Idiots to Lovers (bxb)

47 | Gingerbread House

Everett

The workshop was in full swing. Nearly thirty members sat in the audience, filling up all the seats in and around the area.

"Hey folks! Welcome to our first ever baking course, or should I say, our workshop on 'How Not to Bake.' We're going to be making gingerbread today!"

I glanced at Clementine to see him chewing on his bottom lip, seemingly having forgotten his cue. I tried to catch his eye but they were glazed over, staring out at the audience. "We've already grounded all the spices we need, but when making at home you'll need to pop them in the grinder or you can also buy them pre-ground," I continued on his behalf, arranging the ginger, cinnamon, allspice, and cloves on the countertop.

Clementine seemed to feel more at easy as we—okay, he—started cracking the eggs and combining it with the sugar. Into another bowl, I dumped in a bag of flour.

I cleared my throat, reading out the rest of the dry ingredients for Clementine to measure out. "Half a teaspoon of both allspice and cloves. A tablespoon of ground ginger. Ground cinnamon, eleven-fourths of a tablespoon...well I suppose it's close to twelve-fourths so just put in three spoons of that."

"That's...odd." He craned his neck and I pointed at the part of the recipe where it was written 11/4 tablespoons cinnamon. "Everett, that's one and a quarter spoons."

I stared at it. "Is that a space?"

The audience giggled and I did a quick aside. "That folks is how not to read a recipe. Always double check your measurements!"

Clementine added the vanilla and I grabbed the bottle of baking soda. "One teaspoon of this!" I said, scooping out a big one.

"Never heap your teaspoons!" Clementine exclaimed to the audience. "Unless it's chocolate powder, of course."

They laughed even more at that and I caught his eye and grinned.

"Now it's time to add the dry ingredients to our egg mixture," I said, keeping my eyes on the audience as I tipped the bowl of flour into the beaten eggs and sugar.

"Woah!" Clementine caught the bowl as it slipped my grasp, deftly grabbing it just before it shattered on the counter.

"And if you're the kind to get distracted, make sure you have a baking buddy to help clean up any spills!" I quickly added, playing it off just as smoothly.

Everyone laughed again and someone even applauded, thinking it was rehearsed. I noticed my dad snort from where he leaned against the doorframe, clearly not buying it. He gave me a thumbs up all the same. I beamed and folded the batter.

"Mix it till it gets to this consistency." I lifted the spoon and let the smooth batter fall back into the bowl. "It should be quite thick and sticky. You're then going to wrap it up in plastic wrap and chill it in the refrigerator overnight."

Clementine opened the fridge and took out some gingerbread batter we had prepared beforehand. "You can chill it for up to three days," he advised, "before putting it in the oven."

I read out the next step of the recipe. "Preheat to 350 degrees Fahrenheit," I did some mental calculations, "which is about 220 Celcius."

"Er, you sure?" Clementine asked, turning on the oven.

"Yes," I said confidently, turning to the audience, "but you can always use an online converter on your phone." I pulled it up to show them and typed in 350 Fahrenheit. It converted to 170 Celsius.

Clementine and I stared at each other for a moment before I blurted out, "Mental calculations and guessing work are how not to bake." I looked at the audience somberly. "You guys would have burnt the gingerbread."

A kid in the front row giggled and I grinned at him. As I looked at the audience, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Rowan glowering at me. Or perhaps at both of us. He looked...unnervingly angry. As soon as I lifted my gaze to him, he turned away.

I blinked, feeling a little shaken as I turned my attention back to the recipe. "Umm...let the batter cool on the rack for ten minutes before putting it in the oven."

"Huh?" A look of confusion crossed Clementine's face. "Do you mean it should cool after?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, that makes more sense, it's already chilled." I absentmindedly glanced back out at the crowd. Rowan was gone.

Clementine cleared his throat as he closed the oven door. "Now while that's baking, we have a special surprise in store."

"Oh yes, I almost forgot," I exclaimed, all thoughts of Rowan vanishing from my mind. I went to grab it from the fridge but Clementine beat me to it, almost shoving me aside in his panic to ensure no harm befalls it.

He carefully lifted out a platter on which sat a large gingerbread house, still undecorated. The kids in the audience ooh-ed and aah-ed. "Now who would like to come decorate this with us?"

"Me! Me!" they all exclaimed, running towards the counter to get a better view as he put it down.

I got bags of smarties, jujubes, and jellybeans while Clementine did a quick demonstration on how to use the piping bags.

Icing frosted the roof like snow and smarties lined a pebble road. A Christmas wreath was created over the door with green icing, and a single red sweet made up the knob. Clementine was incredibly patient while he taught all the techniques, showing everything step-by-step. Together, they decorated the house better than I thought kids were capable of—certainly better than I did when I tried to last year.

That is, until a little girl squeezed the wrong end of the piping bag and all the remaining icing fell in an unceremonious heap on the roof.

"Oh no, I ruined it," she wailed.

"That's okay," I reassured, plucking the utensil from her sticky fingers. "Now that it's done we can finally eat it!"

A/n: I made this gingerbread house, took one picture, and then immediately devoured it.