Stirring It Up! Read online

Dad put something light and crumpled in each of the girls’ hands. They opened their eyes to find...

  “Chefs’ hats!” exclaimed the twins.

  “Cool!” said Matthew, even though the gift wasn’t for him.

  “Actually, a chefs hat is called a loque blanche,” said Dad. “I just learned that today. They’re for you, our budding chefs!

  “Thanks, Dad,” said the girls.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, “but wait! There’s more!”

  “What else?” asked the twins.

  “Well, I was walking from the subway down Fifth Street, and I passed Park Terrace Cookware, so I went in. That’s where I found your hats. And it turns out that they’re offering cooking classes for kids. What a coincidence, huh?”

  The twins eyes opened wide. Amanda and Molly glanced at each other and tried not to laugh.

  “So, how about it, girls? Wouldn’t you like to take those classes?” asked Dad.

  “I think you should take those classes,” added Mom. “I’d feel a lot better if you did.”

  “Why?” Amanda wanted to know.

  “You’d learn how to do things safely in a kitchen,” Mom replied. “And you’d learn how to use a knife correctly, too. I hate to think how you could have hurt yourselves the other night with my sharp knives!”

  “Um, we have something to tell you,” announced Molly.

  “What?” asked Mom and Dad.

  “We were going to ask you if we could take those cooking classes!” blurted Amanda, laughing.

  “Yeah! We were hoping you’d let us, and we didn’t think you’d be practically felling us to take them,” added Molly. “We thought we could pay for the classes out of our allowance.”

  “No, no,” Dad told the twins. “Mom and I know you would like to have gone to camp this summer, and we aren’t taking a big family vacation because of all the work we had done on the house. Matthew just got his new bike, and this is our gift to you.”

  “Thank you,” said the twins together. Mom and Dad smiled.

  “We’ll sign you up tomorrow,” promised Mom.

  On the first day of cooking class, Molly and Amanda went to pick up Shawn. Molly was wearing denim capris and a baby-blue T-shirt that said “Brooklyn” on it. Amanda was decked out in an orange tank top with embroidered flowers on it and khaki cargo pants. She’d put glitter in her hair. Both girls wore sneakers, but they couldn’t have looked more different: Molly wore canvas low-tops in pine green, and Amanda wore high-tech slip-ons with plastic webbing on the front.

  “Hi, guys,” said Shawn when she opened the door of her apartment. She was wearing a short black T-shirt, lime-green capris with embroidery along the hem, and black wedge sandals. Shawn always looks so together, thought Molly.

  Amanda pointed at Shawn’s sandals, saying, “We aren’t allowed to wear sandals, remember?”

  “Oops!” exclaimed Shawn. “I forgot: ‘no open-toed shoes.”’ This was for safety reasons, in case something hot spilled, or a knife fell to the floor.

  “Come on in,” said Shawn. “I’ll change my shoes and then we can go.”

  Molly went straight for the window, which she always did when she went to Shawn’s. It had an awesome view of the meadows and woods of Prospect Park, which was one of New York’s largest parks. She could see tiny people jogging, playing baseball, and just relaxing on the grass. Beyond that she could see some of the lake, where turtles and swans and ducks lived.

  Amanda was checking out a wooden giraffe that was taller than she was. Mr. and Mrs. Jordan had brought it back from the country of Zimbabwe, in Africa. Before they’d had Shawn, they’d visited Africa a few times and brought back lots of cool things: rugs, baskets, tribal masks, and wooden animals.

  “Okay!” said Shawn, who was now wearing bright white sneakers. “I’m ready to go!”

  The girls were half a block away from Park Terrace Cookware, when Amanda suddenly said, “Uh-oh.”

  “What?” asked Molly and Shawn quickly.

  “Look who’s going into the store,” whispered Amanda. She pointed to a tall girl with chin-length blonde hair. “Natasha Ross!”

  “Natasha Ross! No way!” shouted Molly.

  Amanda flashed Molly “the look.”

  “I mean, Natasha Ross, no way,” Molly repeated in a loud whisper.

  “Do you think she’s taking the class, too?” asked Shawn.

  “I’ll bet she is,” replied Molly and Amanda at the same time. They watched Natasha wave good-bye to her mother and go into the store.

