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“Okay,” he said.
“Then it’s butter in this one, some mozzarella cheese to make it nice and melty if people want to heat it up, and then we’ll add in a cup of that cream cheese when it’s ready.” She moved down to the next station and started talking about the pimento cheese that their shoppe had become famous for.
“So when you do these two recipes,” she said. “You’ll triple them both. That way, you’ll have sixteen containers of each to sell for a while. These last two, you’ll just do as normal, and we’ll end up with eight of each.”
“Okay,” he said, and he picked up a pen and made a note on the notebook she’d given him.Triple the first two recipes. Single the last two.“Got it.”
“Pimento is wonderful,” she said. “Lots of cheddar cheese.” She put a couple of heavy handfuls into the bowl. “Mayonnaise.” A few tablespoons of that went in, followed by the pimentos, and then, “Spices,” she said. “Garlic and onion powder. Salt and pepper.” She glanced down to the clothed cream cheese. “Then a cup of that. Three when you make it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
She continued with the bacon and cheddar spread, and finally the lemon-mustard-dill combination that actually had Spencer’s mouth watering.
“Okay,” she said, moving around him to the cream cheese. “This should be ready by now. You give it a squeeze.” She did, and a few more drops of liquid came out. “And one-fourth of this ball goes in each one.” She didn’t measure, and she got the job done as if she’d done it countless times before. Which, of course, she had.
“Then we mix,” she said. She picked up the hand-mixer and got blending, and Spencer watched as each spreadable cheese came to life.
He set out the containers, and Clarissa weighed them as she split the mixtures into fourths again. She showed him how to print the labels, and when they had sixteen containers of spreadable cheese in four different flavors sitting on the counter, Spencer had never felt such satisfaction.
Clarissa likewise beamed at them as if they were her children, and he suddenly understood why she liked cooking so much.
“Doable?” she asked, switching her gaze to his.
“Yes,” he said. “I can do this.”
“Okay, cowboy,” she drawled. “Your turn. Two gallons of milk this time. Make the cream cheese.” She backed up until she was out of the way, and Spencer drew in a deep breath.
His confidence took a dive, but he pulled it right back into place. He could do this. He could, and he would, even with Clarissa watching.
Please help me not to butcher her recipes, he thought as he set a clean pot on the stovetop and opened the fridge to get out the first half-gallon bottle of milk.
