Page 57 of Tumbleweed Temptation
She narrowed her eyes. “What are you raising money for?”
“Nothing, no, nothing like that,” Austin said. “We just want to tell you what we’ve got planned, kind of give you a heads up. We’re starting a healthy eating initiative, and we’re going to have a series of cook-offs, you know, like those cooking competition shows.”
“We’re going to challenge people in town to make something using ingredients we give them, things that are healthier alternatives,” Ginny added, kind of liking the rhythm they fell into. “We want to have the competitions next month, but we’re going to give everyone the information this coming weekend, and encourage them to start practicing the dish they plan to make, so I thought we’d give you the list of ingredients now, so you can order them and have them on hand when people come shopping.”
“So you’re not going to be having them cook what we already have in stock?”
“No, but we’re not going to go crazy with the ingredients, either. It’s mostly produce that we’ll need.”
“That’s what gets expensive,” Mrs. Lopez countered.
“Sure, we know that,” Ginny said. “Janine said the same thing. But maybe you can go together to order the produce and maybe get a break on the price? And since we’ll be promoting this competition, you should be able to sell it so you won’t have the waste. I know that was Janine’s concern, ordering too much and having it go bad.”
“You couldn't use it with frozen vegetables?”
“We want to start with fresh,” Austin said. “We want to encourage people to make that their first choice. The winner of the competition, though, will get his or her recipe reproduced in a cookbook, and at the diner, or at The Wheel House, or at Delgado’s. So we might be able to modify it for frozen vegetables if that happens.”
“Where’s the list?” Mrs. Lopez’s tone remained skeptical, even though the other shoppers had now come closer to listen to the pitch.
Austin handed it over, and Mrs. Lopez lowered her glasses to squint at it.
“Squash, okay, pumpkin, zucchini, all that is easy. What the hell is butternut squash? And quinoa?” She pronounced it ken-yoa.
“That’s a grain with a good shelf life. Like rice, but better for you,” Austin said.
“And you want me to carry avocado oil? Coconut oil?”
“We’re looking for alternatives to cooking in butter and lard,” Ginny said.
“And who’s going to be competing? You’re not going to find anyone here in town who’s going to want to cook with these ingredients, much less eat this stuff.”
“We’re hoping that enough people like watching those competition shows, that they’ll be willing to try something new,” Ginny said.
“We’ll leave you the list, and you see the dates of the competitions are there. We’re going to let people know the information and the ingredients this coming weekend, so they can work on recipes, get familiar with the ingredients before the competition. We just hoped you’d have the items in stock so they can have easy access. I want us to work together on this,” Austin continued. “You, the restaurants. I’m not trying to change the whole world here, just trying to get people to try something new that they might like, and might keep them healthier. By the way, when are you coming to see me?”
“My doctor is in San Angelo, and old enough that I trust that he knows what he’s doing.”
“Fair enough,” he said without missing a beat. “You change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“I won’t.”
“Okay.” Austin motioned for Ginny to leave the list with Mrs. Lopez and they headed out of the shop.
“Want to get something to eat?”
She groaned. “I’m not going to the diner on my day off, and both Hailey and Delgado’s close on Mondays.”
“If only there was some other way to get food,” he said, and turned his face to the sign over the grocery store door. “Come on, I’ll make you dinner.”
“You’ll make me dinner,” she repeated, following him back into the grocery store, where Mrs. Lopez was ringing up Allison Fraser. She realized, too late, that both women would read something into those words.
Austin seemed not to care, grabbing a basket and wheeling it toward the meat department in the back.
Without asking her what she liked, he loaded a package of chicken breasts into the cart and headed down the canned food aisle. He added crushed pineapple, instant rice, soy sauce and then walked up and down two aisles, slowly, before asking Mrs. Lopez if she had any chili garlic sauce.
She blinked at him. “Why would I have that?”
“I’ll just get it delivered,” he said, turning down another aisle and picking up a jar of hot sauce. “Jars of garlic?”
