Cooking 101

[Angela Knight]

Tag: Everett King

At first it seemed like a good idea. She saw the flyer for cooking lessons pinned on a board in the school one morning whilst she was roaming the halls. She was almost twenty one and had mostly been surviving on food she bought from the cafeteria or fast food she ordered. It was pretty sad and she wanted to change that. So the girl signed up for it and came to the place downtown Saturday morning. It seemed like a good idea.

Now however, she took it back. Angela was cooking a piece of meat but it did not look like a piece of meat any more. It was burnt and when she realized it, she panicked. She was reaching out for something but then knocked down a bottle of oil which spilled onto her pan. Perhaps it dripped out of the pan because then there was a fire erupting on her pan.

"Oh shit!" That was probably not supposed to happen. She looked over to her neighbor and smiled apologetically, hoping he could help her. Please. She had no idea how to deal with the fire.

[Everett King]

Some would say that for Ever, attending a cooking class was probably a waste of time. But to Ever himself, it was anything but. He would seize any opportunity to learn a new skill or recipe with open hands, and considered any knowledge he took away from the day to be time well spent.

So far, his time spent over the stove had been completed with relative ease. All of the methods were of course familiar to him. The only surprise was the cut of meat chosen, a feather steak from the shoulder of a cow. It was a beautiful section of meat, but not so popular in most restaurants. In a spur of boredom he'd thrown in parsley and black olives, hopefully while no one was looking. It was with great satisfaction that he listened to the sizzle of his meat cooking, perfectly content in the current situation.

That was, until things started burning. He smelt it first, then heard an expressive cuss from the station beside him. He'd been so wrapped up in his own cooking that he hadn't spared much time to interact with the other people taking the class. Now though, he took an interest and glanced over curiously to see an apparently frazzled young woman, and a geyser of flame. "Whoa there!" He yelped, recoiling slightly until it died down. He chuckled at her apology then eyed the charred remains of her meal. "Well, you're certainly cooking with fire, aye?"
He absently turned the temperature down on the stove and stepped towards the woman with a sympathetic smile. "If I may.....Would you like some help?"

[Angela Knight]

Angela stared helplessly at the fire she created. She was glad that her station was not at the front of the class where the teacher would have a clear view of her slip up and inevitable embarrassment. Oh how she felt like she was in chemistry class again for the first time and had accidentally mixed the wrong chemicals together.

"Trust me, I don't think I'd even know the first thing about cooking." A halfhearted laugh escaped the girl as she stared at what was left of her meat. Yikes. Too bad there was not a button she could hit to undo her mistake.

At his offer, Angela looked up at the man and smiled gratefully. Yes! "Yes please. That would be great, thank you," she said before taking a small step back, observing what he would do first because Angela was without a clue.

[Everett King]

As soon as he received permission Everett swooped in on the stove and lifted the pan. It was slightly devastating to see the charred meat swimming in oil, but he pushed past the travesty. He didn't think even he could save the cut of steak at that point. "Well, that's what we're here for, right?" He replied with an easy-going shrug. It would be a shame if the mistake turned the young lady completely off cooking. Mistakes happened.

Ever carried her pan to the little sink they shared and proceeded to drain as much of the oil as he could, making sure not to let the meat slip out as well. Normally he'd clean out the entire pan and start again, but such strictness wasn't necessary for a cooking class, and the already stressed woman. He rested the pan on the sink and quickly rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. The mottled skin of his burned left arm gleamed queasily under the phosphorescent lights.

Absently he drizzled in a thin stream of fresh oil, then with a thought added a sprinkle of parsley from his own table. Ever winked at the young woman then picked up his spatula. Within a few moments he had cleaved his own steak in half, placed one of the pieces in her fresh pan, and slid her burned chunk into his own. Now, with a fresh, half-cooked piece of meat ready to go, he offered her the handle. "Here, try again. It's already had some time on the heat, and it's a smaller piece, so we'll keep the temperature nice and low." He put his own pan back on the stove, then turned to the woman with a smile and offered his hand. "Forgive my forwardness, I didn't mean to take over your cooking or anything. My name is Everett."

