Cooking Up Christmas

‘It doesn’t have central heating,’ Esme replied.

Mark’s astonishment returned and Esme had to stop herself laughing at his incredulous expression. ‘How do you keep warm?’

‘I’ve got a log fire but I don’t know how to light it. So it’s lots of jumpers and this little four-bar fire-thing Dad gave me. I might even treat myself to some thermals.’

‘Jesus wept,’ he replied, shaking his head.

Lola sat forward and took a cup of tea. ‘I’ve been thinking about this whole cookbook thing.’ Esme worried she was going to say she’d changed her mind and now thought it all a terrible idea, or that Esme was mental. ‘I think you should start a blog while you do it and record the recipes you test.’

‘Me? Write a blog?’ Esme fiddled with the corner of a cushion. Technology wasn’t her strong point and whilst she was quite outgoing, did the world care what she had to say?

Helena brightened. ‘Lola, that’s a great idea. Esme, you should totally write a blog, you’d be amazing. And if you’re cooking and stuff, testing recipes, you could post all the ones you’re not going to use in the book.’

Esme considered this new development. Lola did work in marketing, which meant she knew more about this stuff than any of them. If she said it was a good idea, it probably was. She could start a blog with no outlay, but could she write stuff that people actually wanted to read?

‘I think that if you want to publish a recipe book,’ said Lola, ‘it’d be good for you to build your own brand first. Then you’ll be well known, or at least known, when you’re approaching publishers; you’ll have an audience ready-made for them to sell to.’

Esme pictured her name on a website with people writing kind comments about her food, then she’d be mentioned in magazines and on TV shows and soon they’d be referring to her as a blogging sensation now launching her own recipe book. Okay, so maybe that was getting a little bit ahead of herself, but if she was going to embark on fulfilling her dream, she might as well dream big. ‘Okay,’ she said, nodding. ‘Yes, I will. I’ll do it. We need a name though.’

‘You have a name,’ said Mark, teasingly.

‘You know what I mean,’ Esme replied. ‘For the blog. I can’t just call it Esme’s Blog. Even I think that’s boring and I know nothing about marketing.’

‘How about The Easy Cook?’ said Mark. ‘Don’t you say all your recipes are easy to make?’

Helena laughed. ‘No way.’

‘Why not?’

‘It makes me sound like a slapper,’ Esme cut in.

‘What about The Outback Cook?’ offered Lola. ‘You are in the middle of nowhere.’

‘Oh, no.’ Mark shook his head. ‘She’s not Australian and the back of beyond isn’t the same as the outback. People will expect recipes for kangaroo meat or something.’ Esme’s mind shot back to Joe. He’d mentioned travelling to Australia. Then he’d suddenly switched the conversation back to business. It was a stupid thing to say but he’d grown up a lot since she’d seen him last. Not just physically. He’d seemed too old in a way, weighed down almost, but then, being a grown-up did that to you sometimes.

‘Recipeasy?’ asked Helena.

‘I like it, but I think it’s taken,’ said Esme. She regarded the old furniture and the ancient kitchen, her grandma’s recipe book already sitting on the worktop waiting for her. ‘How about Grandma’s Kitchen? I’ll be using my grandma’s recipe book and you guys know how special she was to me.’ Thinking about the blog, she wanted the world to know how special her grandma had been. So full of advice and love, and with the most caring, nurturing nature. Esme had loved her with all her heart.

Esme’s friends turned to her and for a moment, said nothing, then their faces erupted in wide grins. ‘It’s perfect,’ said Mark, clapping.

Helena nodded. ‘I love it.’

‘Definitely,’ said Lola. ‘It’s just right.’

‘That’s got to be it, hasn’t it?’ Esme bounced in her seat with excitement.

‘To Grandma’s Kitchen,’ said Helena and they all clinked their tea cups as a toast. The living-room light flickered for a few seconds and Mark and Helena eyed each other.

‘Ghosts, or dodgy electrics?’ he asked.

‘Neither,’ Esme replied. ‘It’s just that bulb is a bit loose.’

Mark shook his head. ‘I do hope you know what you’re doing, Ezzy.’

Esme chuckled. ‘Yeah, so do I.’

After they finished their tea, Esme gave them a tour of the house and enjoyed watching Mark’s expression when he saw the bathroom.

‘Are you fucking joking?’ he asked. ‘Salmon and avocado? It’s like something from The Good Life.’

‘Now there’s an idea,’ said Helena, winking at Esme. ‘You could grow your own veg, keep some chickens …’

‘Great idea,’ Esme replied, suppressing a grin. ‘I could even get a greenhouse.’ Mark’s jaw dropped.

‘You could keep a goat too and make cheese. It’d all be great for your blog,’ chipped in Lola.

‘Stop it,’ shouted Mark, covering his ears. ‘I’m going downstairs.’

