My drive home is rushed and slightly panicked. I spent longer than planned at work, so I'm running behind if I want to have dinner ready before Henry arrives. Hitting almost all the red lights on the way home doesn't help and I arrive feeling anxious and frustrated.
Cooking usually calms and relaxes me, but tonight, I have a hard time getting into my rhythm. I'm so distracted worrying about what's going to happen with Jeff and whether my counter-attack will work that I find myself making silly mistakes.
When I add uncooked rice instead of cooked rice to the side dish that I need to get in the oven, I growl. Adding extra water, I throw it in the oven and hope it comes out okay.
I'm making Henry homemade schnitzel with a mushroom sauce and a side of crab and shrimp casserole and steamed asparagus. It's not a terribly difficult meal, but there are a lot of dishes to keep track of. Thankfully, I prepped all the vegetables this morning before work, so I'm not falling behind chopping.
With the casserole in the oven, I get the mushroom sauce going and start breading and frying the pork. The asparagus is already on the stovetop, heating up on a back burner.
I'm just adding the beef broth to the mushroom sauce when I catch a whiff of my least favorite smell. I look at the pans on the stove and see the dark smoke, no longer clean steam, rising from the asparagus pot. Quickly dumping in the rest of the broth, I grab a potholder and pull the asparagus to the unused, cool burner. I take the lid off and cough in the little cloud of acrid smoke that billows out. The asparagus doesn't look black, so I assume the water must have boiled out and the pan must have burnt. For now, I pray the veggies haven't taken on the taste of the burning pan and turn my attention back to the mushroom sauce.
Unfortunately, my untimely interruption for the asparagus left the sauce to boil the roux before mixing in. I find the sauce looking more like a soup with dumplings instead of the smooth, creamy concoction I was aiming for.
As I whisk the sauce quickly, hoping to break up the bits of roux and get them to combine with the broth, I peek at the schnitzel pan and frown. Taking a break from the sauce, I turn over my schnitzels to find the bottoms far darker than I wanted. I feel tears prick my eyes. This dinner is not turning out how I had hoped!
Just as I'm wondering if there's even a way to salvage any of the food, I hear a knock at the door. I hurry over and let Henry in, meeting his cheerful hello with a hoarse greeting and an embarrassed frown.
"What's wrong?" he asks, stepping in and looking around.
"I ruined dinner," I announce sadly.
He shrugs. "Happens to the best of us. What can I do to help?"
I lead him to the kitchen and show him my lumpy mushroom sauce, acrid-smelling asparagus, and nearly-burnt schnitzel.
"Wow. You're very ambitious. This is a lot for one person to handle on their own! I'm honestly impressed you did as well as you have. I couldn't make a smooth sauce without multi-tasking," he says.
I know he's trying to cheer me up, but it doesn't help. He seems to sense that his words didn't have the effect he was hoping.
"What do you want to do, Lacy Lou? I can help you try and salvage the meal. We can clean this up and go out instead, or pick something up to bring back. Tell me what will make you feel better." He looks at me earnestly, his deep blue eyes full of compassion. I worried that he wouldn't like me as much if I messed up this dinner, but I can see in his eyes that he still cares.
"I think we should clean this up and-"
My words are interrupted by the steady beep of the timer on the microwave.
"Oh! I forgot about my casserole!" I grab potholders and pull it from the oven. It looks. . . surprisingly good. I grab a spoon and sneak a quick taste, praying that the rice won't be crunchy. Somehow, the rice has cooked and the crab and shrimp casserole is actually really good.
"That looks good," Henry remarks, making me jump. I forgot he was standing right by me.
"It was supposed to be the side, but it looks like it just got elevated to main course," I answer lightly. I grab plates for us and scoop us healthy servings of the casserole, make sure all the burners on the oven are turned off, then lead Henry to the table.
We talk comfortably about our work days as we eat. I tell Henry about Jeff's jerk move to block Everett's article and my plans to counter him.
"Wow. I'm glad I'm not Jeff," he answers.
"So you think my plan will work?"
"Yeah. Also, I'm just really glad that I don't have to stoop to low measures like that just to get your attention," he adds, winking at me.
I laugh. "I doubt that's why he's doing this. He's the one who walked out and ignored me. I think he just can't accept the fact that I've found replacements for him and that I'm doing great without him."
"Replacements, huh?" Henry says suggestively. "Does that mean I'm not the only guy you're cooking for?" He tries to hold a serious expression, but his teasing smile breaks through.
"Oh stop. You're the only guy I'm dating. But Everett is the one who replaced Jeff at the restaurant."
"Fair enough." We move on and Henry tells me vaguely (the only way he can really ever talk about his work) of the new job he and his partner picked up.
"It will mean a lot of evening and night surveillance," he says with a frown. His frown soon eases. "But that just means you and I can spend mornings together, if you want."
I smile. "That sounds nice! It would probably be better for me to not have to interrupt my work too often."
He clicks his tongue and shakes his head in mock disappointment. "Such a workaholic, Lacy Lou."
"You're one to talk," I retort, gently elbowing him.
He places his hands over his heart. "Oh, cheap shot," he says, closing his eyes dramatically.
"And yours wasn't?"
He opens his eyes and sits up. "Of course not." He wears an innocent smile and I can't help but laugh at his very cheesy jokes. He's a tease, but I enjoy his funny, over-the-top personality.
"This casserole is delicious," he says, pushing his plate away after his third serving.
"I'm glad you like it! I'm just glad it came out right. I was supposed to add cooked rice, but I forgot to cook it, so I just added extra water and prayed that it would cook in the oven."
"I would never have guessed that you had any problems with it. I love it!"
"Thanks. I'm sorry the rest of dinner didn't work out." I frown, remembering the mess of inedible food and dirty dishes waiting in my kitchen.
"Hey, that happens. Maybe next time, I can help. I'm not great in the kitchen, but I can follow orders. I can stir really, really well. Like, I could probably be a professional stirrer." He winks. "And I would love spending time with you in the kitchen."
I smile a little shyly. I haven't really cooked with someone else since I left home. None of my college roommates were into cooking and Jeff always preferred to cook on his own.
"That would be really nice," I answer.
"Now let's get cleaning up." He claps his hands and stands, turning to my kitchen.
"Oh, you don't have to worry about that. I'll take care of it. This is your first night off for a while. Sit back and relax."
"Nope. I want to help. It will go much faster with an extra set of hands. While I may not be great at cooking, I can wash dishes like a pro! My first job was actually as a dish-washer at a small restaurant."
"I can handle it after you leave so we don't have to cut into your time off."
"Nah, I want to help. But if you'd rather watch, I can just do it all myself," he says, making a dash for the kitchen. I run after him and try to wrestle the sponge away, but he's bigger and stronger than I am and all I get for my efforts is a quick kiss on the lips.
"Now go decide what you want to do with the food. I've got the dishes under control," Henry says, gently pushing me away and turning to the sink. I watch him start the water and get going on the pile of dishes left from prepping the food. It feels nice to be together in the kitchen. Very homey and comfortable.
I could get used to this.