  “Oh, no,” groaned the girls all at once. This could change everything.

  None of them were in the mood for Natasha Ross.

  Chapter 5

  After a moment, Shawn shrugged. “Well, let’s keep going,” she said. “I don’t want to be late.”

  “Yeah, we can’t let Natasha keep us from taking our class,” added Molly. But her throat felt tight and her toes curled inside her sneakers.

  “O-kay,” said Amanda. She was nervously snapping and unsnapping a pocket of her cargo pants.

  The girls walked in silence the rest of the way to the store, but they were all thinking about the same thing: how Natasha had once told the principal that Amanda and Molly cheated on an important science test. The story was whispered over and over again around the school. And when Shawn explained to everyone that Natasha had lied, Natasha spread another rumor that Shawn had cheated, too.

  “Are you here for the cooking class?” asked a grayhaired man in a store apron as the girls walked in the door.

  “Yes,” said the girls.

  “Go right to the back,” said the man. “That’s where the class is.”

  “Okay, thank you,” said Shawn.

  The girls headed through the store. From floor to ceiling, it was crammed with cookware. Shiny pots and pans of every size. Muffin fins. Blenders. Food processors. Heavy roasting pans. Cake pans. Bread pans of all different sizes. There were also colorful napkins, place mats, tablecloths, and dishes. One entire wall held little gadgets such as potato peelers, brushes for cleaning vegetables, and garlic presses.

  In the back room was a kitchen so clean that it sparkled. Two rows of long tables, each with wooden tops and chrome legs, lined the center of the room. They held cutting boards, butter, one wet dish towel, one dry dish towel, and containers of kosher salt for each student. And in the middle of each table, there were a few pepper mills and bottles of olive oil for the students to share.

  Around the sides of the kitchen were a large refrigerafor, two gigantic stoves with hoods on top, and two big sinks. There was a pantry with lots of spices and glass containers full of pasta, beans, and rice. There was even a small washing machine and a dryer.

  Kids were leaning against the tables, talking to one another or just looking around. The girls knew some of them.

  “There’s David Stern,” said Shawn, spotting a serious-looking boy with glasses. He was staring at the spice rack.

  “Hey! Peichi’s here!” exclaimed Molly. “Hi, Peichi.” Molly waved at a girl who had long, shiny black hair pulled back with a headband. The twins had known Peichi Cheng since kindergarten.

  And, of course, there was Natasha, looking right at Molly, Amanda, and Shawn. Natasha was standing at the end of the first table, which the girls had to pass by. Just my luck, thought Amanda, who was closest to Natasha.

  “Hi,” mumbled Amanda, trying to sound casual. She had to say something. She watched Molly and Shawn walk away and find places at a table. Mow could They leave me alone like this? she thought.

  “Oh, hi. Molly,” said Natasha, sounding bored. Her eyes were a cold blue color.

  “It’s Amanda,” replied Amanda.

  “Oh, right,” said Natasha, shrugging her shoulders. “Whatever. What are you doing here?”

  “The same thing as you are, I guess,” retorted Amanda as she kept walking. Her cheeks were burning as she passed Molly. “Thanks a lot. Molly!” she said under her breath.

  “Sorry,
Manda,” said Molly. “But there were people behind us. We had to keep moving.” Molly’s table was full, so she motioned for Amanda to stand behind her at the back table.

  Amanda didn’t have time to dwell on Natasha, because a young woman walked in and stood at the front of the class. She was wearing her reddish-blond hair in a ponytail and a chefs apron over her pants and shirt. She was joined by a young man with short dark hair and a goatee. He was wearing a chef’s apron, too.

  “Hello, everyone!” the woman said with a big smile. Her brown eyes looked friendly. “My name is Carmen Piccolo, and I’ll be your cooking instructor. This is Freddie Gonzalez, my assistant. Welcome to class! You’re going to learn a lot. And when the course is finished, you’ll get a graduation present. See the chefs’ aprons that Freddie is passing out? When you complete this course, Park Terrace Cookware will embroider your name on your apron, and you’ll get to keep it!”

  “Cool!” said a few kids.

