She Just Knew He Could Do It!

Going off to work each day for some people is a chore at best, a hated drudgery at worst. It’s something they don’t want to do, but must, if the bills are to be paid. Debbie, on the other hand, never thought of work as anything less than delightful. She was a stay-at-home housewife and mom for years and had often worked from home doing things she loved to do such as writing, speaking, bookkeeping, sewing, and baking. If a person can have five first-loves, she certainly did. Yet, in the back of her mind, there was always a desire for two more pieces of life that she had not yet experienced. One would be to run a bed and breakfast in a lovely old home, and the other would be to work in a big commercial kitchen.

As Providence would have it, Debbie was hired as the cashier for a small cafe. The chef who hired her made the kitchen a positive and learning environment. He never seemed to mind using a moment of his time to answer her ever-flowing questions. He would laugh and say, “An inquisitive mind…” but really didn’t seem to finish the phrase. Debbie asked questions about everything from the purpose and useability of the pans to how to get grease out of the dish towels.

The chef and the cashier had become friends. They learned about the other’s families, likes and dislikes in foods, and to a small extent, hopes and dreams each one had. The chef seemed similar in some ways to all three of the cashier’s sons combined into one human being, yet still being uniquely himself in so many more ways. Likewise, Debbie seemed to remind the chef of one of the grandmas at a senior care center he worked in whose company he much enjoyed.

Both the chef and the cashier had a certain fondness toward fermented things, including beverages. His preference was of the alcoholic varieties and hers was kombucha and pickle juice, something they both had fun teasing the other about. Cheeses, and sourdough-started breads were also on the list of fermented likes.

Debbie loved to watch the chef work. The precision with which he cut vegetables was amazing, the way he built a sandwich, burger, or wrap was such a lovely piece of artwork that it looked like it was made for a king, and his manners in dealing with the clients was the epitome of hospitality. Everything the chef touched in the kitchen turned to deliciousness. On the other hand, the chef had to walk away when Debbie grabbed a knife. He was certain she was going to do some damage to fingers and who knows what else. He tried to teach her better, and she tried to learn but never quite conquered the whole knife thing. She assured him she never cut her fingers or anything else but the scene was a bit more than what he could handle. She mostly stayed at the cash register.

One day, Debbie asked the chef if he kept a journal of sorts of his creations in the kitchen, with both recipes and pictures. She had started a book of quotes for her husband and everything “quotable” that their children could think of went into the quote book. Her husband really liked having his own quote book, and would still say to the grown children, “You can quote me on that!” which they did and continue to do. They run to the bookshelf where the quote book is parked and write the newest little nugget of wisdom or humor from the dad. The little book has become a family heirloom of one-liners that Dad said over twenty-plus years. With that thought in mind, Debbie wondered if the chef kept track of all the wonderful things he does in the kitchen. His answer didn’t surprise her too much, although she hoped it was different. He said, “No. I probably should do something like that.” She knew his creations were worthy of being written down. The chef’s birthday was coming up so the hunt was on for the perfect book for him.

Every Saturday, Debbie went to the far east side of the valley where they lived to buy fresh milk from a farmer. There was an art supply store en route on the milk run and she thought that would be the perfect place to look for a book for the chef for his birthday. She scoured every shelf trying to find the perfect one and decided that the little black one that was bound on the short side of a rectangular book had to be the one. The whole hour home, she imagined the mysteries of cooking secrets he had perfected that would go into the little black book. She brought it home only to discover when she began to wrap it, a small slit in the binding as if someone had opened the case of the books with a box knife and hurt the binding with an ever so small slit, but now it wouldn’t do for a present. So she went to another art supply store on her side of town and found a bigger book, still black but about twice the size of the first one. “This will contain even more wonderful mysteries,” she thought. She calligraphied his name and a verse on the fly page, sewed a little slip cover for it so it wouldn’t get damaged sitting on a shelf or desk or wherever he may decide to keep it, wrapped it up and handed it to the chef for his birthday.

Now the chef had been working on perfecting his pizza crust recipe at home in his spare time. He wanted just the right texture, the perfect blend of flavors, and to-die-for overall appearance and taste. He would give a progress report every so often and one day a couple of months after his birthday, the cashier ran across a bread making contest. She gave the information to the chef and encouraged him to enter something in it. He commented that a write-up in that magazine would be pretty cool. He was referring to part of the prize package which would be an appearance in a national cooking magazine, to the extent of a full two-page spread.

Debbie asked the chef once if he had worked on the contest entry, to which he replied, “No. Haven’t had the time lately.” “But I sure would love to see you win it,” she tried. Nothing more was said until a few months later when she got to work and was greeted by a beaming chef with a smile that was bigger than any she had ever seen. On his desk was the black book she gave him and something sticking out of it. He handed it to the cashier and said, “Here. Open it.”

There it was. A letter from the cooking contest congratulating him for winning the top prize of $20,000.00, a write-up in the distinguished cooking magazine, along with the other appliances and gadgets, and underneath it on the first page of the book...the mystery was unlocked and written down...it was the only recipe in it...the much sought-after perfect pizza recipe with pictures and complete how-to instructions to make the most amazing pizza ever! He did it!! She just knew he could win, and he did it!!