Today, as I walked the few blocks from the yoga studio to Lake Ridge, I thought about the first memory: our phone call.
Colin and I had been together for about six months at that point. Leo and I had conversations here and there, and I’d shared more with him than I expected to. He was easy to talk to, and we just sort of…got each other in a way I hadn’t expected. It was nice. Friendly.
At that point, I knew Leo somewhat well. Not well enough to call him, but I was a little desperate and a whole lot hungry.
A few weekends before, Colin and I had visited Celine, and we’d had an out-of-this-world sausage gnocchi in vodka sauce for dinner. It wasincredible.
So incredible that I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the creamy sauce, pan-fried gnocchi, or the smell of sausage, tomato sauce, and fresh basil.
I’d texted her asking if she could share the recipe with me. I knew whatever I cooked in my college apartment wouldn’t even compare—but I had to try. She texted me the ingredients and recipe, and that same day I went to the grocery store. I was still in my pajamas, my hair was a mess, and I was slightly hungover, but none of that mattered. I left the store with everything I needed.
It wasn’t until I was about halfway through the recipe that I realized Celine had sent me only part of what to do. My gnocchi, sausage, and onions were cooked—slightly burnt, but it was fine—but I was missing what to do with the sauce. I’d started it by adding tomato paste, garlic, and crushed red pepper, but I didn’t have the skill to just wing it.
Celine answered within moments of me calling. Papers shuffled on the other end of the line as she looked around for the second page.
“I must’ve misplaced it, Eliza. I’m so sorry. It’s Leo’s recipe, though. I’m sure if you gave him a call, he’d be able to help.”
Confused, I asked, “But didn’t you make it when Colin and I came up a few weekends ago?” I doubted Leo wanted a phone call from me, and I didn’t want to annoy him.
She let out a gentle laugh. “I cooked the gnocchi, but the sauce was all Leo. He’ll often leave different food with me—sauces, spices, ingredients—that I can freeze or store for a while.”
My heart squeezed at the thoughtful gesture.
“Okay, well, it’s not a problem. I’ll just, um, I’ll find a different?—”
“I texted you his number. Go on and give him a call. I don’t think he should be working tonight.”
This was where my hunger and desperation kicked in.
“Okay, yeah, I’ll call him. Thanks so much, Celine.”
“Anytime, hon. Good luck.”
After hanging up, I’d called Colin. Maybe he’d be able to call Leo for me and get the information I needed. Except I got his voice mail followed by a text.
Colin: Out with the guys. Can’t talk.
Okay, then.
I opened my text thread with Celine and tapped on Leo’s contact info.
The phone rang two times before his deep voice filled the line. “This is Leo.”
“Hey, it’s Eliza,” I said, only to be met with silence. I gnawed on my bottom lip. “Um, Colin’s girlfriend?” I offered.
“I know who you are, Eliza.”
“Well, you didn’t say anything!”
“I was waiting for you to say something first. You’re the one callingme.”
I parted my lips to speak, but the background noise on Leo’s side got louder: mumbled voices, plates clattering plates, faint music. Celine said he wasn’t working, but maybe she’d gotten it wrong. “You’re at work? I shouldn’t be bothering you.”
“Eliza,” he said sternly, and my stomach flipped, which I tried to ignore. “You’re not bothering me.” The background noise got quieter, and I heard a door shut. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine!” Apart from the fact that my kitchen was an absolute mess, and I was about to lose my goddamn mind over dinner. It looked like a tornado followed by a hurricane had blown through my apartment, and I dreaded cleaning it up—but I told myself it’d be worth it. “I was just on the phone with your mom, because I’m trying to make the sausage gnocchi, which she said is your recipe. She couldn’t find the instructions on how to finish the sauce.” I chewed on my bottom lip. “She also said I should call you, because you likely weren’t working.”
The words sounded so silly as I said them out loud. How would me trying to make this dish even compare to the way Leo made it? He was a trained chef!
