Read Online The Power of Poppy Pendle by Natasha Lowe - Free Book Online
Authors: Natasha Lowe
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Poppy to sit down. “You should never eat standing up or walking around. It is not good for the digestive system. Plus, you never taste your food properly if you are moving about. We want to sit and concentrate.” Marie Claire closed her eyes and took a bite. Poppy copied her. She could feel the warmth of the morning sun streaming through the windows.
“This is perfect,” Poppy sighed, chewing slowly. The bread was soft and airy. You could really taste the creamy French butter Marie Claire insisted on using. Chunks of dark chocolate melted on Poppy’s tongue. When she swallowed, she knew this was one of the most delicious things she had ever eaten.
“That’s my dream,” Poppy whispered with longing. “To cook like that and have a bakery of my very own.”
“And I’m sure one day you will,” Marie Claire replied, gently touching Poppy’s arm. “But now it is time to set up the shop. We open in thirty minutes.”
They filled the glass cases and window displays with trays of breads and pastries. Then Marie Claire handed Poppy a pink-and-white-striped apron. “Put this on, chérie . We wear these when we serve.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t!” Poppy froze behind the counter. She was staring through the window and her eyes were full of panic. People had already started to gather outside, and standing at the front of the line was nosy old Maxine from next door. “I don’t want to be out here,” Poppy said, and dropping her apron on the floor, she hurried back into the kitchen.
Chapter Nine
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Caramel Cookies
L ATER, WHEN MARIE CLAIRE APPEARED IN THE KITCHEN DOORWAY, Poppy explained, “I’d much rather wash dishes, and my math is terrible. I don’t want to handle the money.”
“Really,” Marie Claire mused, watching Poppy scrub away at a mixing bowl. Drops of brown water had sloshed onto the floor, and when Poppy put the bowl in the drying rack, streaks of chocolate still clung to it. “You’ll get lonely, being in here all by yourself.”
“No, I won’t,” Poppy said. “I love your kitchen, and perhaps when I’ve washed up these pans, I could start baking cookies?” The shop bell tinkled.
“I must go,” Marie Claire said, turning to leave. “Someone needs serving.”
“So can I?” Poppy called after her. “Bake some cookies, that is?”
“Well, I can’t promise we’ll sell them, but all right, go ahead,” Marie Claire agreed, glancing back to give Poppy a friendly smile. As she opened the shop door, she whispered under her breath, “What have I gone and done? This could be a complete disaster.” But Marie Claire was still smiling as she wrapped up a loaf of chocolate butter bread and handed it over to her customer.
Poppy had been thinking about caramel cookies for a long time now. How they would taste and how she would make them. There were no recipes for caramel cookies in any of her cookbooks, so she made one up as she went along. Plenty of butter and brown sugar, a pinch of salt, and some fresh vanilla beans ground to a powder.
“Whatever you’re making, it smells fantastic,” Marie Claire said, untying her apron and collapsing into a chair. Each day she closed the patisserie for two hours at lunchtime.
“Try one,” Poppy said shyly, offering Marie Claire a cookie.
“ Mon Dieu! You made a lot,” Marie Claire gasped, staring at the counters. “A lot of cookies and a lot of mess!”
“I’m sorry. I got a little carried away, but I’ll clean it all up, I promise,” Poppy assured her. She felt nervous as she watched Marie Claire chew. The French woman didn’t say anything for what seemed like an awfully long time. Then she gave a brisk nod.
“Excellent, Poppy. Arrange some on a plate and we’ll see how they sell.”
“Really? You’re going to put my cookies in your shop?” Poppy spun around in excitement, knocking a bag of flour onto the floor. “Oh my goodness.
“This is perfect,” Poppy sighed, chewing slowly. The bread was soft and airy. You could really taste the creamy French butter Marie Claire insisted on using. Chunks of dark chocolate melted on Poppy’s tongue. When she swallowed, she knew this was one of the most delicious things she had ever eaten.
“That’s my dream,” Poppy whispered with longing. “To cook like that and have a bakery of my very own.”
“And I’m sure one day you will,” Marie Claire replied, gently touching Poppy’s arm. “But now it is time to set up the shop. We open in thirty minutes.”
They filled the glass cases and window displays with trays of breads and pastries. Then Marie Claire handed Poppy a pink-and-white-striped apron. “Put this on, chérie . We wear these when we serve.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t!” Poppy froze behind the counter. She was staring through the window and her eyes were full of panic. People had already started to gather outside, and standing at the front of the line was nosy old Maxine from next door. “I don’t want to be out here,” Poppy said, and dropping her apron on the floor, she hurried back into the kitchen.
Chapter Nine
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Caramel Cookies
L ATER, WHEN MARIE CLAIRE APPEARED IN THE KITCHEN DOORWAY, Poppy explained, “I’d much rather wash dishes, and my math is terrible. I don’t want to handle the money.”
“Really,” Marie Claire mused, watching Poppy scrub away at a mixing bowl. Drops of brown water had sloshed onto the floor, and when Poppy put the bowl in the drying rack, streaks of chocolate still clung to it. “You’ll get lonely, being in here all by yourself.”
“No, I won’t,” Poppy said. “I love your kitchen, and perhaps when I’ve washed up these pans, I could start baking cookies?” The shop bell tinkled.
“I must go,” Marie Claire said, turning to leave. “Someone needs serving.”
“So can I?” Poppy called after her. “Bake some cookies, that is?”
“Well, I can’t promise we’ll sell them, but all right, go ahead,” Marie Claire agreed, glancing back to give Poppy a friendly smile. As she opened the shop door, she whispered under her breath, “What have I gone and done? This could be a complete disaster.” But Marie Claire was still smiling as she wrapped up a loaf of chocolate butter bread and handed it over to her customer.
Poppy had been thinking about caramel cookies for a long time now. How they would taste and how she would make them. There were no recipes for caramel cookies in any of her cookbooks, so she made one up as she went along. Plenty of butter and brown sugar, a pinch of salt, and some fresh vanilla beans ground to a powder.
“Whatever you’re making, it smells fantastic,” Marie Claire said, untying her apron and collapsing into a chair. Each day she closed the patisserie for two hours at lunchtime.
“Try one,” Poppy said shyly, offering Marie Claire a cookie.
“ Mon Dieu! You made a lot,” Marie Claire gasped, staring at the counters. “A lot of cookies and a lot of mess!”
“I’m sorry. I got a little carried away, but I’ll clean it all up, I promise,” Poppy assured her. She felt nervous as she watched Marie Claire chew. The French woman didn’t say anything for what seemed like an awfully long time. Then she gave a brisk nod.
“Excellent, Poppy. Arrange some on a plate and we’ll see how they sell.”
“Really? You’re going to put my cookies in your shop?” Poppy spun around in excitement, knocking a bag of flour onto the floor. “Oh my goodness.
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