Stirring Up The Pots

“Everything under control?”

“Absolutely,” I responded, stirring the contents of the left pot, checking on the right.

Gravy bubbled up delicious aroma. Steamy chocolate swirled to the ceiling, taking me back to the time I watched mother make the same recipe.

“Darn!” my inner voice screamed. “Cornstarch lumps!”

I reached for the blender. Meantime I detected a slight burning cocoa smell and set the dessert sauce aside.

“Fifteen minutes left!” the announcer yelled.

A panel of judges awaited each contestant’s creations.

“Interesting combination with chicken,” one stated, sampling mine. “There’s brandy. Definitely chocolate. Cherries are divine. What’s your dessert sauce?”From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction regardless of the season or location she finds herself in.

Omelette

“You crack me up!” Benjamin cackled.

Kenneth looked his friend over as if to check for any cracks needing medical intervention.

“It’s time you learn,” Benjamin said. “How can you go through life without making an omelette?”

Kenneth reluctantly selected a recipe. He gathered all ingredients he could find and set out to cook.

Benjamin took a bite. “You call this an omelette?”

The cook wriggled uncomfortably. “I didn’t know we ran out of milk.”

“You could’ve used skim milk powder, mixed with water.”

Benjamin continued crunching, picking out bits from his portion.

“How much eggshell does this thing have?”

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna is a writer of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. She resides in Edmonton, Canada.

A Broken Glass

Flour, salt and baking powder. Margaret whips up a cake recipe as familiar as her own name. The whirring of the stand mixer comforts her.

Her mind drifts to Karl. They were late to an appointment. Brakes squeal. An impact. Karl’s head shatters the windshield.

As she pours the batter, a glass rises off the counter, picked up by an unseen hand. It hovers suspended in the air, the ceiling light fixture reflected inside.

Or is it Karl’s face?

Margaret does not move or breathe. The glass falls.

Broken shards cover the tile floor.

The glass, like Karl, is gone.

From Guest Contributor Heather Santo

The Short-Lived Joys Of Youth

When I married at eighteen,a friend gave us The Joy of Cooking.My husband, nineteen, turned every page,looked at every recipe, writing, “Yes!” “Try!”or (for his mother’s recipes) “No!”Never thinking of actually cooking something himself.I wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or flattered,but the marriage lasted about a year.

When I married at fifty-one,we compared copies of The Joy of Cooking.My husband’s was in better repair,so we gave mine to Goodwill.He likes cooking, so he does it. I wash the dishes.It’s been nine years now. We are still married.

From Guest Contributor Cheryl L. Caesar

Cheryl lived in Paris, Tuscany and Sligo for 25 years; she earned her doctorate in comparative literature at the Sorbonne and taught literature and phonetics. She now teaches writing at Michigan State University. Last year she published over a hundred poems in the U.S., Germany, India, Bangladesh, Yemen and Zimbabwe, and won third prize in the Singapore Poetry Contest for her poem on global warming. Her chapbook Flatman: Poems of Protest in the Trump Era is now available from Amazon and Goodreads.

Her Recipe

With more downs than ups, Francine realized she needed to make a drastic change. To reverse an unfulfilled lifestyle where only food seemed to delight her.

She would find a new recipe. Something appetizing. Fresh. Not too many ingredients for she wouldn’t know how to put it together. Unwanted ones not given a chance. She’d aim for excellence maintaining good judgment in taste. Leave critics aside.

After going through her closets and emerging empty-handed, she looked at a mirror and smiled. Grabbed car keys off a dresser.

She figured out her recipe for happiness.

Clothing stores were not far away.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, and Espresso stories.