dressing next. Do you see lemons in there?”
Brittany reached inside the
refrigerator and pulled out several lemons.
Serena showed her how to make the
dressing. Brittany was a quick study and wanted to learn. Brittany
loved the feel of making food, and that was the mark of a good cook.
That was good, because Brittany was all they had right now.
They made the dressing, then the
salads. Jimmy and Olive came in about that time and proceeded to
start making the dinner menu items—boiling pasta, to be warmed back
up when there was an order, layering lasagna in pans, peeling shrimp,
and slicing lemons. Serena left Jimmy and Olive so she could tend to
the bread.
She motioned for Brittany to
follow her back to the bread-making area. When she lifted the towel
off the bowl of dough, Brittany gasped.
“ I can’t believe it’s
gotten so big,” she said, giggling.
Serena laughed. She liked
Brittany.
“ Now I want you to take your
fist like this,” she said holding up her fisted hand, “and punch
it as hard as you can into this dough.”
“ Really?”
“ Yes, really.”
Brittany made her small hand into
a fist and jammed it into the dough. It deflated like a flat tire.
“ Was it supposed to do that?”
the girl asked, concerned.
“ Sure was. That’s called
punching down the dough. Now we’re going to cut it into pieces and
make several loaves. Then we’re going to let them sit on the sheets
until they rise again.”
“ There sure is a lot of rising
with this stuff,” Brittany said.
Together, Serena and Brittany
divided the dough and shaped it into loaves, which they put on
several baking sheets. Serena put a towel over each sheet.
“ We’ll come back in an hour
and check on it. Can you turn the oven on in about forty-five minutes
so it can be warming up?”
Brittany nodded.
“ I’m going to let you work
with Jimmy and Olive until then, okay?”
Brittany nodded again and
followed Serena to where Jimmy was standing.
“ Teach her everything you
know,” Serena said to Jimmy with a laugh.
Jimmy laughed too. “Come on,
girl,” he said to Brittany. “You can help me with these
meatballs.”
Serena went back to the tiny
office and looked around. Things seemed to be in disarray and she
wondered how her grandmother had been handling all of the paperwork.
She sat at the desk and began to go through the papers. There were
receipts from vendors all over the desk and Serena began to gather
them and organize them. There was no computer. Serena decided that
would be the first thing to happen. She would move her own computer
into the office and set up systems for receipts and payments.
Brittany poked her head into the
office. “I turned the oven on 375 like you said. It’s warming
up.”
Serena stood up from the desk and
she and Brittany went to the bread-making station. She showed
Brittany how to cut diagonal slits in the top of each loaf and they
placed the sheets in the bread oven.
“ Won’t be long,” Serena
said.
The wait staff arrived, two young
women and a young man. They set up the tables with fresh tablecloths
and set out the silverware and napkins. It would be nice to have
candles in wineglasses like in the pizzeria she and Jeff had visited.
She would put that on her list.
Serena busied herself with
checking the tables and the food in the kitchen. She realized they
would need to put out bowls of garlic butter to spread on the
homemade bread for the early customers who would get it. She and
Brittany hadn’t made enough for a whole dinner crowd. She took the
butter out of the refrigerator to soften.
Then the timer bell dinged and it
was time to take the bread out. Serena caught Brittany’s eye and
said, “It’s time.”
They removed the sheets from the
oven to cool.
“ We’re going to cut these
into slices and give each table about a third of a loaf tonight. If
we run out, we’ll use the bread we’ve been buying from the
vendor.”
After about fifteen minutes,
Serena grabbed one
Learning to Kill: Stories