From Scratch

“Now, I know this is new to you, Jerry-”

“Jared.”

“Like I said, Jerry, but we will have this cake done in no time.”

“Well, I hope so, Margie, but the party is in two hours.”

“The last person that called me Margie was my friend Ben in first grade. That was the day he learned what dirt tasted like.”

“… So, it’s Margret?”

“Only if you don’t want to tell me how fresh this flour is. Now, hand me the whisk from the tumbler over there.”

“What’s a whisk?”

“Boy, you haven’t been in a kitchen in a while, have you?”

“Well, I figure it’s about time to start since I’ll be cooking all my meals on my own now.”

“Yeah, that’s part of growing up and moving out. You’ll be ok; I’ll teach you. You ain’t gonna starve on my watch.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah. The whisk is that metal-looking thing over there… No, not that one. That’s a meat mallet.”

“What do you use it for?”

“Tenderizing steaks… or pounding out my frustrations from the people who try to call me Margie.”

“So, it gets a lot of use?”

“Too much, Jerry, too much… Yes, that’s the whisk. Now, whisk the eggs into the flour.”

“Did you measure it out first?”

“Darling, I haven’t measured anything since 1984. I can eyeball everything.”

“Alright… It just looks like a lot.”

“Jerry, who’s been baking longer, you or me?”

“You’re right, you’re right.”

“As I was saying, whisk the eggs into the flour… You gotta twist your wrist; we are whisking, not stirring… There now you got it!”

“That’s not so bad.”

“Now, tell me you remembered to preheat the oven.”

“Was I supposed to?”

“Jerry, if I don’t remember, that’s supposed to be the baking assistant’s job.”

“Since this is my first time baking, I didn’t quite know the rules or steps, Ms. Margret.”

“Well… I guess that’s true. That one’s on me. I do like you calling me Ms. Margret, though. It sounds sophisticated or something.”

“It’s meant for a woman who is to be respected and revered.”

“Revered… You with those fancy college terms. Your momma would be right proud.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

“I hate that she didn’t get to teach you all this stuff before she had to go, but when the Lord says ‘it’s time to go,’ it’s time to go.”

“That’s about the truth.”

“Well, honey, you can come for dinner anytime. I’m glad you found our church.”

“Me, too. I like it very well.”

“Good. We enjoy your company, too. You know, after this, I’m gonna expect you to bring the cake to the potluck in a couple weeks.”

“On my own? I didn’t take notes.”

“Ah, you’ll remember. I got faith in you.”

“Thanks, Ms. Margret. Can I call you if I need some instructions?”

“As long as you remember that a whisk is not a spoon or a meat mallet, I think that can work.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“I know you will.”

“Did your mom teach you how to cook?”

“Nah, that was my grandmother. My mom worked too much to have much time at home. So when I was old enough, I started to cook for her.”

“I’m sure she appreciated that.”

“I think so. My grandmother loved to be in the kitchen. It helped her make time pass by after Granddaddy died. In a way, I like to think I can still feel her near me as I make the same foods she taught me to make and all… But, unfortunately, I didn’t have any children to pass them on.”

“Really?”

“Nah, I was too busy working to let myself settle down and all.”

“Do you ever regret it? I’m not sure kids are in my future either.”

“Well, there are days when the silence gets to me, and I start wondering what it would have been like. But this is who I am and who the Lord made me to be. If I was meant to have children, I would have had them. Sometimes, it’s just best to rely on the Lord’s provision.”

“Yeah.”

“Besides, He sent me a handsome college boy who needs to know his way around the kitchen, and I’m going to get to pass on all my knowledge to him. He will be an amazing catch for any woman he falls in love with.”

“You really think so?”

“Jerry, if you tell any woman you can cook, you have a shoe in the door.”

“Do you think it's really that simple?”

“If there was ever a man to have said it to me, I believe I’d have let him walk me down the aisle.”

“Ms. Margret, you don’t mean that.”

“Well, maybe not, but he’d have a shot.”

“So… can I come back tomorrow?”

“I’ll be home from the bakery at about 7 if you don’t mind eating a late supper.”

“I usually eat about that time.”

“Two peas in a pod, Jerry.”

“My mom used to say that. You remind me a lot of her.”

“I’m glad. Well, I think the oven is finally preheated. Let’s get the cake in.”

“It looks good.”

“It’s my favorite, red velvet.”

“Is it true it’s just a chocolate cake with red dye?”

“Did you see me put red dye in the batter?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Then today, we have chocolate cake.”

“I thought it looked too brown to be red, but I figured you knew more about it than me.”

“Well, Jerry, there’s knowing, and then there’s doing.”

“I’m sure it’ll still be a great cake either way, Ms. Margret.”

“I hope so. Now, have you ever made icing before?”

“It doesn’t just come in a can?”

“Oh, we got work to do…”

“Is it a lot of work?”

“Nah, it’s relatively easy. We will need a spoon for this, Jared.”

“Jerry.”

“You sure?”

“It’s growing on me, but only for you.”

“Aw, that’s nice.”

“Should we try Margie again? I think it’s sweet.”

“Hand me the flour.”