  “Now,” Carmen announced, “We have a lot to do today. We’re going to make carrot soup with fresh ginger, fresh pasta with a fresh tomato sauce, roast chicken with a mushroom sauce, a salad with our own dressing, and for dessert, an apple crisp.”

  “Wow!” cried Peichi, who stood at the front table. “Do we get to eat it all, too?” Everyone laughed.

  “You bet!” said Carmen with a chuckle. “‘Cause Freddie and I can’t eat it all by ourselves!” Everyone laughed again.

  “Each work station has two dish towels,” continued Carmen, “because, in a real restaurant kitchen, a chef uses the wet one for cleaning around the work station—and the dry one as a pot holder.”

  Carmen smiled again as she looked around at all the students. “Are you ready to get started?” she asked.

  “Yeah!” shouted the class.

  “Great!” exclaimed Carmen. “First, I’m going to show you some very important things you need to know starting with some knife skills.”

  “Oooooh!” cried all the boys.

  Carmen ignored them.

  “This is a chef’s knife,” she said, picking up a large, pointy knife.

  “Bring out the Band-Aids!” called one kid in the back row.

  “Ver-r-r-y scar-y!” cracked his buddy, trying to sound like Dracula.

  Carmen looked up. “It’s not scary if you know how to use it correctly” she said. “And this,” she added, picking up a very small knife with a wooden handle, “is a paring knife. We’ll be using both of these knives today. Oh, I have a few safety issues to talk about, too. Everyone, please lift up your cutting boards.”

  The kids looked at each other, puzzled. Why would she want them to do that, they wondered.

  “You’ll see that under each cutting board is a wet paper towel,” said Carmen. “That’s to keep your cutting board from slipping as you’re cutting, which would be very dangerous! I want you to always do this when you’re using knives in your kitchens at home. And never use knives without your parents’ permission. Okay?”

  “Okay,” answered the class.

  “Which do you think is safer to work with—a sharp knife or a dull knife?” asked Carmen.

  “A dull knife?” answered some kids, including Amanda. Molly wasn’t sure.

  “It’s actually a sharp knife,” replied Carmen. “That’s because a dull blade could drag and slip when you’re cutting with it. and could cut the fingers on your other hand. But a sharp blade cuts quickly and cleanly. It helps you work more efficiently. One more thing,” said Carmen. “You will not walk around this class with a knife. Get it?”

  “Got it!” answered the class.

  “However, if you’re at home, and you have a big kitchen, and you have to walk a little way with a knife—or if you’re handing the knife to someone—always hold it with the knifepoint pointing towards the floor. Your hand should be gripping the handle. Get it?”

  “Got if!”

  “Good!” said Carmen. “Now I’m going to show you how to slice.” She pulled a potato from a basket of vegetables. “The fingertips of the hand that is not using the knife should be curled down so that only the flat part of the knuckle is facing the blade. This way, your fingertips are away from the blade and they won’t get cut.”

  Carmen sliced through the potato from the tip of the knife to the bottom end. Then she guided her knife back up again in a rocking motion to the tip. She quickly sliced through the potato with the rocking motion. “Freddie’s bringing around knives and vegetables to practice on,” she told the class. “Now you try. Just try the motion of slicing first, and then practice with a potato or zucchini.”

  At first it felt awkward for Molly to curl her fingers under while her other hand sliced with the rocking motion. It all felt so slow, while Carmen make it look so quick and easy.

  “How’s it going, Molls?” called Amanda.

  “Not so well,” replied Molly, without looking up from her potato. She gripped the knife so hard that her hand began to cramp. Carmen was now walking around to watch everyone, and she stopped at Molly.

  “There’s no need to work so hard,” Carmen told her. “Your knife is sharp. Let it do the work.”

  But Amanda caught on quickly and Carmen noticed.

  “She’s got it,” announced Carmen to the class. “What’s your name, please?”

  “Amanda,” said Amanda, blushing.

  “Amanda is making this look easy and relaxed,” said Carmen. “Keep going, Amanda, I want everyone to see. Here’s another potato. Amanda is letting the knife blade do the work. And do you see how she’s continuing to move her fingertips away from the blade while moving the potato toward the knife? Excellent. Amanda. The key is to feel that the blade never really lifts from the cutting board.”