[Angela Knight]

All the while as he did what he did, Angela observed him from a reasonable distance. She was not close enough that he would have trouble moving around their stations yet not far enough that it seemed like she just abandoned her station. Her eyes watched him with curiosity, even if it was something as simple as draining the oil.

In truth, the twenty year old had close to zero experience when it came to cooking. She already did not have any parents to teach her and she rarely used the little kitchenette in her dorm. So everything looked pretty much new to her. Angela was even amazed at how at ease he was when he drizzled the oil. If it were her, the perfectionist was sure she would have measured first the right amount she needed before pouring it into the pan. When he winked, the amazed look was still present.

Shoulders tensed, she nervously took the handle from him. She nodded her head and turned the temperature to low like he said to. "Oh absolutely not," she replied quickly. "What you did was... Awesome. I owe you one." Who knew what would happen if she had another neighbor who was not as nice as him? "Angela," she introduced smilingly, taking her hand off the handle to shake his hand. "So erm sorry, but how would I know when the meat is cooked?"

[Everett King]

At his own station Everett used his spatula to push the ruined steak to the edge of his pan, out of the way. He'd much rather throw it out entirely, but that seemed an awfully rude gesture to the young woman, even if she'd admitted herself how cremated it was.

When he glanced back at her, he would have compared her expression to a stunned turtle. Amazed, and in a sort of innocent way, adorable. He automatically winced, assuming the expression was because he had offended her in some way. However, she seemed to accept the pan and followed his instructions without bitterness, so he assumed everything was ok. Perhaps he really had just surprised her. With the display he'd made, it was safe to assume his cover was blown. He certainly didn't fit into the image of a 'novice cook'.

"Oh no, not at all," he replied, completely flustered. Everett rapidly shook his head, his hands up in protest. "It was nothing, really." Heavens, he'd probably looked like he was showing off, what with his flourish and the way he'd drizzled that oil just right. "God, I probably looked like a pompous prick," he hissed under his breath, turning back to the stove to hide his embarrassment. He glanced out of the corner of his eye, smiling gingerly as he pieced the name to her face. Yes, he supposed she did look like an Angela.

He was only too happy to help, this time to make up for all the attention he'd stolen. If Angela left with any knowledge he'd been able to give her, he'd be happy. "Well, I'm cooking mine medium-rare, but it really depends on how much you want it cooked." He held up his hand and wiggled his fingers with a grin. "Everyone has different ways of telling but I use my fingers." He pressed his thumb and middle finger together, making an O, motioning for Angela to copy him. "Gently press on the meaty part of your thumb. Feel how it springs back? That's the texture we're looking for. If your steak does that, it's medium-rare." Of course, it depended on what fingers you joined together, but he didn't want to overwhelm her all at once.

[Angela Knight]

It may have been nothing to him, but to Angela it was something. She supposed it probably was no big deal on his part considering how effortless he made it looked when he helped her. Compared to him, her skills were waaaaay off and definitely was not on par with his.

“No you don’t!” she said quickly to his comment about himself, a grin tugged at the corners of her lips. “Okay maybe just a tiny little bit,” she said jokingly with a soft laugh. “But a good one.” Even seeing how easy he made it look, she did not think he was showing off. Everett seemed sincere which she appreciated.

Angela listened to him but at the mention of using fingers, an eyebrow raised questioningly. She looked at her own fingers in puzzlement and wondered how he would determine meat temperatures with them. She followed what he did, pressed her thumb and middle finger together creating an ‘O’ shape. Then pressed the meaty part of her thumb like he said.

There was a semi baffled expression on her face. Clearly she had never known about this way of checking temperatures. “So how many meat did you touch to figure this out?” she asked, truly thinking that Everett himself came up with this method. Her finger was now absentmindedly just pressing that part of her thumb.

[Everett King]

Everett gave a meek smile to her teasing, glad he hadn't come off as terrible as he'd feared. Angela seemed kind and definitely grateful for his assistance. "Well if I'm going to be a prick, might as well be a liked one." He chuckled then lifted his pan, twisting it over the flame slightly before putting it back. Almost ready.

