

Saffron Couscous

Meskouta (Orange-Almond-Yogurt Cake)

Day 4:

Kefta
Meatballs

Spiced
Orzo

Harira
(Tomato-Lentil and Chickpea Soup)

Seffa
Medfouna (Saffron Chicken, Beef, or Lamb in a Dome of Steamed Couscous or Vermicelli)
Kaab el Ghazal
(Gazelle Horns)

The Party – Champagne Menu

Champagne
-Mushroom Pate

Herbed
Champagne Chevre with Toasted Almonds

Squash Ravioli with Brown Butter—
Champagne Sauce
Salmon in
Champagne-Vanilla Cream

Chicken in
Champagne Bechamel

Champagne
Wild Rice with Wild Mushrooms, Cranberries, and Roasted Pine Nuts
Champagne
and Honey-Mustard Glazed Vegetables

Baby Greens Salad with
Champagne Vinaigrette

Champagne
Sorbet

Champagne
Truffles

Raspberry Tartlets with
Champagne Zabaglione and Champagne-Poached Figs
Mini Cupcakes
Filled with Champagne Ganache, topped with Champagne-Strawberry Cream

Orange
and Radish Salad
This salad is sometimes made with grated carrots instead of oranges.

10 medium radishes

1
teaspoon orange flower water or rosewater

2
tablespoons fresh lemon juice

1/8
teaspoon cinnamon

1/8
teaspoon sugar (optional)

Wash radishes well. Cut off
stems and trim both ends. Slice as thinly as possible and place in a medium bowl.

Segment the oranges: Cut off a small slice from top and bottom. Cut off peel and pith from top to bottom, going all the way around until all peel and pith are removed. Over a bowl, cut out orange segments by carefully running knife in between membranes. Let the juices and segments drop into the bowl. When all segments are removed, squeeze juice out of membranes and discard. Add orange segments to radishes.

In a small bowl, combine lemon juice, orange flower water, 2 tablespoons of fresh orange juice, and cinnamon.

Mix together and pour over oranges and radishes. Mix well. Let chill for about 30 minutes. Serve at room temperature.

Makes 6 servings.