I’d never claimed I could cook. How’d I become a famous foodie?
I teetered on my mother’s kitchen counter to get a good angle for a photo to post to Heaven Meets Earth, the cooking website Deeni had enthusiastically created after digging up the family’s kokosh history. I aimed my camera lens at the supper table, snapped a picture, hopped down, and posted it.
“Grilled Chicken Steaks with Volcanic Sweet Potato and Green Bean Stix,” I labeled it, cropping out the corner where you could see the leftover cookies my great aunt had brought this past Shabbos. Deeni had roped me into signing up for Kalei HaBishul, her cooking group for engaged and newlywed women, and I’d gone along with it because — here’s the truth — I was terrified not to.
Because the kitchen was the heart of the home, I suppose. Deeni’s slogan. And honestly, it was pathetic that the cookies I’d brought to my future in-laws the Shabbos after our vort were the Bingo-style pre-made ones I’d popped into the oven.
Deeni called me that evening. “Loved your supper! You submitted for the healthy bake contest yet? Hang on!” The picture text came in a few seconds later. Black bean brownies! Shiffy just submitted. De-lish.
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