He watched as Angela started playing around with her fingers, a bemused smile appearing on his face. There was something entertaining in watching her discover something new, especially since it was such a weird way of teaching. "There you go. Now, when you press the steak, you want to feel that same firmness," he instructed, nodding towards her pan. "It's an easy way to tell when a steak is ready when you don't have a way to measure temperature."

He started tapping his fingers together almost like he was playing the recorder. "Index finger and thumb is for rare steaks. Pinky and thumb is for well done." He had to teach her the others of course. No sense only knowing how to cook medium-rare steaks her whole life. He was probably underestimating Angela a bit now, and internally scolded himself. Luckily Angela surprised him again before he could dwell too much on his mistakes. He tipped his head back and let out a peal of laughter. "Oh I've touched plenty," he smirked. "Though most cases weren't because I was cooking."

He shot a glance at her meal. "You can probably turn it off now." The instructor at the front of the room was still speaking, but he'd more or less tuned her out He didn't look up just to make sure they hadn't fallen behind. "Guess we're making a salad next."

[Angela Knight]

Her nodded along in understanding as she listened to him. She changed her fingers when he introduced the others. There was a look of wonder on Angela as she realized there was indeed different textures on the part of her thumb as she used different fingers to press against her thumb. She definitely felt the difference between the 'well done' and 'rare'. "Oh my god, you're right!" She now knew how to determine meat temperatures. Angela felt a small sense of accomplishment from attending the class.

She gave him a look, wondering what it was the case for him touching plenty of meat. Before she asked him about it though she had to pay attention to her meat - well technically it was his before he nicely gave it to her - and turned the stove off like he said. "Thanks, wouldn't want it to be burnt again." She shot him an appreciative smile. She then used the spatula and took the meat off the pan and onto a plate, thinking that the meat might still cook because of the hot pan despite the fire was turned off. Hopefully it was the right move.

Salad? Angela perked a little at that. "Salad. I'm pretty sure I can't burn that," she said jokingly. "Ever, you don't mind still helping me out with it do you?" Angela asked in the nicest and sweetest way she could. "I like to learn from you."

[Everett King]

Everett laughed at the note of victory in Angela's voice. It was encouraging to hear, and he was invigorated by the new enthusiasm she seemed to have. It was a strange method that he himself had come across while in culinary school. It wasn't a completely accurate method, but it did the job well enough. He turned his own steak off the heat as she did and moved it to the side to rest.

"Right, even I couldn't save you a second time," he said with a wide smile. Her newfound confidence with the salad turned his expression slightly queasy. "Oh, you'd be surprised." In all of his cooking experience, he'd managed to burn, scorch or set alight a wonderful array of meals, including salads. Somehow.

Everett examined Angela, a little taken aback by the question. He thought he'd been a pain for the young woman but it seemed she still wanted his help. The young man started beaming again despite himself and dipped his head in touched acknowledgement. "It would be my pleasure. I was getting a little bored anyway, truth be told." He turned to his counter and picked up a head of lettuce, efficiently peeling off a few of the leaves and placing them in a prepared bowl. "I don't know if it's obvious, but I'm not really what you'd call a beginner."

[Angela Knight]

She had been joking when she mentioned about burning a salad but Everett’s reply had her eyes widening and she begun to wonder how would a salad caught on fire. Since he was definitely the more experience one, she took his word for it. Reminding herself, to be cautious about it when she’d make her salad later.

Angela giddily clapped softly when she realized she was going to get his help. Truthfully, she had thought he might not be up for it because her lack of experience and skills he might find to be slowing him down. So she followed what he did, picking up a head of lettuce from her own counter and peeled the leaves off.

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” she replied, chuckling. Angela was no doubt a beginner, but Everett? She didn’t think so - not with the way he effortlessly drizzled the oil on the pan. Yeah, she wasn’t over that yet. “So why attend a class then, if you don’t mind me asking. Wouldn’t hosting your own cooking class instead be less boring?”