Trixie was in total control when she found herself in Mama Hazel’s kitchen the next day. Today’s visit was purely professional. Andre invited her over to taste some new dishes that he’d been working on. How could she say no to free and delicious food?
“Close your eyes and open your mouth.” His voice was low and sensual. He held a bowl behind his back.
“Why are you being so mysterious?” Trixie tried to see what was in the bowl without any success. Being spoon-fed was too sensual, too intimate. Not keeping things professional. She crossed her arms. “I’m a grown woman. I can feed myself.”
“You think I’m trying to seduce you with food?”
“What am I supposed to think when you talk to me in that voice?” she shot back.
He blinked innocently as if he didn’t realize the effect he had on her.
“I promise not to seduce you right now. Scout’s honor.” He held up three fingers.
“You were a Boy Scout?” Instead of feeling annoyed that this was yet one more thing he’d never shared about himself, she was excited. Yesterday had unlocked a gate, and now he spoke freely about himself and his past.
“Nope.” He snorted. “But I wanted to be one.”
“Stop clowning around,” she scoffed. “Hand me the bowl already! I’m starving.”
“Oh, hangry Trixie is feisty,” he teased.
“I am not even close to hangry. You don’t want to see that.” She gave a half smile. He was kind of cute, this playful Andre. Everything between them had changed yesterday. Instead of butting heads or avoiding each other, they were talking instead of tossing barbs. Hanging out was comfortable and safe.
“Okay, I’m nervous about you tasting this, because you inspired this dish.”
“How did I do that?” That tidbit made her even more curious. She leaned to the side, hoping to see around his back, but he’d covered the bowl with a kitchen towel. On cue, her stomach growled.
“Fine.” He slid the bowl onto the stainless-steel table and sat across from her. “I want your honest opinion.”
“Even if I hate it?” She picked up the spoon and met his gaze.
“Yes, especially if you hate it. I don’t want to serve a terrible dish and ruin the restaurant’s reputation.”
“You’re being dramatic,” she teased. When she saw vulnerability in his eyes, she gave him an encouraging smile. She was relieved that his openness wasn’t a one-time thing. That he was able to share the full range of his emotions with her.
With the flair of a celebrity chef, he pulled off the towel. The bowl was wide and shallow, not deep like the one they served gumbo in.
“It’s shrimp etouffee.” The way he acted, she expected something else. Like something from a cooking show they used to watch together. Instead it was a very familiar New Orleans comfort food.
“Don’t look so disappointed.” His face fell. “I know it doesn’t look like much—”
Trixie set the spoon on his lips and shushed him. “Let me taste it before you jump to conclusions.”
Andre didn’t realize how nervous he was until it was time to share with Trixie what he’d made. Would she hate it or accuse him of appropriating her family’s food? If she did either, he’d fix the dish. Make it into something Mama would be proud of.
He trusted Trixie’s opinion. Ever since the moment she declared her hatred for him, he knew she would always tell him the truth. This new version of Trixie stood up for what she believed and what she wanted. Like the way she’d demanded control yesterday.
If he hesitated any longer, the food would be cold. He took the spoon out of her hand.
“Before you dig in, make sure you get a little bit of everything in one bite.” He handed the spoon back to her.
“You’re telling a native New Orleanian how to eat etouffee?” With the same playfulness that was in her voice, she took the spoon and carefully scooped up a small amount of each element of the dish.
Andre held his breath. As her luscious lips wrapped around the spoon and the food hit her tongue, he watched her face for a reaction. She closed her eyes and set the spoon back in the bowl as she chewed. How was one woman this incredibly sensual when eating a bite of food?
He was glad that she’d refused to let him feed her. This afternoon’s taste testing would have been derailed. He didn’t plan to see her again so soon, but Keisha was on him about finalizing the daily specials. Trixie loved his idea for a lunch buffet, and Andre wanted an impartial taste tester.
He was nervous. Serving her a dish inspired by her family was ballsy. Keisha and the initial taste testers liked it, but he didn’t want to serve it if Trixie hated it.
“Oh!” Trixie mouthed in surprise. She swallowed. “It’s crunchy. Is that—”
He exhaled and nodded. Recognition blossomed on her face, and she gasped. She dug in for another bite. Relief flooded his body.
“This tastes like”—she spoke with her mouth full—“both parts of me. Vietnamese and New Orleans.”
