What's Cooking Read Online Free

group she was with and was now standing beside Sarah, taking in not only the mess all over Sarah, but also the smattering of white blobs all over the counter and up the side of the cupboard.
    Mitchell swished the electric mixer behind his back and grinned. “Nothing.”
    Carolyn bent her head forward, closed her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You need to turn the mixer off before you lift the beaters out of the bowl. I really think you should switch to the more basic class on Thursday nights, Mitchell.”
    He shook his head. “No! I’ll get the hang of this.”
    She sighed, which he thought rather endearing. She returned to the front, and Mitchell listened intently as she described how to properly dice the vegetables, which ones to chop finer, and recommended different types of knives and cleavers for the different jobs and techniques.
    Mitchell now knew more than ever that he was in over his head. Besides the cutlery he ate with, he only owned one knife, and he didn’t know the difference between it and any other. It had never mattered before.
    When they were done, each group sampled the others’ creations. Everyone else’s radish roses and fruit carvings looked nicer than his, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to decorate; he only wanted to serve good food and to say he made it himself.
    He glanced up at the clock. Time never passed so quickly when he was at work. Yet they had finished their second lesson. Only five lessons remained before Jake and Ellen’s wedding rehearsal, and he couldn’t see himself being anywhere near ready to serve the kind of food he’d proudly told his family he would make.
    Being the tallest in the group, Mitchell volunteered to do what he did best in the kitchen—putting everything away in the cupboards no one else on his team could reach.
    Once more, he glanced to the front of the class at Carolyn, at the display table with all her perfect samples. They emphasized how pathetic his creations had turned out. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but whatever it was, time was running out and he had to act fast.
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    In all the time she’d been teaching, Carolyn had never been so relieved to see the end of a class. She dismissed everyone and busied herself with tidying up her work area. Everyone headed for the door except, to her dismay, Mitchell. He approached her, stood directly at the table in front of her, planted his palms firmly on the surface as she worked, and leaned forward, giving her no choice but to stop what she was doing.
    â€œI can’t do this,” he said, waving his hand over her display of cut fruits and vegetables. “I need remedial help.”
    â€œRemedial help?”
    â€œI peel carrots at home, but I certainly don’t cut them into these fancy curly things. I really have to learn to do this stuff. Could you give me extra lessons during the week? I’m desperate.” He grinned a cute little boyish grin that emphasized his charming dimple.
    Carolyn nearly choked. She couldn’t imagine why he was so adamant about learning to prepare fancy hors d’oeuvres or finger foods, and especially the delicate procedure of food decorating, when she doubted his ability to cook even a basic meal.
    She continued to stare back at him across the table. If he needed help improving his basic cooking skills, it wasn’t like she had anything better to do. Except for Wednesday night Bible study meetings, her evenings and social calendar were embarrassingly bare. She often assisted graduating students in acquiring basic cooking and home management skills, but Mitchell wasn’t a student. He was a grown man.
    She opened her mouth to decline, but before she could get a word out, he pressed his palms together, widened his grin, and opened his eyes even wider. “Puh-leeeeze?” he begged.
    Carolyn folded her arms in front of her chest and openly glowered at him. In