Chapter 19 - Cooking classes
/Stephanie's Point of View/
When I'd finally settled into my routine, I made a list of things I wanted to change in my life.
Top of the list was getting into shape and being to take out a man twice my size. I was actually well on my way to that, but I had to keep going.
Second was to reduce my spending. Yes, I was currently living on the Rangeman's dime, but I wasn't sure how long that would be the case. I was tired of being a slave to my credit card bill. I instinctively knew I didn't need a new dress, outfit, shoes, or underwear just to lift my mood or celebrate an event. I decided to look at ways to reduce and reinvent what I owned.
Third was to learn to cook. I didn't need to be a gourmet chef, but I wanted to be able to make a basic meal and feed myself something beyond takeout and microwave dinners.
Finally, I wanted to figure out where I wanted to be in twenty years. I didn't think I'd be able to be in the field working security and bond enforcement through retirement. I needed to make a plan for myself and work to make it happen.
Since I was working on the training, I figured I should focus on cooking before a new wardrobe. Right now my wardrobe was mainly uniforms anyway.
I chose to start with an online cooking class. I figured it would allow me to make mistakes in private, but mostly I just made mistakes. The first time I tried to cook, I grated my finger and set off the smoke alarm on a ten-foot ceiling. I got frustrated and threw out $50 worth of ingredients.
A couple days later I was lamenting my experience in the office break room. Most everyone was laughing with me, but Sunni actually had some helpful advice.
"Have you tried an actual class? I have a friend that attends one that is led by local chefs," Sunni offered.
"I don't really have time for another class, and I would probably need a class for kids," I responded.
"The one my friend takes isn't a reoccurring class. You sign up for a specific, one-time class. I went with her once to an Italian themed class where we cooked a fresh pasta dish, a fancy salad, chicken paillard, and a mock tiramisu. I just went the once, but she takes a class every few months. I think they have classes weekly and you just pick what interests you," Sunni replied.
Mac added helpfully, "and they'd be responsible for any fires you set." He got a round of laughter.
Later that afternoon, Sunni messaged me the website of the classes. They looked good. There were rotating chefs that specialized in different cuisines, and it stated explicitly that beginners were welcome.
A week later, I was headed to a class around street tacos where we would make our own tortillas, make salsa, and then make chicken street tacos. It didn't sound Mexican, but we'd also make chocolate mousse for dessert. Any place that taught me to make dessert was good in my book.
I had a blast. The evening started with a margarita and then a demonstration by Chef Antonio, or Tony, as he asked to be called.
We started with dessert first by prepping a chocolate mousse and putting it in the refrigerator to chill. Yes, I had to use a mixer, but the whole process was pretty simple. Tony was beyond helpful. I think I could probably make this again, and I wouldn't have to risk burning down the kitchen. No-bake desserts might be the way to go!
We boiled chicken thighs to shred. Then added various spices and canned tomatoes and left it to simmer. When my chicken started to smoke, Tony helped me turn down the heat and add chicken stock so it wouldn't burn. He never complained or laughed…well, he did laugh but at my response to his corny jokes, not my cooking skills.
We chopped tomatoes, onions, peppers, and cilantro. Tony offered suggestions but didn't complain that my vegetables looked like they'd been hacked by a machete. Those simple ingredients turned into fresh pico de gallo.
We finished our cooking by making fresh corn tortillas from a masa mix. I couldn't roll out a circle to save my life, but that didn't affect the taste.
By the end of two hours, we had an awesome meal and sat down with another round of margaritas to eat and talk.
I hadn't spent so much time laughing and being carefree in months . I didn't want it to end, and when one of the group suggested we all sign up for Chef Tony's next course, enchilada night, I wholeheartedly agreed and booked it right from my phone.
Over the following months, I would end up taking a variety of classes with at least two of this initial group, sometimes with Chef Tony, sometimes not.
Ultimately, I had developed a core group of friends including two chefs, Tony and Marjorie, a real estate agent, a graduate student, an administrative assistant, and a computer programmer. Our main love was food. We took cooking classes and explored restaurants across town.
One Friday evening, as the group was dwindling down after a dinner out, a few of us headed to a local bar.
In chatting with Tony, I mentioned that there hadn't been any cooking classes for breakfast or brunch.
"What were you thinking?" He asked.
"Omelets, scrambled eggs, pancakes or French toast?" I said with a shrug.
"Eggs can be tricky and do need constant attention. They probably need more individual instruction."
"Yeah, I've never even gotten close," I admitted.
"I'll tell you what, I'll teach you how to make eggs and pancakes or French toast, if you'd like."
I admit I was a bit drunk at this point. Maybe I should have seen the signals, but I didn't. So a week later, when I'd shown up at Tony's townhouse for brunch cooking lessons, I found myself saying, "Tony, you're a great guy, don't get me wrong, but I'm not interested in anything more than a friendship."
"Come on Steph, give me a chance. I think we could be great together. It's pretty obvious you aren't seeing anyone."
He wasn't pushy, and we focused back on keeping the French toast from burning. Tony assured me that French toast was the more difficult to master and so I'd chosen it over pancakes.
"What's so obvious about it?" I replied after mulling over his common several minutes.
"Come on, you're usually open for any event except if it conflicts with work. You haven't mentioned a significant other or even a date in all the times we've been out," Tony stated.
That made me think. He's right, I haven't mentioned anyone because there isn't anyone in my life like that right now. But why wasn't I interested? Tony was a great guy and a catch…any woman would be lucky to have him. Who wouldn't want their own private chef? Shit, I was talking myself into this, but it really didn't feel right for me. And lately my mantra was "be true to you".
"Honestly, Tony, if I was interested in dating right now, I'd take you up on the offer. But the truth is, I've been running from a really bad relationship." I paused and added silently to myself, "and I'm pretty sure another guy already has my heart. He just doesn't want it." A tear slipped out somehow and I brushed it away with the back of my hand.
Tony gave me a side hug. "I had to try. Looks like the last of the French toast is done. Do you want to eat it before we fry eggs?"
"Oh, yeah," I replied.
