potlucks and guinea pigs

She was high on confidence after her recent success in the realms of culinary skills. An art, rather. Or so she thought! Now that she had got a chance to put her art at work at the next valentine potluck, she was going to make them lick their fingers.

Today was the big day, she thought as she stirred the batter and rubbed her hands on the month old filthy dark apron. She herself had chosen the apron - a checkered, dark colored one, designed with curves instead of corners. Its beauty was that it never looked dirty. "Amazing choice!" she complimented herself.

A pinch of cinnamon, followed by a handful of cilantro went flying into the white batter from her small and creasy hand. She already had the oil come to a crackling boil with some finely chopped scallions and thick paste of garlic browning inside the pan. It was pretty warm inside, she mused, a stark contrast to the climate outside which was a calling for skiers. And as she finished her thought, a drop or two came dribbling down her inquiring forehead and disappeared into the foray of spinach resting on the cutting board -another dark beauty- albeit, unbeknownst to the rising chef.

Cold was so annoying she gathered while she tended a zillionth time to her ailing nose with a tissue and her wands involuntarily wandered for a quiet rub on the apron . She was missing something. She wondered what. "Ah! ", she went when she saw the missing piece of the puzzle - salt - even as she missed to wash her hands.

She stood admiring the final outcome - a two-hour of exacting work mixed with some well-weighted ingredients and more. "Everyone's gonna love it!", she exclaimed as she put down the spoon back into the beautifully decorated dish after tasting.

And she was right! She would win the 'Healthiest Dish' award to prove it.