A/N: I didn't get any alerts when I posted a chapter last week and hardly any reviews, so check and see if you read Chapter 20 before reading this one. I remembered that the guys bought some weird looking foods at the grocery. Time for a taste test.
Taste Test
While they waited for the chicken to finish cooking, Leslie suggested trying some of new flavors and unusual items they'd bought at the grocery store.
"Let's see if you prefer organic to regular produce, which may have been sprayed with chemical insecticides and fertilizers. It's supposed to be washed off before it goes to market, but it's best to wash everything yourself."
She rinsed off a regular and an organic tomato. "Don't watch," she instructed. When he turned his back, she cut the tomatoes in wedges and set out two saucers. She took a couple of wedges for herself, but left the rest for Steve.
"Can you taste any difference?" she asked. She couldn't.
"They both taste fine," Steve said. "There's a little bit of a metallic taste to this one…" He gestured at the regular tomatoes. "But I don't mind it. I'm used to eating bruised produce that's past its prime. This fresh food is great!"
Leslie grinned at his exuberance. People these days complained about preservatives, frozen food, canned food, food that wasn't locally grown. If they spent a winter eating nothing but carrots and turnips, they might rethink their dogmatic stance. Steve was happy to eat food that wasn't spoiled.
"Here's some more salad stuff," Leslie said. She pulled out her two ugly vegetables, the avocado and the jicama.
Leslie cut around the circumference of the avocado, then twisted the two halves apart.
Steve was surprised to see creamy green flesh and a big brown pit inside the unappetizing dark pebbly skin.
Leslie got Steve to peel the dirty outer layer from the jicama to show the bright, crisp white flesh inside. Steve carefully sliced it into strips, then tasted one.
"It reminds me of a radish," he decided. "It's got a little bite."
The soft, mild-flavored avocado made a nice contrast. And they, and the tomatoes, were even better with a drizzle of ranch dressing.
"Why 'ranch' dressing?" Steve asked.
"I think it was developed, or at least popularized at a dude ranch. Hidden Valley Ranch is or was a real place, not just a brand," she said, showing Steve the label on the bottle.
"I like the taste," Steve said.
"It's the most popular salad dressing these days," Leslie said.
While they nibbled their vegetable platter, Leslie popped the top of a can of low sodium green beans.
"What's that?" Steve asked. Fascinated, he took the lid and poked at the pull ring.
"Oh, this is a pop-top can." She handed him the can of regular beans. "Tip up the ring to break the seal, then pull back to peel the lid off. Careful! Don't pull the ring off."
Steve followed the instructions very, very carefully. He grinned when the lid peeled back. "That's amazing. Are all cans like this?"
"No, we still have can openers. Even hand-crank can openers, as well as electric can openers. I've got to show you my waggle-tail electric can opener. It's so cute."
"These would have been great in the field," Steve said, still marveling as he swiveled the ring up and down. "We had cans with keys that you turned to peel a strip of can away but …"
Leslie nodded. She remembered those. "It took a lot of finger strength," she said.
"And sometimes they broke off. I remember Bucky taking an ax to a canned ham when the key only peeled off an inch of the can."
"The Howling Commandos were a dangerous bunch," Leslie teased.
Leslie heated up two bowls of green beans. The microwave beeped just as the timer went off for the first batch of chicken. Leslie checked to see the juices were clear, which they were. Steve gladly took out the dish of chicken pieces.
"Down boy. It's got to rest for 10 minutes or all the juice will run out and it will be dry."
Steve pretended to sulk. Leslie handed him the bowls of green beans, then went to turn up the oven temperature for the second chicken.
"These beans are definitely saltier than the others. Those taste kind of bland, if you ask me," he said.
"It won't be a problem for you," Leslie said. "But I usually get the lower sodium for myself." Then she smacked herself on the forehead. "I forgot the potatoes!"
Steve hurried to put the washed and poked potatoes into the microwave, pushing the Quick Min button twice like a pro.
"I'm terrible at getting everything ready at the same time," Leslie confessed.
"I'll never tell," Steve promised. When the microwave beeped, he flipped the potatoes over and zapped them again, as per Leslie's instructions.