  Carmen moved on to showing how to use a paring knife. The kids practiced using a paring knife on the apples that would be used for the dessert.

  “Now,” said Carmen, “I’m going to split you into small groups of three. Each group will make part of the dinner. Some will make the carrot soup, some will work on the chicken dish, and so on. Now count off in threes, starting with you.” She pointed to Peichi. “You’re a ‘one,”’ Carmen told her. “The ‘ones’ will make the chicken dish.”

  Everyone counted off. It turned out that Shawn and Amanda ended up being “threes” together. They were in the carrot soup and apple crisp group.

  Molly was a “one.”

  Don’t be a “one,” Natasha, don’t be a “one, ”Molly was hoping as the group at Natasha’s table counted off.

  “One,” said Natasha.

  That’s just great, thought Molly. Well, atleast Peichi is in my group, too.

  “So—we’re the chicken-with-mushroom-sauce gang!” said Molly when she joined Peichi and Natasha at their table. She forced herself to smile.

  Natasha smirked at no one in particular. When she finally looked at Molly, Molly felt as though Natasha’s cold blue eyes were looking right through her. Anybody in there? thought Molly. She’s giving me the creeps!

  Luckily. Peichi was able to fill up the silence. “The chicken sounds good, huh?” she asked. “This is gonna be fun! I love to cook! I mean, I haven’t really cooked before, but I love to bake cookies and sometimes I help my dad when he cooks. Do you ever do that? I love baking brownies, don’t you? Do you ever make homemade brownies? My dad does. They’re great! I like Carmen, don’t you? She’s great!”

  Thank you, Peichi, thought Molly, as she nodded “yes” to all of Peichi’s questions. Molly had never known Peichi to be anything other than enthusiastic—about everything! Peichi didn’t even seem to notice that Natasha was looking right through her, too. Or maybe she just didn’t care!

  Freddie approached their table. It was his job to bring around everything that each group needed.

  After he learned the girls’ names, he asked. “You’re doing the chicken, right?”

  “Right!” they all replied.

  “Ladies, your chicken awaits!” said Freddie dramatically, as he brought ou
t a bundle wrapped in brown paper. “Say hello!” With that, he unwrapped the paper.

  There on the table was a whole chicken, although it was missing a few things: its feathers and its head.

  “Eeewwwww!’ cried Molly and Natasha together.

  “It’s—a dead—thing!” added Molly. Everyone heard the girls, and looked over to see the chicken.

  “Eeewwwww!’ shouted the rest of the class.

  But Peichi just laughed.

  “You’ve never seen a whole dead chicken before?” she asked Molly and Natasha.

  “Have you, Peichi?” asked Freddie.

  “Yeah, all the time! My grandparents have a grocery store in Chinatown!”

  “In the Manhattan Chinatown, or the Brooklyn Chinatown?” asked Freddie.

  “Manhattan,” replied Peichi. “They hang them in the store windows, only they’re cooked! Ducks, too.”

  “That’s right,” said Freddie.

  Carmen asked the class to watch Freddie. “He’s going to show you how to truss the chicken,” said Carmen. “That means to tie its legs back against its body. This will make it easier to handle, because the legs, wing, and neck skin will stay in one place. Plus it will just look better when you serve it.”

  Freddie unwrapped a long piece of string, cut it, and put it under the rear end of the bird. Then he looped the string around the ends of the legs, crossed it over the breast, looped it under and around the wings, and knotted it on top of the bird.

  “Ta-da!” announced Freddie.

  “Ouch!” called one of the wisecracking boys.

  “All right,” said Freddie to Molly’s group. “Let me show you what else I have for you. Some nice mushrooms. And fresh herbs. Look. This is thyme... this is parsley. This is oregano, and—smell this! Fresh basil! Hah? Isn’t it the best?”

  “Mmmm,” said all three girls as they breathed in the smell of the green basil leaves.

  “You guys have a big job, because you’re cooking the main course! I guess that means you’re special, huh? Well, I have a secret for you.” Freddie began to whisper in a loud, funny way. “It’s really, really easy to do!” He smiled. “And I’m gonna tell you a secret of French cooking. The trick with most meats and fish is to start cooking them on top of the stove, and finish them in the oven.