Learning Curves 1 - French Cooking 101 by Olivia Rigal Read Free Book Online

had done most of the night. Her conclusion remained the same. No matter which way she sliced them, the facts were clear. He was visiting France for a few days. Next week, he would be nothing more than the memory of a sweet temptation she had resisted. There was no alternative. Well, no acceptable one.  
    She could stop resisting temptation and go for it. Carpe diem. Then when he left, she would be an emotional wreck with no one to comfort her anymore. Holding back was the only way, and she should lose no more time dwelling on it.
    Avoiding eye contact with Peter, she lectured about basic and simple cooking techniques. She showed them how to prepare her favorite salad dressings and presented easy variations: cider or balsamic vinegar, dijon or seeded Meaux mustard, thinly sliced scallions or, for those who could digest it, cigarette-paper thin slivers of garlic.  
    When she got them started on the soufflé, she was back to her normal self—cheerful and confident. “You’ll see it’s going to be…” Ariane searched for the proper expression. She could only think of a French one. “Simple comme bonjour.”
    “Simple as pie?” suggested Charles.  
    “A piece of cake?” proposed Jena.
    “A walk in the park?” added Mary.
    Ariane looked at them in turn and asked, “Are all those things easy?”
    “Yes,” three voices answered.
    “Good. Soon you’ll have a new expression: easy as a cheese soufflé!”
      She made them separate the yolk from the white of the eggs and beat the whites. They had to weigh, measure, and prepare in little cups all the ingredients they would use, warm up the ovens, and cover ramekins with butter and flour.  
    Then they prepared the basic roux.   Butter melted and flour was added. Then they added the milk, egg yolk, salt, pepper, nutmeg, and finally the cheese. So far, so good.  
    Next came the only difficult part: gently folding the mixture with the beaten egg whites without losing the fluff. There was a trick to it, and she had found that the best way to teach it was to hold her student’s hand and give them a feel for it. She showed Jena, who got it right away. Thomas couldn’t be bothered. If Jena got it, he felt he didn’t need to try. George had a strong resistance to Ariane putting his big hand over hers.  
    “Man, you have control issues!” Ariane teased him. “We’re not dancing; let me lead. I promise, the second you get it, I’ll let you do it alone.”
    Grumbling something Ariane didn’t understand, he let her show him. She could see it was a very uncomfortable moment for him. To end his misery, she quickly let him finish by himself. He made a halfway decent job of it. Who knew such a big guy could have such a tender touch? Mary, probably. She was beaming.
    When Ariane got to her last team, she saw that Charles had done a perfect job and wore a happy grin.
    “My grandmother’s specialty was lemon meringue pie,” he explained. “Beaten egg whites are my delicious childhood friends. I would never mistreat them. I watched you and got it.”  
    “Yes, indeed, you did. This is a great job.”  
    Ariane looked at Peter. He had not even tried. He had been waiting for her and had a smirk on his face. The insolent man was challenging her to touch him, to make him hold her hand as she had done with George. She could do it. She stepped close to him, held the large spoon, and waited for him to put his hand over hers. She made sure the rest of her body stayed clear of him. No big deal, just a hand.  
    No, it wasn’t just a hand. It was a warm hand, an electrifying hand. She worked the spoon with him, up and down, letting the mixture meld with the beaten egg whites without crushing them.  
    Unlike George, he didn’t resist. He let her lead, but at the same time, he slowly shifted closer until he was leaning against her. How had he managed that? Her heartbeat went up. To calm it down, she took a big breath. It didn’t work. She tingled all over. Her brain vanished