"My microwave always seems to cook from the bottom. That's why I flip them," she explained.
Leslie put the second chicken in the oven and mixed the regular and low salt bowls of green beans. She put the beans back in the microwave to rewarm them, while Steve juggled the hot potatoes to the table. (Maybe microwaves don't heat the ceramic plate, but the hot potatoes do!)
"Aha! Everything's hot at the same time! Triumph!" Using a couple of potholders, Leslie brought the beans to the table and set the bowl beside the dish of chicken.
They served up their meals and Leslie had to snicker at the sight. She had one potato, a small pile of green beans and one chicken thigh. Steve had four potatoes, half a plate of green beans and a separate plate with most of the rest of the chicken.
Steve considered his heap of food, then deliberately forked a leg and a breast back to the serving dish.
"Eat all you want," Leslie said. "You worked hard today." She did not want him to feel bad about his appetite.
"I want to save some room for the second chicken, if that's OK. The orange smells delicious."
"Good plan," Leslie agreed. "I got the impression you liked orange when we were at the grocery store. That's why I used oranges on the chicken."
"An orange for Christmas was the height of luxury for me growing up," Steve reminisced.
"I hope you enjoy the chicken," Leslie said. "I think I'll fix an orange sauce for it. That's something I've read about but haven't tried." Steve deserved some pampering, she thought.
It didn't take long for Leslie to finish her modest meal. "You keep eating. I'm going to work on the sauce," she instructed.
She looked up a recipe that used ingredients she had on hand. Steve finished his food and came to help her zest and squeeze oranges. ("Always zest first. It's hard to zest a floppy peel.") She mixed in spices and let the juice reduce. ("That means the water evaporates and the juice becomes more like a syrup," she explained.) She watched it anxiously. If she let it go too long, it would get too thick. She didn't want an orange jam.
The second chicken finished cooking and Steve took it out to rest. He hummed in appreciation.
When Leslie thought the sauce was reduced enough, she took it off the stove and added a little butter. She thought it might be runnier than it ought to be, but Steve happily poured it over his orange chicken.
"Thanks, Leslie, this is swell," he said. "Aren't you going to have a piece?" He used tongs to hold out a chicken leg and waggled it at her.
Leslie succumbed to temptation and held out her plate. She added a spoonful of sauce. She smiled when she realized it really tasted good. A successful experiment!
"Want a little fruit for dessert?" Leslie teased, bringing out more strange looking produce.
"Sure," Steve said. "What's inside that one?" he asked, pointing at the fuzzy brown kiwi.
Leslie sliced it in half. Like the avocado, the unprepossessing exterior revealed a green interior, a brighter green with tiny black seeds. Leslie handed him a kiwi half and a spoon.
"Just scoop it out," she instructed.
It had a bright, astringent flavor unlike anything Steve had eaten. "It's kind of … spicy," Steve said. "I like it."
"Is there anything you don't like?" Leslie asked.
"Those volcano wings," Steve said instantly. "And raw onion. Onion is great when cooked, but I pick it off sandwiches."
"And out of salads," Leslie agreed. "One bite of raw onion and that's all I can taste for hours."
"Any more new things to sample?" Steve said. He knew there was, because she had something unfamiliar in her hand.
Her eyes twinkled. "This is your fruit, Cap. It's a starfruit."
It was a pale yellow oval with deep ridges.
"Why starfruit?" Steve asked.
Leslie winked, then sliced the fruit, keeping the pieces hidden. She spread them across a plate. "Tada!" The cross-sections were, indeed, star shaped. The skin was waxy, the flesh was like a grape and the flavor was like a mix of grape, apple and citrus. All Steve could think was that it tasted "fruity."
"Any more surprises?" Steve asked. "Because I'm actually starting to get full."
"Then my evil plan has worked." Leslie twisted an imaginary mustache. "Tell you what. We'll wash the dishes, then I'll give you a lesson on using the internet. We can start by looking up Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and then find out how punching bags are made."
"And tomorrow we have a helicopter ride," Steve reminded her.
"Sounds like fun!"
A/N: You might have to wait for the helicopter ride. I think I'll post a Reconstruction chapter next week.