Stir It Up Read Online Free PDF Page B

the camera down. “Anj, you have to smile. Look happy. Who’s going to want to watch a pissy-looking cook?”
    “I’m not pissy looking,” I snap. “I’m just waiting for you to say start.”
    “Okay then … action!”
    Trying hard not to roll my eyes, I stretch my mouth in what I hope will seem like a big, happy, not too fake smile.
    “Hi, I’m Anjali Krishnan, and I’m from RichmondHill, Queens — or as some people call it, Little Trinidad — here in New York City. I’m in eighth grade at the Forest Hills School. Cooking is my most favorite hobby. Today I’m going to make an old favorite with a new twist, Coconut Dark Chocolate Chip Cookies. The great thing about these cookies is that there’s something for every kid to do while making them, so no one has to be left out.”
    Linc gives me a thumbs-up sign from behind the camera. I reach toward the butter and drop it in the mixer. I pick up the brown sugar and add that, too.
    “Cut! Cut!” yells Linc, making me jump.
    “What? What is it?”
    “You have to tell us what you’re doing!” he says. “Think about all the Food Network chefs — they say
what
they’re doing while they’re doing it.”
    “Oh! Okay,” I say. “Good point. But you don’t have to yell. This isn’t a movie set.” I look down at the butter and sugar in the bowl and frown.
    “I don’t have any more butter and sugar,” I say. “What do I do?”
    Linc puts down the camera and considers this for a minute. “Well, how about I film you walking overto the mixer and saying something like ‘I already have the butter and sugar in the bowl to start the cookies.’ Oh, and say the amounts. They always say the amounts.”
    I nod and walk back toward the end of the counter.
    “And … action!” yells Linc, making me jump again.
    I walk toward the mixer, put my hand on the switch, and say, “I already have two sticks of softened, unsalted butter and three-quarters of a cup of brown sugar in the bowl.” I reach across to another bowl on the counter and begin to pour from that. “Now I’m adding three-quarters of a cup of white sugar. We’ll blend all of this on medium speed until light and fluffy — about four minutes.”
    Linc gives me the thumbs-up and again puts the camera down. “I’m going to do a close-up of the bowl, then start filming you in the last thirty seconds of mixing. No one wants to watch a mixing bowl churning away for four minutes.”
    I nod and step aside so he can get a good view into the mixer. For the next half an hour we keepfilming, with me adding ingredients and then pausing while they mix. Sometimes I flub the words and have to start again. I glance at the clock. Forty-five minutes have passed. We only have a little over another hour to get this done. With all this stopping and starting we’ll need every minute of it. I thought this whole thing would take only twenty minutes, the time it takes to mix up the cookie dough. I didn’t figure on how many times you’d have to do something to get it right on film.
    Finally, it’s time to spoon the dough onto cookie sheets that I’ve already prepared. After I put them in the oven, Linc plops down at the kitchen table while I clean up the mixing bowls and measuring spoons.
    “Are you sure you can edit all those pieces into a real video?” I say.
    “Yes, Anj, don’t worry. I’ll finish it up over the weekend and bring a disc to school on Monday. Then we’ll mail it at lunchtime, okay?”
    “Yeah, cool,” I say anxiously. “Thanks, Linc, I really appreciate it.”
    “No problem,” he says, smiling. “Let’s finish up.”
    “Okay, we just have to wait for the timer to go off,” I tell Linc.
    Once the digital display on the stove reaches ten, Linc focuses the camera on it while it counts down the seconds to zero. He motions over to me to take out the cookies. I place them on the counter to cool.
    “You’ll want to let the cookies cool for about five minutes before you take them off the