Read Online Miss Spelled (The Kitchen Witch 1) by Morgana Best - Free Book Online
Authors: Morgana Best
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Thyme asked me in a puzzled tone as we sat side by side on the bench, waiting for the fire department to arrive. The last remnants of smoke lazily wafted out the kitchen window.
I groaned and buried my face in both hands. I should have known that I wasn’t magically going to learn to bake that easily, even with close supervision. “Sorry.”
Thyme waved away the apology and seemed more amused than anything. “It’s not like it was a big disaster or anything. We put the flames out easily. I wouldn’t even have called anyone in if you didn’t need the report. Insurance won’t replace the oven without it.”
I was horrified. “The oven might need to be replaced?”
Thyme shrugged. “No idea, but it is an old oven. Angelica had it for years. You might do better with one that you feel a good vibe with, and it would be better if the insurance bought it for you, right?” Thyme gave a playful wink and then fanned away a cloud of smoke that drifted our way.
I suspected that she was just trying to cheer me up. Still, it was nice to have someone supportive in my corner during my latest cooking incident. “It’s hopeless.” I sighed and glanced over my shoulder at the store. Why couldn’t my aunt have left me a bookstore? A shoe store? Anything but a cake store?
“Not at all.” Thyme followed my gaze and gave a half smile. “Good thing Aunt Angelica kept three ovens for busy times. We’ll use a less temperamental one after they have a look at the kitchen.”
“Do we have to?” I fixed an exaggerated tragic expression on my face, trying to lighten things despite my worries. I had to smile as Thyme let out a laugh.
“You’ll get it. I have feelings about these things. And you, Amelia Spelled, are going to make the most amazing cakes ever.”
When Thyme said things in that confident tone of hers, it was hard not to believe it. But of course, I had months of proof to the contrary. “I’m afraid that’s a bet you’re going to lose.”
“Oh no, I’m not allowed to bet. It’s frowned upon in this establishment.” Thyme spoke in a mock dignified tone as she pretended to look over an imaginary pair of glasses.
“What establishment?” I asked her. Sounds like this town was pretty old fashioned in the gambling department.
Thyme gave me a grin and leaned over to rest her chin on her hands. “I was only joking, but we’re getting off topic. You are going to be a great cook. I would bet on it.”
“Nice of you to say.”
“Nope.” Thyme shook her head. “Not just saying. Knowing . After all, you have people to help you learn now. It’s a huge difference from reading stuff on the web.”
“Teach me, Master Yoda,” I said, giving a playful bow of homage. I wished I had Thyme’s confidence, but at the moment I’d settle for her good company.
“Ha, I’m just here to help you get your start,” Thyme said. “You’ll do great. Trust me on this.”
“Any hints how?” I couldn’t help but sigh at the thought of it.
“First off, every ingredient has its place in the recipe. Eggs bind. Yeast makes it fluff. Sugar sweetens. The list goes on. Same for the tools. Everything is there for its own reason. Trust the recipe and you won’t go wrong.”
I suppressed a sigh. “If only it were that easy.” If it were as easy as following instructions, I would have nailed it long ago.
“It is. Well it isn’t. But it is.” Thyme bit her bottom lip thoughtfully. “It’s not so much mimicking the words, as feeling it.”
Okay, that was about as clear as mud.
Thyme must have realized it by the look on her face. “Okay, um, it isn’t just mixing eggs and flour for example.” Thyme waved her hands helplessly as she tried to find the words. “It’s feeling the mix get smooth while you stir it. It’s sensing that exact moment it changes from powder and goo into batter. Things they just can’t teach someone on a recipe card.”
It was all sounding horribly complicated to me. “But how does
I groaned and buried my face in both hands. I should have known that I wasn’t magically going to learn to bake that easily, even with close supervision. “Sorry.”
Thyme waved away the apology and seemed more amused than anything. “It’s not like it was a big disaster or anything. We put the flames out easily. I wouldn’t even have called anyone in if you didn’t need the report. Insurance won’t replace the oven without it.”
I was horrified. “The oven might need to be replaced?”
Thyme shrugged. “No idea, but it is an old oven. Angelica had it for years. You might do better with one that you feel a good vibe with, and it would be better if the insurance bought it for you, right?” Thyme gave a playful wink and then fanned away a cloud of smoke that drifted our way.
I suspected that she was just trying to cheer me up. Still, it was nice to have someone supportive in my corner during my latest cooking incident. “It’s hopeless.” I sighed and glanced over my shoulder at the store. Why couldn’t my aunt have left me a bookstore? A shoe store? Anything but a cake store?
“Not at all.” Thyme followed my gaze and gave a half smile. “Good thing Aunt Angelica kept three ovens for busy times. We’ll use a less temperamental one after they have a look at the kitchen.”
“Do we have to?” I fixed an exaggerated tragic expression on my face, trying to lighten things despite my worries. I had to smile as Thyme let out a laugh.
“You’ll get it. I have feelings about these things. And you, Amelia Spelled, are going to make the most amazing cakes ever.”
When Thyme said things in that confident tone of hers, it was hard not to believe it. But of course, I had months of proof to the contrary. “I’m afraid that’s a bet you’re going to lose.”
“Oh no, I’m not allowed to bet. It’s frowned upon in this establishment.” Thyme spoke in a mock dignified tone as she pretended to look over an imaginary pair of glasses.
“What establishment?” I asked her. Sounds like this town was pretty old fashioned in the gambling department.
Thyme gave me a grin and leaned over to rest her chin on her hands. “I was only joking, but we’re getting off topic. You are going to be a great cook. I would bet on it.”
“Nice of you to say.”
“Nope.” Thyme shook her head. “Not just saying. Knowing . After all, you have people to help you learn now. It’s a huge difference from reading stuff on the web.”
“Teach me, Master Yoda,” I said, giving a playful bow of homage. I wished I had Thyme’s confidence, but at the moment I’d settle for her good company.
“Ha, I’m just here to help you get your start,” Thyme said. “You’ll do great. Trust me on this.”
“Any hints how?” I couldn’t help but sigh at the thought of it.
“First off, every ingredient has its place in the recipe. Eggs bind. Yeast makes it fluff. Sugar sweetens. The list goes on. Same for the tools. Everything is there for its own reason. Trust the recipe and you won’t go wrong.”
I suppressed a sigh. “If only it were that easy.” If it were as easy as following instructions, I would have nailed it long ago.
“It is. Well it isn’t. But it is.” Thyme bit her bottom lip thoughtfully. “It’s not so much mimicking the words, as feeling it.”
Okay, that was about as clear as mud.
Thyme must have realized it by the look on her face. “Okay, um, it isn’t just mixing eggs and flour for example.” Thyme waved her hands helplessly as she tried to find the words. “It’s feeling the mix get smooth while you stir it. It’s sensing that exact moment it changes from powder and goo into batter. Things they just can’t teach someone on a recipe card.”
It was all sounding horribly complicated to me. “But how does
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