Page 25 of Recipe for a Curse
Chapter 11
“I’ve never seen stuff made from scratch like this before,” Rio remarked as I whisked the custard on the stovetop for the tart. “Pudding comes in a box.”
“Yuck. You’ll never go back once you’ve tasted mine,” I promised him. “That stuff in a box is not even close to this real custard cream.” Normally I’d have made it a chocolate custard with melted chocolate folded in, but this was a delicate vanilla cream, with real vanilla bean. It would be light and decadent with fruit on top.
“I get lots of boxed stuff from the food bank,” Rio said quietly.
I instantly wanted to kick myself. “Sorry. My privilege is showing. I’ve been homeless. I should know better.”
“You were homeless?”
“Yeah. Folks kicked me out for being queer. Like somehow it was a surprise. I’m a very obvious queer, always have been. I’m the swishy kind of queer that insecure men try to warn the world about.” I waved my hand about.
“Queer,” Rio said, sounding amused. “I’ve always found that word funny.”
I paused and glanced at him, “Did you just make a pun? Oh my God, you did!”
His cheeks turned pink, but he laughed. “Sorry, not laughing at your misfortune.”
I shook my head. “No worries. It’s in the past. I mean it’s always a worry. If Zach hadn’t been so amazing when he took over the house I might be back there. But he pays us well. I have a little nest egg saved up just in case. Though I can honestly see myself working here forever. I just hope this pandemic ends soon so we can have more than a handful of people in the house at a time.”
“You guys did great over the holidays, keeping everyone safe while still having people in. I can’t remember the last time I had a holiday meal. And the food was fantastic.”
I could feel myself glow at his comment. A pure joy glow. Wow, it had been a while since I’d felt that sort of pride. “I worked really hard to make it diverse.”
“I tried everything,” Rio admitted. “Well, anything that wasn’t chocolate.”
“There were a lot of chocolate in the desserts. I’ll make sure to add different stuff to the dessert table next time. There’s more than just cookies and pie.”
“Cookies and pie are good. Though this tart thing smells amazing,” Rio said as he stood beside me.
“Whisk this for a moment while I prepare a cooling bowl.”
He blinked but took the whisk. His strokes weren’t as even or practiced as mine, but he’d keep it from burning just fine. I filled a bowl with ice, and then set another on top before putting the tart tin next to it, the crust already baked and ready for filling.
“This is a bit of magic,” I promised him as I took the whisk and turned off the stove before carefully taking the pot by the handle. “Watch.” I whisked as I slowly poured the filling into the iced bowl, and it began to thicken, looking creamier with each chilling pass. “Can you grab me a spatula?” I asked.
He glanced around and then pulled one from the container near the stove, handing it over.
“Thank you, kind sir,” I said flicking the whisk on the side of the bowl and handing that over before taking the spatula. The last part was a gentle fold, ensuring everything was evenly chilled, heat mostly gone and the thick creamy goodness ready for the shell.
“It is a bit of magic. This will have to go in the fridge?”
“This will have cooled it enough so I can put the fruit on, then put the whole thing in the fridge.”
Rio had done a good job cutting up a stack of fruit into fine slices and sprinkling them with lemon juice to keep them from browning. Mostly berries, we had a few kiwis, and enough strawberries, raspberries, and blackberries to make the tart an artfully delicious treat. I carefully layered the custard into the tart shell, scraping the bowl and smoothing the top. The tart itself sat on a cookie sheet with a layer of ice spread across it. Quick and easy. I had a lot of hacks I’d learned in culinary school. The tart that would have taken most places half a day to create and chill, would take less than a half an hour for me.
After I smoothed the top of the custard, I licked the spatula. “Oh my God, it’s so good. Try this,” I held the spatula out to Rio.
He hesitated a moment before taking it and trying a bit. His eyes widened.
“Good, right? I mean it will be even better cold and fully set up with the pop of the fruit and glaze, but yum…”
“I expected it to be sweeter, but this is perfect.” He took another long lick of the spatula. “Thicker than sweet cream, but not really vanilla pudding. Doesn’t have that weird aftertaste or super sweetness.”
I smiled at him, and began layering the fruit across the top. The chilling of the cream making it firm enough that the fruit wouldn’t sink. “Magic,” I told him.
“Indeed.” He reached out to touch my bottom lip, his thumb brushing across it and my pants suddenly tightened. His thumb came away with a touch of cream.