Chapter 2 – Hut Sweet Hut
It is almost dinnertime as John dashes quickly out of the clinic.
The days are getting shorter and dusk has started to fall by the time that he crosses the dusty street and enters the dilapidated building where their apartment is located. He makes his way up the creaking wooden stairs and opens the door to their home.
The fragrant smell of cooking greets him as enters the room. He takes off his jacket, washes his hands in their modest bathroom, and walks over to the stove where Kem is standing.
Hey," he says as he grabs her petite waist and kisses the side of neck. "It smells good." He quickly dips a finger into the simmering sauce and puts the finger in his mouth. "Umm…tastes good too."
She gives him a wry smile and then starts to shake her head back and forth slowly.
"What?" he asks as he gives her one of his boyish grins paired with an innocent shrug of his shoulders.
"I've always known that one of the reasons why you moved in here so quickly after we first started dating was for the cooking."
No, not at all", he says in what he hopes is a believable tone, but he fails miserably and they both share a laugh. After all, it was partially the reason why had moved in so quickly.
Kem was an amazing cook. Her mother believed, like many French people, that eating was not just something that involved shoveling food into one's mouth, rather it was an experience that should tantalize and satisfy all of the senses.
Fabienne had learned to prepare sauces, vegetables, and meats with the skills of a Michelin-rated chef and had passed those techniques on to her daughter.
Even though Kem was not in France or a western country where the ingredients found in French cooking were readily available, she had been able to apply her culinary skills to the local ingredients and had concocted masterpieces in a style that could be called Afro-French cuisine.
He smiles to himself.
To say that her cooking is an improvement over the food prepared at the clinic would be like saying that Chicago is usually only a bit warm in the summer.
"Do you need me to do anything?" he offers.
"You can peel and julienne the plantains," she says as she gestures towards the small kitchen table that sits directly opposite the stove.
John sits down and starts peeling and cutting the plantains. Kem stirs her sauce and starts heating oil in a frying pan. She turns and glances quickly over John's shoulder. She smiles slightly as she sees him working.
Coming from an affluent background, followed up by the life of a busy medical student had combined to make cooking a foreign experience for John. But he had been a fast learner, and she couldn't help but be proud as she watched him apply his surgical skills to cutting the food into perfectly even strips.
She takes the plantain, fries them, and then arranges them on 2 plates with the sauce and vegetables that she had been cooking earlier.
Before she lays the plates on the table, she finishes them off with a bit of garnish for decorative flair, and takes a seat opposite of John.
"You know," he starts, "dinner doesn't always have to be so…elaborate."
"Nonsense," she replies lightly. "There should be at least one meal of the day when you get to enjoy the full pleasure of eating and enjoy the company and discussion of the people you love."
He shakes his head as he thinks about how he can count on one hand the number of times that he and his parents had sat down for dinner with the intent of enjoying both the meal and each others presence.
He almost chuckles, but as he looks at her sitting across from him, he says the one thought that has really come to mind. "I love you", he says suddenly and seriously. Every day that he spends with her, reminds him more and more of all the things that he missed growing up – love between a husband and wife, a stable family life – and all the things that he wants to provide.
They start to eat dinner while they discuss the day's events and joke at their own follies.