Page 18 of The Baby Dragon Bakery
“There’s nothing wrong with having a good routine,” Garrett said.
“Love a good routine,” Lavinia agreed, munching on a cucumber.
“Nothing wrong with being settled, either,” Garrett continued, pushing back his glasses. “But it shouldn’t feel like a chore. Remember, in life, if you’re largely discontented, it’s usually time for something to change.”
Theo made a thoughtful noise in response. Garrett was a prenatal genetic counselor. He ran genetic tests for couples who were trying to conceive, or had already conceived, to spot any risks the mother or baby might face. Beena was a nurse, and they both worked at the same hospital. It was where they had met.
Which was another instance of fate intervening, Lavinia would tell him, and Theo would counter that Beena and Garrett were both from Starshine Valley, and there weren’t many hospitals here (two to be precise) so, statistically, it wasn’t so momentous that they ended up working at the same hospital.
“But the fact that they had shifts at thesametime and were on the samefloorand had the samelunchroom—it was fate!”
It was impossible to argue with her, and often, they agreed to disagree. In a way, he admired how hopeful she was, thepositive outlook she had. It was a beautiful way to look at the world. He could be too pessimistic; he sometimes wished he had more wonder.
Perhaps he was simply being pessimistic about the Rolling Pin, now. Suki was the best boss anyone could ask for, and while he had gotten his undergraduate degree in business, baking was the only work he had ever been passionate about. He didn’t need a change. He just needed to get out of whatever funk he was in.
After dinner, Theo went out back to play football with Alfie. There was a slight breeze, and he listened to the sound of the leaves rustling on the branches. Inhaling the crisp air, he kicked the ball around with Alfie, teaching him some tricks with his footwork. Theo had been playing since school.
Even now, he played with a bunch of other guys twice a week, and they had games with other teams. It wasn’t anything intense, just for fun. When he was younger, football was always a way to get rid of restless energy, and he still enjoyed it. He played with Alfie for some time while Lavinia went up to her room to prepare her notes for her internship tomorrow and to get a head start on some of her assignments for the week.
Theo was fine; he was used to hanging out with her family members even when she wasn’t there. Even though he wasn’t related to them, he still felt like they were his own.
Alfie and Theo stayed outside until it got dark, then came in. The house was comfortably toasty. Theo rubbed his hands together to warm them. He hadn’t realized how cold the evening had gotten.
“Alfie, wash up and go do your homework,” Beena said from the living room, where Biter was cuddling in her lap, little faceon Beena’s forearm. Alfie pouted, but after a stern glance from his mother, he acquiesced and went. Theo joined Beena in the living room, and she gave him a smile, eyes glinting.
“Should we make something?” she asked.
He grinned. “Yes, please.”
Pretty much everything he knew, he’d learned from her. And not just in regards to baking, either. She stood and set Biter in the bassinet with some chew toys. Theo helped her pull the bassinet toward the edge of the kitchen, where they could keep an eye on the baby dragon. Not that the little draggo would cause trouble; she seemed perfectly content with her toys.
Theo followed Beena into the kitchen, watching as she twisted her hair up and set it with a clip from the edge of her sweater.
“Seviyan?” she asked, opening the fridge. “I don’t think I’ve taught you that, yet.”
“You haven’t,” Theo confirmed, rolling up his sleeves. “But yes, let’s.”
The sweet dish was primarily made of vermicelli, milk, and heavy cream, and Beena grabbed the ingredients. She showed him the steps, teaching him with gentle patience. Theo paid close attention, jotting down the steps in a new note on his phone. First, they boiled the milk and the heavy cream, and after that bubbled, she lowered it to a simmer.
“That’ll cook for a bit,” she said. “And we have to keep stirring it so the bottom and edges don’t burn.”
“Got it.”
“But while that’s simmering, we are also going to toast the vermicelli,” she said, pulling out a pan. She opened the vermicelli packet and broke the thin round spaghetti in halvesso it would be easier to toast. She browned the vermicelli with cardamom pods, the fragrant smell filling the kitchen.
“And now we combine,” she said, emptying the pan of vermicelli and cardamom pods into the milk mixture. She added in sugar, not following any exact measurements but cooking instinctively.
Theo stirred the pot, watching the mixture thicken until it reached what looked to be the right consistency. He held up the spoon, showing Beena as she stood beside him.
“It shouldn’t be too thick, nor too thin,” Beena instructed. “If it’s too thick, it becomes like custard, and if it’s too thin, it’s just milky. We need it in the middle.”
She stirred the pot, then ran her finger along the back of the spoon, tasting. She thought for a moment, then added in a touch more sugar, stirring again.
“Almost ready—time for the secret ingredient,” she said with a wink. She grabbed some soft medjool dates from a jar, splitting three open to pull out the seeds. Then, she dropped them in. “You add them in at the end because you don’t want them to cook or the seviyan to get too sweet and the date flavor overwhelms the dish. And always use medjool—ajwa are too hard.”
“You don’t want to make a paste or anything?” Theo asked, jotting down the notes.
Beena shook her head. “The flavor will get soaked into the milk, and whoever wants the dates will have to hunt for them.”
