To cook for others

Second text in english. This time one of my friend gave me the word « deception ». She clearly challenged me. We will see how i am going to work this out.

« Am I cursed or what ? » Erik was slightly annoyed. As soon as he precautiously drops a falafel in the frying pan, the little ball starts to disintegrate. The dough, he took time to prepare, was probably too wet. The clock was ticking. He had 1 hour before dinner, 1 hour before having the members of his household gathering around their large, wooden, kitchen table. It was more than enough to make few adjustments. The olive oil was bubbling. Slowly the snippets were turning golden brown. Fishing out all the pieces wasn’t an easy task. He even managed to get burned in the process. He didn’t really cared though. What’s matter was to get everything out of the pan. Crispy and fluffy. The hot tiny pieces started to melt on his palate. At first, he could recognize the hearty flavor of garlic, then the nice tickling of the pepper. Finally, the subtle tangs of parsley and cardamon show up. Erik softly smiles. « It has the exact same taste as those i had in Berlin. Far better than what i expected. »

Now, what could possibly he do with the rest of the paste ? His smile widened, as an idea came to his mind. He pulled a sack of chickpea flour out of the yellow cupboard (the place where he stores all the good stuffs). « It’s unorthodox, but that will do. » With confidence, he poured one cup of the flour on the dough and mixed it with a fork. Taking a spoon of the mixture he formed balls, which were placed on a tray. Usually, he would preheat the oven before using it. No time for it. He skipped this stage while turning the temperature right to 180°. Satisfied, he hung his « Toulousains do it better » apron to his refrigerator and started to whistle « singing in the rain ».

Someone was climbing the stairs leading to the flat. « Heavy and regular steps. It must be Martha, coming back from the gym. » She looked rather exhausted when she appeared. Her hair was tied is a messy bun. Her green short sleeve was awkwardly stuck to her chest. Erik fetched her a glass of fizzing water. She didn’t notice it. All her attention was somewhere else.  » What are those ? You promised us falafel. You sold a lemon to us again  » she said finger-pointing the first batch of falafel. Erik bit his tongue. He thought : « Of course Miss perfection was going to make a whole scene about it. I Should have hide it. » Of all his kins Martha was the pickiest. He hold the plate towards her. « Give it a go before complaining « , he replied with his most encouraging voice. His little sister stared at him, her eyes full of apprehension. She picked one sample and munched it as it was made out of needles.

Erik was ready for her comments. During one brief moment, he saw her pupils sparkling. « Is Ma home ? I have something to ask her » is the only thing she uttered. He shrugs. « Yeah. She is probably going through the last season of Peaky Blinders once more. » She headed to living room, ignoring her brother’s gaze. Left alone in the kitchen, Erik started to jiggle. His sibling has never been able to compliment him about his cuisine. Having her not criticizing one of his dish was already a huge reward. He swore. Martha was standing next to him. « Don’t forget the plate in the oven ! » she said with a cheeky grin.