“Yes, another ancient city with a rich history.”
I only nod because I really don’t know much about it, outside of the food. I had a singular purpose for visiting.
Turbulence bumps us in our seats, and Knox’s knuckles turn white gripping the armrests.
I raise a brow but he doesn’t look at me, so I scoot over into the middle seat and place a hand on his. He’s clearly in distress and I’m not completely unfeeling.
He offers a hint of a smile but doesn’t look up.
When the bumpy air shifts the plane again, he grabs my forearm. His hand is tight around my arm and his entire body is tense. I’m no fan of turbulence either, but I don’t usually worry about it too much. Knox’s reaction has me looking around at the flight attendant to ensure there’s no emergency. I spot one sitting in his flight seat, and he smiles at me with a slight nod.
I turn back to Knox, and he clears his throat and lets go of my arm. “Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” I look at him for a moment, but he doesn’t offer anything further. I’m super curious why he’s so frightened of flying, but it doesn’t look like I’m going to find out today. When I start to move back to my seat, he speaks again, offering me an earbud. “Hey, listen to this. It’s one of my favorites.” We share the earbuds, and when he presses play and bobs his head offbeat to the music, I can’t help but smile. It’s endearing considering he’s so entirely perfect at everything, but doesn’t have rhythm to save his life.
“Yeah, it’s good.” I hand him back the borrowed earbud, and begin to move again.
“You can stay for a while if you want. Can I interest you in some ancient history?” His eyes are pleading with me even though he’s slouched in his seat, presenting a relaxed attitude.
“Sure. Why not? Tell me about Italy.”
We spend the flight sharing snippets of conversation here and there about music and history, and I remain in the middle seat. There’s no more rockiness, but as the plane makes its descent, he grabs the armrests again, sweat popping out on his brow. Knox is bold and confident. I’m not certain I’ve seen him so vulnerable before since he’s been on this airplane.
I lean into him until we land safely, offering him whatever comfort I can.
When we arrive at the gate, he offers a tense, “Thanks.” His ears pink.
After gathering my belongings, I trail Knox off the plane. I make an effort to hang back and let him go on, but he turns around, face perfectly composed.
“What, Knox?”
The light in his eyes dim a bit, but otherwise his expression doesn’t change.
“Just checking to see if you have a ride.”
I relax a little but pick up my pace. “I do, but thanks.” I don’t, but I intend to get a ride share.
He strolls alongside me but doesn’t say anything else until we walk outside, and he heads to the parking lot shuttle. “See you.”
I don’t bother responding to his retreating back.
Dutch Cold Brew Coffee and Stroopwafel
For the coffee:
3-1/2 ounces light-roast single-source coffee
4 cups water
Ice
Using a mortar and pestle, grind the coffee coarsely. Using a Dutch cold brew coffee dripper, wet the filter paper and pour the ground coffee on top. Wet a fitted paper filter and place on top of the grounds. Mix water with ice then pour the cold water over ground coffee. Adjust the drip speed to 30-45 drips per minute. Allow to drip 3-4 hours. Can serve cold, but heat to pair with stroopwafel.
Yield: 4 servings
For the Stroopwafel:
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup + 2 tbsp butter, melted
1/4 cup + 2 tbsp white sugar
1 (.25 ounce) envelope active dry yeast
3 tbsp warm milk
1/2 egg
3/4 cup molasses
2/3 cup packed brown sugar
2 tbsp and 2 tsp butter
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
In a large mixing bowl, combine flour, sugar, yeast, butter, milk and egg. Stir until the dough becomes soft and smooth. Turn the dough out onto a floured surface and knead by hand for a few minutes. Set aside to rise for 45 minutes. In a saucepan over medium heat, heat the molasses, brown sugar, butter, and cinnamon. Stir to blend, and set aside. Preheat a pizzelle iron. Knead the dough briefly, and divide into balls the size of the pizzelle iron pattern. Press the balls in the preheated iron, and cook until the iron stops releasing steam, or until the waffles are golden brown. Carefully remove the waffles with a spatula, and split in half horizontally while they are still warm. Spread filling inside, and put the halves back together.
Yield: 6 servings
CHAPTER NINE
Croque monsieur.
As with every Friday, Sue is at my apartment early in the morning. There’s no need today, but she comes anyway. Since she’s been here all week, she’s more informed than I am. I’m exhausted but offered to take over today since she’s been working for me all week. She wanted the hours.
This morning I make Migas tacos, still in my pajamas.
Sue’s in her work gear, a baggy pair of cotton pants. They’re striped white and gold to go with her white chef’s jacket. Mama likes the white coats. She’d prefer black pants but has been flexible the last few months.
I sit across from her with my tacos, and wait. Clearly there’s something on her mind if she still wanted to come by.
She takes a sip of her drink. “You know how much I love working here.”
Uh oh. No conversation starting that way is going to be good. “What’s wrong, Sue?”
“This week has been great. It felt like running my own kitchen, even if Hannah met every decision with a comment.”
That certainly sounds familiar. I smile and nod in encouragement. I don’t need to be an oracle to know where this is going.
“You know I appreciate you and everything you’ve done to help, but I’ve been piecing together a living. Two days here, a
