Page 10 of Just a Taste
Though to say I’m anxious about tonight would be an understatement.
I don’t like people in my space. Never have and I doubt I ever will.
I was the fourth child in a family of seven unruly kids, and personal space was always something I lacked. Now that I’ve finally got it, I’m reluctant to let it go.
It’s just one evening, I tell myself as I try to refocus on the email I’ve reread about fifty times already. One evening, then they’ll be gone and I can go back to pretending Christmas doesn’t exist.
Though the forces that be aren’t making that easy.
‘On the second day of Christmas, my baby gave to me…’Noelle’s still off-key voice floats through the walls as clearly as if she were standing right beside me.
How is it possible for someone to be so bad at something, yet still clearly derive so much pleasure from it?
It feels odd having her in the house right now. We’ve stuck to a fairly rigid schedule over the last two years and having her walk into the kitchen earlier caught me off guard. I usually try to keep out of her way while she’s here, leaving Roland to show her around and assist her if necessary, but hiring Noelle has undoubtedly been one of the best decisions of my life.
When I’d first started toying with the idea of hiring a personal chef, the goal was to find someone to streamline some of the more tedious and time-consuming aspects of my life. Without needing to spend hours in the kitchen each day, I could dedicate that time to sourcing new investors or creating new products.
I’d have settled for someone who knew how to throw together a half-decent Bolognese sauce, but Noelle has been a revelation.
I don’t think I even knew that food could taste this good, but Noelle makes it look easy. Effortless, even. She comes in once a week, commandeers my kitchen with all the precision and prowess of a seasoned pro, and makes a week’s worth of meals that only need heating up or light preparation before they’re ready for me to devour.
And these aren’t your typical plastic containers filled with rice, plain chicken and frozen vegetables. She makes simple dishes somehow worthy of a Michelin star like it’s easy. I don’t think she’s ever made a dish I haven’t enjoyed, and I find myself looking forward to Monday evenings when I can raid my kitchen and discover the meals she’s left for me.
Her dishes nearly always come accompanied with a hurriedly scrawled Post-it note with a quick explanation of the dish and why she loves it:
Mr H
It’s flu season and this is my tried and tested way for staving off the cold. It’s a family recipe.
(If you still get sick, I take no responsibility ;))
Noelle
Mr H
Happy Jamaican Independence Day! This is the national dish ‘ackee and saltfish’ – try it for breakfast tomorrow.
Enjoy!
Noelle
Mr H
Roland mentioned that your business trip to Italy was cancelled at the last-minute. Not a substitute for the real thing, but here’s some homemade gnocchi with pancetta and sage butter.
It’s one of my fave dishes!
Noelle
I’ve kept every single one of them, and I’m not entirely sure why. There’s a strange energy between us. Her Post-it notes are polite enough, but I can see the way she stiffens slightly, the strain in her smile, on the rare occasions we’re face to face.
Noelle doesn’t like me and it’s my fault entirely. I tend to have this kind of effect on people. It’s probably why Luca is the only friend I’ve managed to hold onto for more than a few years. Unless we’re counting Roland, and I’m fairly certain he only sticks around for the pay cheque.
One of these days, I’ll do something about it. Maybe onceI’ve retired and don’t have to worry about backstabbing Board members and pleasing investors all day long.
‘Doesn’t it feel like Christmas?’
Right. And this Christmas meal too.