In the afternoon, they put their coats on and strolled around the fields in the crisp winter air, chatting about work. Esme missed the buzz of the studio and the excitement of the city as Lola told them about a play she and Eric had been to see. But as Esme breathed in the fresh, chill wind, her skin felt cleaner for its freshness and even Mark commented on how peaceful the place was. As the sky began to darken, she cooked them dinner and they ate huddled on the sofa, discussing the break-up.

‘I have to say,’ said Helena. ‘You’re doing very well, honey.’

‘I’m trying,’ Esme replied. ‘I still cry. A lot. I miss you guys though.’ She reached out and took Helena’s hand.

‘We miss you too,’ Lola replied. ‘And your puddings.’

Esme tutted. ‘I know what you’re getting at and don’t worry, I made pavlova.’

‘Yay!’ everyone shouted and Esme giggled as she went to collect it from the kitchen. She missed her friends more than she could say. They’d always been there for her, celebrating every success and commiserating with every failure. They’d helped her sell her stuff when she moved into Leo’s. She’d had to let go of her beloved second-hand furniture because Leo insisted there wasn’t room for it and it didn’t go with the sleek, minimalist style he preferred. He wasn’t one for clutter and considering she could be so clean and organised in the kitchen, Esme was rather messy out of it. Esme hadn’t minded clearing out some of her old junk, being so in love and happy, but sometimes, when she was upset, she did miss the familiarity of those old worn knick-knacks.

Even though she offered for them to stay over, her friends all returned to London that night as they had work the next day. It was only an hour and a half’s drive and she couldn’t blame them. The spare room at the cottage hadn’t been cleaned yet and was so full of stuff you couldn’t actually move. The gang had all agreed a drive back to London was better than sleeping on the sofa in the freezing cold living room. As she waved them off, Esme felt tears sting her eyes. She hoped her friends hadn’t seen them; she didn’t want them to worry. But she wished she was in the car with them returning to the sights and sounds of the city she loved. It was so alive and vibrant, and Christmas time in the city was the best. A different sort of buzz lingered in the streets. One of joy and fun, rather than focus and concentration. But standing here in the middle of nowhere, in the darkness, the trees swaying in the wind, she felt very much alone.

That night, in the silence of the house, Esme snuggled in bed. Wrapped in three layers of clothes, she shut her eyes and tried to sleep. She hadn’t slept that well since returning home. Her bedroom at Mum and Dad’s felt too cramped and claustrophobic, and here, in the open fields, Esme missed the constant hum of traffic she had grown so used to. The silence of the countryside felt heavy and dense and she tossed and turned, hoping sleep would come. When it didn’t, Esme sat up and picked up her laptop from beside the bed. If sleep proved elusive, there was no time like the present to start her own blog. She clicked on some cooking blogs for inspiration and anticipation tingled through her body. She pored over images to use, giving just the right feel of cosiness and class. She didn’t want it to look anything like Felicity Fenchurch’s awful super-cute, twee blog that was all pink with giant pictures of her face looming out at you. Esme wanted hers to be about the food, and about love.

Before long, Grandma’s Kitchen was up and running. And as the sun came up and shone through her window, she closed the laptop, the battery out, and fell into a peaceful sleep.

*

Grandma’s Kitchen

Hi everybody, I thought I’d better begin my blog by introducing myself to you! My name’s Esme Kendrick and I love, love, LOVE cooking! Sorry for using big shouty letters but I do really love cooking! I’ve been working as a food technologist on some TV shows since I graduated university, but have always wanted to cook my own food and write about it, so that’s why I’ve started Grandma’s Kitchen.

It’s named after my lovely grandma who left me her ancient and amazing recipe book. It even has recipes from her mum and grandma in it, so it’s a real family heirloom. It means the world to me, and I hope that through sharing my successes and failures with you, you’ll enjoy trying out some new recipes and begin to love cooking as much as I do.

So what more can I tell you? My grandma, Pearl, was a brilliant cook and taught me everything I know. I think that, after discovering what a liability my mum was in the kitchen, she focused all her energy on me and my sister, Alice. Mum won’t mind me saying that – she’s an amazing mum, but she never really liked cooking and much prefers a takeaway or having dinner in the pub to slaving over a hot stove. One of my earliest memories is of Mum trying to cook a sausage casserole and it going so horribly wrong that Grandma had to step in. I remember she turned this burnt, crazily spiced mess into something delicious she called Cowboy Casserole. I’ll share the recipe with you later. You’re sure to love it!

I’ve just moved back to my hometown after my life took an unexpected change of direction. It’s been a bit of a knock, but you have to keep moving forward. My dad always says never go backwards, so I’m taking the plunge and starting this blog. The recipes you’ll find here will be family-friendly (my sister insisted! She said cooking different dinners for the adults and kids would drive her insane!) and are easy to follow with no weird ingredients. I can’t wait to share my first recipe with you soon!