How to Bake a New Beginning: A feel-good heart-warming romance about family, love and food!. Lucy Knott
Читать онлайн книгу.
id="u2147f559-6a55-5dd9-962f-08b93701a666">
Grandpa’s Pizza
Ingredients (I’m sure this makes a lot of mini pizzas; need to check on pizza for one?):
10oz yeast
1lb flour
Olive oil
1oz butter
Mug of water
Cheese and sauce
What to do:
Once yeast dough is formed (thank you, Grandpa), roll it out to fit the trays/baking sheets.
Place trays in clear bags (not Tesco bags like Grandpa did once; they will melt) and leave in warm oven until risen.
Once the base has risen, take the trays out of the bags.
Turn the oven on and when ready, cook one side of the base until golden brown.
Flip over and add sauce and cheese like Grandpa does.
Place back in the oven and allow cheese to melt and edges to turn golden.
With a tear in his eye Grandpa reached out and touched Amanda’s arm. He pulled her towards him and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
‘Thank you,’ he said with so much sincerity that Amanda couldn’t stop her eyes from welling up too. She paused for a moment to take in his features. His bright blue eyes glistened, the wrinkles on his round face crinkled up and a small smile developed at the corners of his mouth as he looked at her. If hearts could leap from one’s chest, smile and do happy dances, Amanda was certain that’s what hers would be doing right now. Her chest felt fit to burst, she loved this man so much.
‘Grandpa, grazie. I’m so excited. I think I finally have it all up here now,’ she said, knocking her knuckles against her forehead. She then wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him tight. ‘Come on, let’s go and sit in the living room and have a break.’
Before they could leave the kitchen, Grandpa did his usual check. Deep down, Amanda knew he didn’t doubt her knowledge in the kitchen, but at the same time she was aware that Grandpa liked being thorough. He loved teaching her and repeating the steps to every recipe numerous times and she loved learning from him and could listen to those steps every time he repeated them.
‘It will take about …’ Grandpa started.
‘… an hour,’ Amanda finished. Both were looking at the oven door.
‘Ah, you know.’ Grandpa’s face lit up as he said this. He nodded and walked in the direction of the front room to join the others. He had his arms outstretched, touching the walls as he walked. They were his guide now; he didn’t quite trust his failing eyesight. His shoulders were hunched from years bent over the kitchen counters and his legs wobbled delicately with each step he took.
Amanda puffed out her chest. She loved the feeling of making her grandpa proud. Then she subtly walked behind him, his shaking legs making her anxious that he would fall. They had been in the kitchen for the better part of an hour, making pizza dough. At ninety-five years old that was no mean feat. You still couldn’t get him out of the kitchen when he had his heart set on cooking. These days, however, he knew when to stop and rest, when his legs couldn’t take his weight much longer and no amount of his determination and strong will could hold off the aches and pains.
Grandpa went to sit down beside his youngest granddaughter – Amanda’s baby sister, Louisa – on the soft grey couch. Louisa placed a hand on the small of Grandpa’s back, guiding him down, aiding him with his balance as his old knees did their best to bend. Then she scooted up to give him some space and make sure he was comfy.
Amanda made for the little blue chair in front of the fireplace. This had been the girls’ favourite spot to perch when they were kids. In the cold months, they would run in from school, drop their schoolbags at the foot of the stairs and race to the living room, ready to fight for the chair. With their arms outstretched over the flames they would try to capture the heat, as Grandpa shouted, ‘Careful not to roast,’ with a chuckle. They would tell their nonni about their day and what they had been up to while taking it in turns to sit on the chair, indulging in soft, buttery Bauli cakes as crumbs sprinkled the carpet.
Things hadn’t changed much, except these days Amanda had to position herself more carefully in the chair. When she looked up she caught sight of Louisa who was grinning, her brown eyes looking from the chair to Amanda. They weren’t kids any more. The precise movement – a twist of the hips and a gentle shuffle to avoid getting stuck between the armrests – was certainly a sight to behold. She couldn’t help but reciprocate Louisa’s grin. She would not get stuck today; she’d mastered this by now.
‘Grandpa, would you like a biscuit?’ Louisa asked, picking up the tin and offering it to him.
‘Just one?’ he questioned, making both girls laugh. Amanda watched him tuck into his chocolate biscotti. Tears threatened her eyes again as she replayed his ‘thank you’ in her mind. Though Grandpa could be impatient at the best of times, his passion for cooking knew no bounds and it was getting harder for Nanna to help him in the kitchen.
The girls’ mum would often tell him that he couldn’t start whipping up things left and right and then leaving it for Nanna to finish and clean up. Mum would have to explain to him that Nanna was getting old too. This frustrated Grandpa. He would get bossy and occasionally snap when the girls tried to help him.
Today, hearing him say ‘thank you’ after Amanda had helped him mix up the pizza dough and prep it to rise in the oven had melted her heart. Not only because in that moment he seemed to acknowledge his sometimes-bad moods and apologize for them, but also because she couldn’t imagine not being able to cook whenever she wanted. She understood his need to be in the kitchen; after all, he had passed on that same passion to her. She knew how important cooking was to him. His ‘thank you’ had been filled with gratitude – all because of the simple act of being there for him, allowing him to do what he loved.
‘One for Amanda too,’ Nanna said to Louisa, pointing at the gold tin of biscuits on the coffee table. Tins of biscuits were a permanent fixture in the living room. ‘Mangia, mangia,’ Nanna continued, as she turned to look at Amanda.
‘I am, Nanna, I am, look,’ Amanda replied, her nanna’s voice snapping her out of her thoughts. She stood up out of the chair, with a ninja-like swivel of her hips, so they wouldn’t get caught under the tiny armrests, and took a biscuit from the tin. She smiled at her nanna and stuffed the whole thing in her mouth.
‘You’re a cheeky girl,’ Nanna said, with a tut and a shake of her head.
Amanda took another biscuit and bent down to kiss her nanna on the forehead. ‘I love you,’ she said, with a mouthful of amaretti.
‘God bless you,’ Nanna replied, her voice wobbling slightly. ‘Grazie, grazie for helping Grandpa.’
Amanda leant down and kissed the top of her forehead once more, her nanna’s rose scent filling her heart with contentment.
‘What time is it?’ Grandpa asked, squinting through his round glasses, to see the clock above the fireplace better.
‘Nearly time, Grandpa,’ Louisa answered. Both sisters knew all too well why he was asking. Amanda and Louisa’s sister, Sabrina, was due any minute and Grandpa had spent the better part of the morning looking at the clock. It had been a while since he’d had all three of his granddaughters together. His excitement was clear from the sparkle in his eyes.
‘Ahh, I ask you too many times,’ Grandpa said, shrugging his shoulders and placing his hand on top of Louisa’s biscuit-free hand.
‘No, no, it’s OK, Grandpa – we’re excited too. We understand,’ Louisa replied,