Page 52 of Ruined by the Wrong Earl

‘Mince the parsley.’ Ani handed her a knife. ‘Then we will mix the cheese with the eggs and herbs.’

Nora stood behind a worktable in her auntie’s kitchen. Nora had brought her notebook to write down the steps to the recipes, but she soon learned that Ani never accurately measured anything. She often used a pinch of this, a dash of that and a pour of something. Nora couldn’t imagine preparing her slides of specimens for viewing this way. It could make the difference between a scientific discovery or seeing nothing at all. In her mind, cooking without specific measurements would be just as disastrous.

She marveled at Ani’s talent. How on earth did her dishes consistently taste the same? And how on earth was she to learn?

‘I’m glad you are settled. We need to find Candace and Sara husbands,’ Ani said.

At the mention of her sisters, Nora’s knife halted. ‘I hope they will find love matches.’

‘And you didn’t?’

Oh, no. Ani was isolated from English Society and hadn’t heard about the country party. She also had a way of meddling without Nora realizing it until it was too late. ‘Lord Ralston is different.’

‘Why? Because he’s a lofty earl? We do not believe a title makes a man.’

In their culture, the English titles did not matter. Nora had always thought it refreshing. Her English mother, however, had other opinions.

‘I prepared the dough for the boreg in advance, but we must roll it out.’ Ani set a bowl and rolling pin on the worktable.

Nora gave an anxious little cough. Her parsley was not as finely minced as it should be but next came an even more difficult task. She’d seen this done before but never tried it herself. She soon realized why. She floured the table and set to work.

‘Each sheet must be as thin as a piece of foolscap,’ Ani instructed.

Her aunt made it look easy. It wasn’t. Nora had little luck rolling out the dough and kept tearing the thin, delicate sheets. She spent a good amount of time working with the rolling pin. After they had enough, a thin sheet of dough was cut lengthwise and brushed with butter. A full tablespoon of a mixture of shredded cheese, beaten eggs, finely chopped parsley and nutmeg was placed at the bottom of the sheet. Then each piece was folded like a flag and brushed with more butter. This task was just as difficult. If one didn’t fold and butter each piece quickly enough or left it exposed to the air, it would dry out and crumble.

Not for the first time, she wondered if she’d made a mistake in asking to be taught how to cook. Her interest in Ralston had her doing things she’d never dreamed of attempting in the past. Her desire to please him was frightening.

An hour later, and with much help from Ani, the trays of boreg were almost finished baking. The delicious smell of cheese-filled pastry pervaded the kitchen and made her mouth water. She couldn’t wait to taste the savory pastry.

Nora glanced at her notes as she waited for the trays to cool. The pages were messy and disordered. Ani hadn’t measured the amount of cheese, nutmeg or parsley. The only precise measurements were to use two lightly beaten eggs. And an egg wasn’t really a measurement, was it? An egg could be larger or smaller. Her logical mind rioted. She could never work this way. But she had to learn. She wanted to do this for Ralston.

Nora’s voice was laced with frustration. ‘How does everything taste the same each time if you don’t measure anything?’

‘I measure my way,’ Ani said nonchalantly. ‘You can learn, too.’

Nora wasn’t as certain. She was distracted when Ani placed a piece on a plate and handed it to her. ‘It will taste even better now that you helped to make it.’

Nora picked it up with her fingers and took a bite. Her eyes fluttered closed in delight. The combination of the flaky pastry with its herbed cheese filling was a savory delight. Auntie was right. It did taste better after toiling in the kitchen and making it herself.

An image of Ralston sprang to mind. He’d upheld his agreement so far. Even though she wanted to share this part of her culture with him, she recognized this was going further than she needed to go to thank him for his generosity.

Still, she was excited to spend more time with him. She pictured a private evening in the library. She’d ask the staff to set up a table and chairs for two. She’d wait in heightened anticipation as he’d taste what she’d prepared. Would he like it? Or pretend to enjoy it? He would be gracious either way. She wanted to make him smile.

She wanted him.

‘Are you certain you want to learn more?’ Ani asked.

‘Yes. Teach me how to make a full meal. Hummus first, then the dolma.’ Ralston enjoyed the hummus. Dolma was a Middle Eastern dish of stuffed tomatoes and peppers with meat and rice. If she learned how to make all three, it would be a full meal.

She’d have to convince Cook to allow her to use the kitchen. That was a different battle she’d have to tackle. She hoped Mrs Hanning would help once she explained her reasons. The irony was not lost on her that if she wasn’t in the kitchen preparing a meal for him, she would most likely be organizing her science room or preparing her findings for the Society. She grew aware that her professional timeline was slipping. She’d wanted to present in the fall, but she felt guilty that she’d neglected her research. Her maddeningly attractive husband was distracting her from her goal.

For the rest of the afternoon, Nora and Ani cooked together. Nora used a mortar and pestle to grind soaked chickpeas for the hummus only to have Ani tell her it wasn’t smooth enough. She furiously scribbled in her notebook, recording the pinch of salt, handful of garlic, spoonful of tahini, a pouring of olive oil and a good amount of squeezed lemon juice in the hope she could figure it out all later.

By the time Nora removed her apron, she was hot, her feet hurt and her back ached. She marveled at Ani’s stamina.

Nora kissed Ani’s cheeks before she departed. ‘Thank you. I’ll return to learn more.’

Ani eyed her. ‘He must mean something special to you.’