Page 103 of Worth the Trip

“Malcolm would say you contain multitudes.”

I stopped.

She looked back.

“How you know Malcolm said that?”

“You told me.”

“Damn.”

“I listen.”

I smiled. “I noticed.”

She tugged me through the doors.

The production kitchen was all stainless steel, copper fixtures, freezers, mixers, cooling racks, and organized movement. One wall held laminated recipe cards in handwriting that changed from card to card.

“This is where the magic happens.”

I looked around. “Magic is what people call work they didn’t witness.”

Her eyes came to mine.

“Okay, that one was good.”

“I know.”

“You could practice humility.”

“I do. Selectively.”

She laughed and led me toward the recipes.

“Nana wrote the originals. Her measurements were terrible. Everything was a pinch, a little bit, or enough until your spirit said stop.”

“Ancestral precision.”

“Culinary chaos.”

“Fed everybody, didn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Method defensible.”

She shook her head. “Nyla and I spent months translating them into actual measurements. We’d change one thing, taste it, take notes, then do it again.”

“Which one of y’all kept insisting it wasn’t right?”

“Me.”

“Obviously.”

Her head turned. “Obviously?”

“You don’t leave something alone when you know it can be better.”