“I meant to have you try it at the last pop-up, but things didn’t go as planned.” He was glad for that night, because it’d brought her back into his arms. “I wanted your approval before officially putting it on the menu.”
“Andre, it’s delicious! You have to add it to the menu. I can’t believe you remember eating cơm cháy at my parents’ place.”
“I wasn’t sold when you translated it to ‘burnt rice.’ I only tried it so I could make a good impression on your parents.”
“You’ve never told me that! You realized that the rice at the bottom of the pot is the most coveted section?” She laughed. “It meant a lot that my mom offered it to you.”
“Really?” Maybe she did tell him that, but he’d been so nervous about meeting her parents that he ate everything they put in front of him. “It made an impression on me.”
“Is this the first time you’ve been back in the kitchen, since—um.” Trixie paused awkwardly.
“Since Mama died?” He rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, it is.”
He shouldn’t have left everything to Luis, but it had been too hard to work in the kitchen, tracing the steps his mom took every day as she cooked from her heart. Sticking to the bar was easier. Since they added it after she passed, there were no memories sneaking up on him there.
Andre had let his guilt and grief keep him away, but preparing all the dishes today was therapeutic. He only hoped the rest of the dishes honored his mom even though he added his own twist to them.
“How does it feel to be cooking at Mama Hazel’s again?” she asked before shoveling another spoonful into her mouth.
WHEN TRIXIE WAS a kid, her classmates laughed at the burnt rice and caramel stewed pork belly she brought for lunch. Burnt rice was what she called it because that was the literal translation. They made fun of her stinky and burnt food. She still loved her mom’s cooking but had insisted that she eat school lunch after that.
Now Andre had taken this humble food and combined it with his family’s food. He’d remembered it all these years, even through their time apart. Her chest swelled with tenderness and—no, not that word. This food reminded her of home and made her emotional. That was it. Nothing more.
“It feels weird because Luis has been in charge since Mama got sick. I feel like I’m stepping into his domain.”
“I bet he’s glad to have you in here.” Time to steer the conversation back to something more work-related. “What else do you have planned?”
“We only need four different daily specials for the buffet now that we’re closed Monday through Wednesday. I made small batches of the two if you want to try them. I’m still working out what the last dish will be.”
“If they’re half as good as this etouffee with scorched rice, I’m in.” Discussing details of the menu made it easier to ignore all the warm feelings rising up inside Trixie.
“I’ll dish them up, but they still need work.” He walked over to the stove. “They’ll probably need some tweaks. Which is why you’re here.”
He came back with two plates piled with food. The smell made her mouth water. She forced herself to wait until he was ready for her to try them.
“This one is collard greens cooked with kimchi.”
Trixie raised an eyebrow. When did he get into kimchi?
“I know it sounds like they won’t go together, but Mrs. Kim used to give mom jars of her homemade kimchi. I went through a phase where I ate kimchi with everything. It gives the greens a punch and extra umami.”
She grinned. He was so adorable, talking like a contestant on a cooking show.
“I love that it’s inspired by your neighbors.” She pointed at two sliders. “What’s this?”
“Fried catfish nugget sliders on corn cakes with homemade tartar sauce.”
“They’re so cute!” Trixie grabbed one and took a large bite.
The cornmeal crust was seasoned perfectly, while the catfish was moist and tender. The bun was comprised of two small corn pancakes and added a hint of sweetness to contrast with the fish and tartar sauce. “These would go great with beer.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Andre was beaming. “I talked to my beer guy. Starting next week, we’ll have Abita on tap.”
“No way!” Trixie clapped her hands. Abita was their favorite New Orleans beer. She was happy to find bottles of it at the liquor megastores in the Maryland suburbs, but it was ten times better on tap. “Please say you’ll serve Purple Haze, my favorite.”
“Did you forget it’s my favorite, too?” His wide smile transformed his face. He was so happy.
“You did good, Andre. Mama Hazel’s is going to take off faster than you think,” Trixie said before finishing the slider.
She was so proud of him. He’d come such a long way. From hiding his creativity from his mom to finding a way to honor both her food and his ideas. Andre had found his calling and asked her to be a part of it. She wanted to celebrate this moment by hugging and kissing him. But she resisted.
If Trixie wasn’t careful, she could find herself falling in love with him again.