For dessert they were making almond biscotti, which made Aubry’s mouth water and her stomach grumble. She decided to start that, while Tucker worked on the spaghetti sauce and meatballs. It was truly a team effort, and the smells were divine.
Fortunately, the cooking school also provided wine, an awesome bonus. She sipped wine and made her log roll for the biscotti, tucked it into the oven and turned to see if she could help Tucker, who seemed to be mastering his sauce. She grabbed a spoon and slid it into the pan for a taste.
“This is delicious,” she said.
He looked at her. “Of course it is.”
She laughed, but she admired his confidence. She also believed that confidence would be what it would take to become a decent cook. You had to believe you could do it. It was a lot like medicine. Not for sissies. You had to believe in yourself.
She could do this. They could do this.
She helped him with the meatballs, and after those were ready, they added them to the simmering sauce while she went back to finish up the biscotti.
Their instructor was fantastic, not hovering, but giving direction and staying nearby to give them pointers, advising them how to manage the cook times and which items to prep at what times. Since it was just the two of them, it gave Aubry peace of mind to know Patricia wasn’t going to let them screw this up.
When their stuffed mushrooms were finished, they actually had time to sit and savor their wine and appetizer together. She fed one to Tucker, feeling nervous as he chewed, then swallowed.
“This is really good. Here, try one.”
She tasted it, as surprised as he was that they had cooked something that had turned out so well.
“It is good.”
“You two are funny,” Patricia said, tasting one of their mushrooms.
“Why?”
“You seem surprised that you can cook.”
Aubry laughed. “We can make eggs and bacon. That’s about it.”
“Don’t forget we can also do toast,” Tucker added.
“Right,” Aubry said. “Toast.”
“Buy some cookbooks and start experimenting,” Patricia said. “You might surprise yourselves with all the dishes you can make.”
Since her biscotti was done, and it smelled amazing, Aubry set a pot filled with water on to boil, then filled it with the spaghetti noodles. It wasn’t long before the main course was ready, homemade noodles and meatballs covered with sauce.
“I’m going to be honest with you here,” she said to Tucker.
“Honest about what?”
“I’ve never been so nervous about anything in my entire life.”
He gave her a quick kiss, then raised his fork to hers. “Here’s to testing our culinary prowess.”
They both tasted at the same time.
“This doesn’t suck,” he said.
The noodles were cooked well, and the meatballs were flavorful. The sauce was great, too. They might not be experts and this dish certainly wasn’t restaurant quality, but for a first effort, Tucker was right. It didn’t suck.
“We might actually be able to handle this cooking thing,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“Or maybe it’s just the wine talking.”
Patricia came by and filled a small plate with their main course and took a taste.
“It’s not the wine talking. You both did good.”
Aubry felt like she’d just aced her MCATs all over again. “Yes!” She high-fived Tucker.
“Now enjoy your dinner,” Patricia said. “And the wine.”
“Thanks,” Tucker said. “We will.”
Aubry wasn’t a foodie. She enjoyed eating, but most of the time she was at work and food was just whatever she could grab to keep from starving. Tonight, though, she savored every bite, wishing she could box it up, take it home and keep it forever.
She’d never been a cook. She’d spent all her time at the hospital, studying, or, before that, in school, so cooking had never been something she’d mastered. Now, though, she felt like it was a challenge she could devote more time to.
“I’m going to order some cookbooks and start fixing meals for us to eat,” she said.
“That’ll require gadgets,” Tucker said, sliding another piece of meatball into his mouth.
“You mean like pots and pans? I have some of those.”
“This homemade pasta is good. I’d like to work on that again. And this sauce is pretty damn good, too.”
She took a sip of her wine and nodded. “The sauce is incredible. The fresh herbs really made a difference. I wish I had a house with a big yard so I could have an herb garden.”
He laid his fork down and picked up his glass of wine to take a sip. “What’s stopping you from buying a house?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not something I’ve ever thought about doing. It’s just me, and I don’t really need the space. The condo has always been adequate for my needs.”
“Except you can’t grow a garden in those tiny backyards that come with a condo.”
“So true. What about you?”
“Same thing. Just me, and I lease the condo in case I get traded. In my business, unless you know you’re going to be with one team for the long haul, you don’t set down roots.”
“Good point.” And just the thought of Tucker being traded caused an ache in her stomach. She was enjoying her time with him.
Maybe too much?