Page 30 of Babydaddy To Go

The next group is doing okay, but the one after is making a mess.

“Joey, what’s going on here?”

He lifts his hands out of the eggy dough.

“I’m kneading like you taught us.”

“Your technique is fine,” I tell him truthfully. “The problem is, you used too many eggs. How many did you put in the dough?”

“Five,” Joey admits “I put in the three from the recipe but it looked too dry. I added another egg, but that didn’t help, so I added one more.”

“Class!” I shout loud enough for everyone to hear me. “Please, please focus on your recipes. It’s important to learn how to follow directions before you can start breaking them.”

Cassie and Joey look equally embarrassed. I didn’t want to do it that way, but I can’t have all my students screwing up like this. I’d like at least one of them to make an edible meal for me to taste later this afternoon.

Finally, I arrive at Samantha and Alyssa’s kitchenette. Samantha’s dough is too sticky, so I tell her to add more flour. She looks genuinely surprised that I’m telling her she’s not perfect. I probably shouldn’t have laid it on so thick yesterday. She already doesn’t seem like the kind of person who takes criticism well and I praised her endlessly on her first day. Samantha probably thinks she’s the best chef in the class when that’s the farthest thing from being true.

Alyssa is kneading her dough like it broke her heart. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s pretending that ball of eggs and flour is my head.

“Ease up,” I say too loudly. “You’re going to end up with a tough dough. Is that what you want?”

She doesn’t respond which makes me angry.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, chef! Are you trying to make a tough dough?”

“No,” she answers meekly.

“Then knead like I demonstrated at the beginning of class! You should start over at this point. You’ve already ruined this batch.”

I grab for the trash can and try to toss her stiff hunk of uncooked bread into the trash. Alyssa stops me with a small hand on my bicep.

“Don’t you dare,” she says quietly. The words are strong but there’s a telling waver in her voice. I don’t imagine she stands up to people often.

“I already told you, this batch is destroyed. It will never make a delicious pasta. Even after boiled, it’ll taste stale and stiff.”

“Then that’s how it’ll be! I don’t think you’re right, though. I think it’ll be fine.”

I stand closer so she has to crane her neck to meet my eyes. “Who is the instructor here?”

“You are.”

“Then why are you disobeying me? I’m telling you that you screwed up your dough. You should have followed the instructions but you didn’t. Now throw it away and start again!”

I see the moment Alyssa snaps. It’s written all over her face, but especially obvious in the way her eyes cloud over. She’s giving up.

The dough thuds into the empty trash bin. “Happy?” she asks.

She unbuttons her white chef’s coat and throws it on the counter. Standing with her hands on her hips in just a white undershirt, she struggles to maintain eye contact.

“I quit,” she announces. The tears start to spill from her eyes before she has the chance to turn and run.

A few students stare after her in complete shock. They’ve probably never seen a student quit before, and definitely not so dramatically.

I need to find Alyssa and apologize. I was too harsh on her. I thought she was nearing her breaking point, not at it. I’m sure what happened this morning didn’t help matters much.

“Class, you’re dismissed for the rest of the day. Please clean your stations and pack up your dough. Leave it in the refrigerator. We’ll finish this lesson tomorrow.”

Samantha scoffs. “You’re cancelling class because that loser couldn’t take the heat? She needs to learn that in the kitchen, you get yelled at. Don’t punish the rest of us because she’s an idiot.”