Page 46 of Off the Grid
Churros, goddammit! Churros!
She downed the rest of the water she hadn’t needed for the recipe and slammed the empty drinking glass back onto the counter, flinching with the force.
“Everything okay?” Leo chimed with a smirk.
“Great,” she muttered.
“Because it’s okay if you don’t know how to make them. You can admit you were wrong, and we can both move on from this.”
“I wasn’t wrong.”
“Or you could tell me I was right.”
“Not likely.”
“Or—”
“Leo, could you just be quiet so I can concentrate?”
He chuckled softly and crossed his arms, putting his head against a cabinet as he settled in to keep right on watching. McKenzie frowned and returned to her ingredients, picking up the measuring spoons.
Okay, two and a half tablespoons of sugar. Now, a teaspoon of salt and two tablespoons of vegetable oil.
They went into the pan, one after another, with careful exactness. The numbers calmed her. They gave her something else to focus on. McKenzie grabbed a whisk and stirred the mixture until little bubbles appeared on the surface and all the granules dissolved. Then she took it off the heat and added a cup of flour. The world faded away as she sank into the recipe, straining her arm muscles as she churned the ingredients until a ball formed. McKenzie was in the zone—that special place where passion and focus pushed reality away. Time slowed, or maybe it raced. Nothing existed outside of her fingers and the food they brought to life. Not Leo. Not mobsters. Not her past. Not her future. The only thing that mattered was this recipe, right now, and the endless search for perfection.
She brought a new batch of oil to boil and filled a Ziploc bag with the dough, then cut the end off to make it work like a pastry bag. Piping the churros one by one, she let the thin strips drop into the oil. They sizzled with the heat as the exterior color changed from beige to a crisp golden brown. McKenzie pulled them out, dipped them in a cinnamon-sugar mixture, and carefully arranged them into a pyramid on the plate. She flicked a little extra sugar on top for good measure.
Not bad for the situation. Could’ve used a little chocolate sauce for dipping, but I have to work with what I’ve got.While she admired her handiwork, a hand swooped in and yanked the top churro from the pile.
“Hot, hot, hot!” Leo juggled the pastry in his palms.
“Theyjustcame out of the fryer.”
“I know, but they look so good.” He broke off to take a massive bit, voice shifting into a pleasured groan instead. “Oh my God.”
“You’re supposed to let them cool,” she chided.
Leo shook his head, stuffing the rest of the churro into his mouth, barely able to talk with his mouth so full. “No, you’re not. Try one.”
She hesitated.
“I’m serious,” Leo said while he took another. “These are better than the ones we used to get at the fair.”
“I would hope so.”
He continued as though he hadn’t heard the snide remark. “I need to make you hate-bake more often.”
At that, McKenzie rolled her eyes and grabbed a churro. She blew on the end to cool it. When Leo’s gaze dropped to her puckered lips, she hastily stuffed the fried dough into her mouth in what she hoped was the least attractive manner possible. His mouth pulled into a wide smile.
“Good?”
McKenzie shrugged, trying to play it cool even as her stomach audibly growled.Good? These are fucking amazing. Iama gourmet goddess, she thought, remembering the screenname she’d picked out ages ago.Maybe I should hate-bake for him more often. And maybe we can hate…other things as well.
“Where’d you learn to make these? I can’t imagine it was on the menu at your fancy French school.”
“My, uh…” McKenzie trailed off, covering her pause by taking another bite. Leo and his damn federal-agent senses weren’t fooled.
“What?”
