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He finished the dishes and leaned a hip against the counter, watching me combine ground turkey and Italian sausage with egg, breadcrumbs, and a little shredded Parmesan cheese.
“What’s that?”
“Meatballs. A healthier version. We’ll bake them instead of sautéing them. Once they’re added to the marinara, you won’t miss it. I’ll add a drizzle of good olive oil and some seasoning. You’ll get the richness of beef without the fat.”
“Cool. What can I do?”
“I’m still charging you the same, even if you help. More if you make a mess I have to clean up,” I said.
“Sounds fair.”
“The other dish I’m making for your refrigerator is pork chops and fried apples. Grab three Gala apples from the bin. Look at the stickers. I don’t want the Fujis.” Lucas opened the fridge.
“Get a paring knife to peel and chop them.” He reached toward my leather pouch. “Not mine, yours. Do you have a paring knife?”
“Oh, sorry. I think I do.” He pulled open a drawer on the island.
He was trying, and I was being rude. My mama would not be proud. I took a deep breath and chilled out.
“It’s okay. My knives are very sharp, and if you aren’t used to them, you could get a deep cut before you know it. Remember, I don’t have a car to take you to the ER, and I’m not driving your Mercedes while you bleed out.”
A curve pulled at the corner of his mouth before he bit his lower lip in concentration. He started in on the apple but struggled a bit with the knife that was likely dull.
“Give me that quick.”
“What?” He handed it to me. “Was I doing it wrong?”
“No.” I smiled. “A dull knife is almost as dangerous as a sharp one. I’ll give it a little love on the whetstone here.”
After a few moments, I handed the cleaned and sharpened knife back with another smile.
“Thanks,” he said. Wow, those dimples were really something set among the light scruff of his face.
I cleared my throat. “No problem. I’ll sharpen others as we go.”
He returned to his task, even biting the edge of his lip again.
I concentrated on chopping the fresh basil and oregano. “This spring, you should plant some herbs out on the patio. They do well in pots and are handy for cooking.”
“Mom grows everything out at the farm. I’ll keep a good stock in the fridge for you from the greenhouse.”
“That works.” I stirred the slowly simmering red sauce made with canned San Marzano tomatoes, fresh herbs, and garlic. I loved fresh produce, especially from a farmers’ market. But for red sauce, nothing beat canned San Marzano any time of the year. I added a dash of my homemade seasoning.
“What’s that?”
“Umami seasoning. Umami is a fifth taste bud in addition to salty, sweet, sour, and bitter. I blend dried fish, dried mushrooms, and a few other items from the Asian market and create a fine powder.” Lucas made a face.
“Don’t worry, you won’t notice it. I add a small amount, like a teaspoon, to an entire dish. It will fire those taste buds, telling your brain you are eating something hearty. You experience a richer flavor and get that satisfying feeling without the fat and calories. Trust me, it’s a game-changer.” The Asian markets in Seattle carried a lot of options for the savory mix that inspired the fusion dishes I created at Hill & Ocean. My blend was one interpretation. Reef was anamazingchef. He could come up with his own.
“If you say so.” He still looked skeptical. Most people did when I mentioned blended dried fish. “What else?”
“Grab a heavy skillet and start the heat on low. Then add a good amount of butter.”
“How much is a good amount again?”
Right. “Sorry, about half a stick.”
Lucas raised his eyebrows.
