Page 69 of Cakes for the Grump

I hesitate since it’s not my business, but he’s also the one who has brought the topic up. “Why?”

“My father loved making people feel like they were below him. Having help gave him easy targets. And—I wasn’t pleasant back then, either.”

“Do you regret that?”

He looks sharply away, but I hear his answer.

“At least you feel bad…”

“It doesn’t matter.” He has the voice of a man already condemned. His chin drops down. “Some things can’t get erased. They shouldn’t be.”

To this, I have no answer because he is right. Actions matter, and they might eventually be re-contextualized and shifted by other actions, but that’s not erasure.

A conflicting measure of curiosity and wariness enters me. Knowing his family’s reputation, unpleasant behavior is a large umbrella term, though Idon’t believe Luke is bringing up usual teenage shittery when he speaks of his past. It’s more serious than that, I can tell.

Is it much worse than being the callous CEO he is today?

For a split second, I’m back in the kitchen with Mr. Duncan. He is asking me if I think Luke is a good person.

The man currently sharing the kitchen actually doesn’t sound like he would defend himself. And from what I’ve gathered from our past conversations, he did not like his childhood. The food. The expectations.

“What you do now, that matters,” I say finally.

“Hm.”

That’s not an answer to my question, but a reaction to the conversation. It’s thick, new, too personal to continue. He is telling me he has regrets, but I still can’t help but think of how he was in his office. How ruthlessly he sat, making commands as the CEO overlord.

But here he is, taking time out of all his responsibilities, slowly cracking eggs for me. How do I match the two? The one in the boardroom to the one in the kitchen? He walks over, holding up a bowl of cracked eggs.

I peek down at it. “You missed two little shell pieces. Below average.”

“Generous of you to rate me.”

“I’d be even more generous if you started handing me the spices I need.”

“Howeverwill you come down from this power high?” asks Luke, sounding like his usual pompous self, if not also tempered with an undercurrent of relief. The moment of sharing past trauma has passed. Whatever caused it to happen, we are safe again.

“It’s your fault you’ve created a monster,” I say. “Tomorrow you’re makingmea smoothie.”

He laughs as lowly as one can.

As the tarka mixture simmers, I use a fork to smash the tomatoes and onions together on the stove. The new smells wafting around are wonderful and remind me of the food stall, Pav Bhaji Delights in Mumbai. How many times have I watched the owner, Rohan Nindu, make his spicy scrambled egg bhurji on a giant griddle, fifty eggs at a time? I remember it so clearly. The humid heat swamped the waiting crowd, making them even more impatient to eat, but Rohan’s precision never wavered in the face of their eagerness. He cracked eggs with one hand, diced hundreds of onions, and chopped tomatoes in the air with a long blade so they fell into pieces beforehitting the hot flat plate like petals magicked apart. Despite the volume of everything he added, not one piece of food fell off the side.

It was theater. Showmanship.

Watched by young teens marking their turf in boisterous huddles, workers living for their lunchtimes, and old timers who practically owned the streets.

All the nooks and corners of the city breathed into Rohan’s dish, imbuing it with the kind of character hard to duplicate in a home kitchen. How many times have I made this recipe wishing I could concentrate Mumbai City as a flavor under my own hand and?—

It strikes like a bolt.

Concentrate!

“That’s it! I can condense this dish into another form,” I exclaim. ”What if I combine something like an Italian frittata with an Indian-flavored egg bhurji? These ingredients are staples in most kitchens, and affordable, and a frittata is a forgiving dish most customers can make in under forty minutes. Just that form can concentrate all these amazing flavors, and it’s presented with a twist!”

I see it so clearly in my mind. My fusion dish.

Innovativeandpractical.