Page 23 of Cooking Up a Christmas Storm (Highland Cookery School #2)
Pavel’s mother was on her hands and knees cutting back dying growth in the front beds when he set out for the castle. ‘I can do that.’
‘I’m sure you can.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Are you implying I can’t?’
‘Not at all.’ Pavel knew better than to risk suggesting any such thing.
‘Is it cooking today?’
Pavel nodded.
‘Good. Important skill if you’re going to pin down a busy working woman like the minister.’
‘Pin down?’
‘Tie up.’ She hesitated, suppressing a giggle. ‘If you know what I mean.’
‘Mum!’
‘I meant, it’s not like when I was growing up now, is it? You can’t expect your wife to do all the cooking.’
‘You didn’t do all the cooking.’ Pavel’s dad hadn’t been part of his life, but they’d lived with his grandfather who was a force of nature in the kitchen.
‘Your granddad did the three things his mother taught him and nothing else. And a right performance he made of it too.’
That was fair. Granddad’s days in the kitchen were marked by using every single pan and utensil in the place and then declaring that it wasn’t the chef’s job to wash up. ‘I miss his makowiec though.’
His mum smiled at the memories of poppyseed roll at Christmas. ‘Me too.’
Pavel almost swallowed back the thing he wanted to say next. ‘I’m sorry I never went to Poland with him now.’
His mum sighed. ‘Why didn’t you?’
Honestly, Pavel wasn’t sure. ‘It never seemed the right time. Things needed doing here.’
That was true enough, but his granddad had talked more and more about visiting Warsaw again after he got ill, and Pavel hadn’t fixed that for him.
He planned to. He’d got as far as looking at flights and thinking about how and when he might fit in a break from working, but it had never felt like the right time, and, in the end, he’d left it far too late.
Pavel fell into step with the two lads from Lochcarron as he crossed the Low Bridge. ‘I did chips for Becky and the bairn at the weekend,’ one of them enthused. ‘She said it was better than the chippy.’
Inside, the Strachans were already gathered, and Gemma was perched on a stool to one side of the room. She raised a hand in greeting and quickly dropped it again.
Today’s recipe, Bella announced, was lasagne, and they were going to end up with two things to take home.
A fully cooked lasagne ready to pop in the oven to reheat and a whole additional family portion of ragu that they could freeze and use at home for lasagne or bolognaise.
‘And for dessert,’ she continued, ‘sticky toffee pudding.’
As with all Bella’s meal plans this one seemed to be designed to drill a whole range of basic kitchen skills into them. Béchamel sauce for the lasagne involved making a roux. ‘We did that on the practice day,’ Pavel remembered.
‘Was that before or after you passed out?’
‘Before? I think.’
Sticky toffee pudding involved a cake batter, enhanced and enriched with dates, but, before that, they started on the lasagne by browning their mince, and then building up the flavour base for their ragus.
‘Onions. Garlic. Seasoning.’ Bella beamed.
‘These three things are the beginning of so many wonderful things in the kitchen. Sometimes a carrot and a stick of celery. Sometimes peppers. Sometimes tomato. These are the basics. An onion is such a simple, cheap ingredient, but don’t let that trick you into thinking you don’t need to take care of it. ’
As Pavel kept a hawklike eye on their slowly softening onion, Gemma crushed the garlic alongside him, and slid it into the pan.
‘How do we know when it’s done enough?’ she asked.
‘I have no idea.’
Bella leaned past him and peered into the pan. ‘You’re looking for a change of colour. Golden not blackened and a change of texture. You’ll feel the onions soften as well as you see it. Like I said, it needs a bit of care and attention.’
Pavel felt Gemma’s body tense alongside him as Bella moved away. ‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Seriously you were all happy a minute ago and now you’re all black cloudy.’
‘I’m not great with things that need care and attention.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true.’
She shook her head. ‘You’re very kind but you barely know me.’
A good ragu was, according to Bella, a long-term endeavour, so they layered up their lasagnes with her pre-made version, and their own béchamel sauce, before moving on to the sticky toffee pudding.
Jodie had closed down the chat with her cooking partner before.
Gemma would never have done that. Gemma was cool, relaxed, easy company. What would Gemma say?
‘So do you like sticky toffee pudding?’
Pavel laughed. ‘Who doesn’t like sticky toffee pudding?’
Fair point. ‘What’s your favourite dessert then?’
Now he sighed. ‘Actually I was thinking about that earlier. Makowiec.’
‘What?’
‘It’s Polish. Like a poppyseed cake. My granddad used to make it at Christmas and Easter.’
‘Wait!’ Jodie stopped him. ‘Can I film this for social media?’
Pavel shrugged.
‘You should let her. It’ll make you famous, lad,’ Old Man Strachan called across the kitchen.
