every month, Sadie.” Mel wore an apron emblazoned with the logo of her upscale catering company, Trifles. “Relax. We’ll have fun.”
“You’re only saying that because you think Keegan Fletcher is hot.”
“I do not.”
“Then I’ll help him and his son tonight.”
“Oh no you won’t.”
“My point exactly.”
Sadie glanced at the clock. In fifteen minutes, twenty-two dads and sons would fill the church’s kitchen, ready for a third cooking lesson.
“This will be a unique way for the dads to bond with their sons, Sadie.”
An echo of the director’s voice persuading her to teach the class broke through her concentration. Weeks ago he’d stood there, shaking her hand and nodding up and down like a bobblehead doll, and Sadie found herself bobbling a yes back.
“I’m a personal chef. When you and I graduated from the Broadmoor’s culinary apprenticeship, I never imagined teaching a bunch of guys how to cook.”
“The classes have been an absolute hit, Sadie. Didn’t you tell me they already asked you to teach it again?”
“Well, the one thing I know is that men like bacon. And they wanted the dads and sons to bond during the classes, so it was easy to come up with Bonding with Bacon.”
“You’ve already done the hard work and made a lesson plan. You can just use it again.” Mel pulled her black hair into a short ponytail. “Week one: the basics of knife sharpening and an appetizer of Man Candy.”
“Those guys couldn’t get enough of maple syrup caramelized over thick cut bacon. And since I sharpened theknives myself, no one ended up in the emergency room.” Sadie set out several large containers of gel sanitizer. “They weren’t too happy the next week when I mentioned we were making a wedge salad with bacon—until I showed them all the extra bacon I’d brought along so they would have enough to snack on.”
“That was a bit of brilliance—bacon and more bacon.” At the sound of the doors swinging open and boyish laughter intermingling with the rumble of men’s voices, Mel snapped her fingers. “And now it’s time to handle the motley crew . . . I mean class, one more month.”
Sadie positioned herself at the front of the kitchen, knowing Mel would finish the prep. “All right, guys, remember to put on your aprons and don’t forget to wash your hands with soap and water and then use the sanitizer. Then choose a work station.”
Toby, an eleven-year-old with Down syndrome, ran over and engulfed her in a hug. “Hey, Miss Sadie.”
“Hey, Toby.”
“What are we making tonight?”
“I hope you’re hungry. Tonight we’re making 50-50 burgers and sweet potato fries.”
Toby tightened his arms around her again, his grin lopsided, his brown eyes shining behind his glasses. “My favorite.”
Sadie exchanged smiles with Toby’s father, a tall, lean man, whose hair was the same sandy color as his son’s. Everything they’d made was Toby’s favorite. “Great. Don’t forget to wash your hands.”
There was no such thing as making too much food whenit came to this class. Leftovers were rare. Tonight her plan was to demonstrate the proper technique for cutting julienne fries and forming a hamburger patty. Then she’d cook the sweet potato fries while Mel assisted the dads and sons in prepping and cooking their hamburgers.
Justin Boyle, one of the several single dads in the class, interrupted her as she piled scrubbed sweet potatoes on the counter. “I was wondering if you could recommend a good basic cookbook? These classes have inspired me to be a bit more creative. Branch out beyond chicken nuggets and hot dogs.”
“Glad to hear that.” Sadie laid her knives on the counter. “I’d be glad to give you some suggestions.”
“Great.” Justin cleared his throat. “Maybe . . . maybe we could meet for coffee at The Tattered Cover and browse the cookbook section?”
Sadie bit her lip, warmth heating her face. “Maybe we could.”
They were interrupted by
“You’re only saying that because you think Keegan Fletcher is hot.”
“I do not.”
“Then I’ll help him and his son tonight.”
“Oh no you won’t.”
“My point exactly.”
Sadie glanced at the clock. In fifteen minutes, twenty-two dads and sons would fill the church’s kitchen, ready for a third cooking lesson.
“This will be a unique way for the dads to bond with their sons, Sadie.”
An echo of the director’s voice persuading her to teach the class broke through her concentration. Weeks ago he’d stood there, shaking her hand and nodding up and down like a bobblehead doll, and Sadie found herself bobbling a yes back.
“I’m a personal chef. When you and I graduated from the Broadmoor’s culinary apprenticeship, I never imagined teaching a bunch of guys how to cook.”
“The classes have been an absolute hit, Sadie. Didn’t you tell me they already asked you to teach it again?”
“Well, the one thing I know is that men like bacon. And they wanted the dads and sons to bond during the classes, so it was easy to come up with Bonding with Bacon.”
“You’ve already done the hard work and made a lesson plan. You can just use it again.” Mel pulled her black hair into a short ponytail. “Week one: the basics of knife sharpening and an appetizer of Man Candy.”
“Those guys couldn’t get enough of maple syrup caramelized over thick cut bacon. And since I sharpened theknives myself, no one ended up in the emergency room.” Sadie set out several large containers of gel sanitizer. “They weren’t too happy the next week when I mentioned we were making a wedge salad with bacon—until I showed them all the extra bacon I’d brought along so they would have enough to snack on.”
“That was a bit of brilliance—bacon and more bacon.” At the sound of the doors swinging open and boyish laughter intermingling with the rumble of men’s voices, Mel snapped her fingers. “And now it’s time to handle the motley crew . . . I mean class, one more month.”
Sadie positioned herself at the front of the kitchen, knowing Mel would finish the prep. “All right, guys, remember to put on your aprons and don’t forget to wash your hands with soap and water and then use the sanitizer. Then choose a work station.”
Toby, an eleven-year-old with Down syndrome, ran over and engulfed her in a hug. “Hey, Miss Sadie.”
“Hey, Toby.”
“What are we making tonight?”
“I hope you’re hungry. Tonight we’re making 50-50 burgers and sweet potato fries.”
Toby tightened his arms around her again, his grin lopsided, his brown eyes shining behind his glasses. “My favorite.”
Sadie exchanged smiles with Toby’s father, a tall, lean man, whose hair was the same sandy color as his son’s. Everything they’d made was Toby’s favorite. “Great. Don’t forget to wash your hands.”
There was no such thing as making too much food whenit came to this class. Leftovers were rare. Tonight her plan was to demonstrate the proper technique for cutting julienne fries and forming a hamburger patty. Then she’d cook the sweet potato fries while Mel assisted the dads and sons in prepping and cooking their hamburgers.
Justin Boyle, one of the several single dads in the class, interrupted her as she piled scrubbed sweet potatoes on the counter. “I was wondering if you could recommend a good basic cookbook? These classes have inspired me to be a bit more creative. Branch out beyond chicken nuggets and hot dogs.”
“Glad to hear that.” Sadie laid her knives on the counter. “I’d be glad to give you some suggestions.”
“Great.” Justin cleared his throat. “Maybe . . . maybe we could meet for coffee at The Tattered Cover and browse the cookbook section?”
Sadie bit her lip, warmth heating her face. “Maybe we could.”
They were interrupted by
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