‘Did you see his clip?’ Jodie asked.
Pavel nodded. ‘My mum showed me it. I didn’t even know she knew about Instagram.’
‘It went crazy on TikTok. Still is,’ Jodie added.
‘I’m not sure my mum’s ready for TikTok. Go on then. Turn me into a food influencer.’
Jodie watched Pavel through her phone. ‘So tell me about your favourite sweet?’
‘Well, it’s a cake really. Makowiec. Sort of a poppyseed roll that’s traditional in Poland. My granddad used to make it every Christmas and Easter and it always makes me think of him, and of where his family came from.’
She kept videoing just for a second at the end, focused in on Pavel’s face.
Then she tapped to stop. The moment he was remembering felt private somehow.
‘Thanks. That’s great. I didn’t realise you were Polish.
’ Jodie almost bit her own tongue off. Was that rude or just stupid?
‘I only meant, I mean I realised Pavel – it’s not a Scottish name, is it?
Not that you can’t be Scottish and called Pavel.
I just didn’t think about it. I mean, I’m sorry. ’
Pavel was barely suppressing a laugh. ‘My family’s Polish, but I was born here.
So was Mum actually. My great-granddad was a pilot in World War Two and afterwards he brought his wife over and they stayed.
She got pregnant in Poland so my granddad always said he was a proper Pole cos he started off over there.
And he used to go back to visit grandparents and cousins and stuff. Near Warsaw.’
‘What about you?’
Pavel shook his head. ‘Never been.’
‘Aren’t you interested? It’s part of your,’ she shrugged, ‘heritage?’
Did Pavel’s jaw tense a little before he answered? ‘I think I’ve got enough to concentrate on right here.’
Jodie waved her cooking buddy off at the end of the class and was instantly thinking about all the things she still needed to do.
The ballroom remained uncleared. Tickets were selling but they needed to sell more.
The Hogmanay menu still changed every time Bella thought about it.
She had a band, she reminded herself. One thing was done.
Darcy was already pouring the wine when Jodie came back into the kitchen. She handed Jodie a glass. ‘Come on. Enough work for today.’
She ought to refuse. She ought to insist that she still had things to do. She gratefully accepted the wine.
‘I saw Anna and Nina in the village today,’ Darcy told her. ‘They want a meeting with you about the Christmas light switch-on.’
Jodie tried to keep the panic off her face. ‘When is it?’
‘Depends which of them you ask.’
Bella filled her own glass with apple juice and pulled a face. ‘This is not going to be fun for nine months.’
‘Sorry, hon.’ Darcy sipped her own drink. ‘Do you want us to hold off in solidarity?’
‘Don’t be silly. Just try to pretend you’re not enjoying it too much.’
Darcy turned her attention back to Jodie. ‘I should warn you. I think expectations are quite high for the lights switch-on. They’re very excited about having a professional events planner.’
‘How high?’ Jodie’s panic level was rapidly rising.
‘They were talking about getting a special guest.’
‘Like someone to dress as Santa and give out sweets?’ Jodie asked.
‘Erm…’ Darcy didn’t meet her gaze. ‘Anna mentioned Elton John.’
Bella spluttered out her apple juice.
‘They think Elton John is going to come to Lowbridge to turn on the Christmas lights?’
‘It might be my fault,’ Darcy whispered down towards the floor.
‘How?’
‘Anna was being a bit, you know, how she can be about some professional coming in and taking over, so I might have talked you up a bit. Just to get her onside. And while doing that I might have said that you have lots of great contacts.’ She looked up.
‘I’m so sorry. I never said Elton John. I promise. ’
‘OK.’
‘You don’t know Elton John, do you?’
‘No.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
Jodie knew she ought to be furious but actually she let out a tiny giggle, and then another, and then it grew into a full, deep belly chuckle.
‘You’re not mad with me?’
Jodie shook her head. Obviously she was going to be a huge disappointment to Anna but in this specific instance it was, at least, not her fault. Of course she didn’t know Elton John. But that was OK, because the real Gemma didn’t know Elton John either. This wasn’t her screw-up.
‘So, putting Elton John to one side…’ she started.
‘Anna did say they’d be happy with Kylie,’ Darcy added.
‘Putting Elton and Kylie to one side, what’s the deal with the lights switch-on?’
Bella shrugged. ‘Don’t ask me. I’ve only been here since the summer.’
‘What?’ It was only November now, and yet Bella was so entirely at home here. ‘You seem like you’ve been here forever.’
‘Really?’ Bella smiled. ‘I don’t know. I never thought I was one for settling in one place but then I came here and…’ She checked on the lasagne in the oven. ‘Five more minutes. And, well I don’t know, it felt like home.’