Pancakes & Pandemonium - Culinary Competition Mystery #6

Chapter 6

(Amy)

The next morning Amy felt as though she hadn't slept for more than ten minutes. It didn't help that during one of the rare times that she was sleeping, instead of replaying the argument with her mother, she'd been attacked by a rogue couch cushion. Her mother had decided to take an elementary school-style approach to express her feelings about the disagreement. She had built a precarious wall of cushions and pillows along the bottom edge of her mattress. The childish gesture became even more frustrating at 4 A.M. when the pillows toppled onto Amy and Alex.

Now, four hours later, she felt as if she'd been run over by one of the giant service vehicles that were already rumbling through the neighborhood. Tree trimmers and power line workers had a monumental task ahead of them, so they were getting an early start. Trying to get some much-needed caffeine into her bloodstream had seemed like a nearly impossible challenge to Amy when she climbed out of bed. Or, more precisely, rolled off the mattress onto her hands and knees then used the nearby easy chair to pull herself up off of the cold floor. The maneuver was neither pretty nor graceful, but it had gotten her one step closer to getting coffee.

The usually easy task of turning on the coffee maker, which she always filled with ground coffee and water before heading to bed, wasn't an option without electricity. So she improvised. A plastic bag and cast-iron skillet became a coffee grinder, along with a way to physically vent her frustrations at her mother. Thunk, thunk, thunk. Because Amy was well aware that coffee makers didn't last forever and power failures happened, she had several alternative coffee brewing contraptions in her pantry—from a French press to a single-serving, reusable filter. Since Alex needed coffee too, she'd gone with the eight-cup Chemex pour-over pot, complete with a quilted cozy to keep the precious beverage warm. It had been a birthday gift from Carla. Her best friend knew her and her coffee addiction well.

The scent of the crushed beans helped perk her up a bit, but the actual task of making the piping hot energy fortifier was a bummer. It was so cold in the kitchen that her breath was producing puffy, little clouds. What did it feel like outside?

She filled a kettle with water then bundled up in her hot pink parka and faux fur-lined slippers to deliver it to the grill on the deck in the backyard. Once that was heating, she returned to the kitchen to gather the ingredients for a quick breakfast. There was no way she could carry all of the ingredients and cookware in her arms, so she loaded it on a rolling tea cart that she kept in the dining room. The small, hard plastic wheels rumbled and thumped as she pushed it over the hardwood floor. Her mother growled and pulled the blanket over her head when Amy passed by the living room.

Outside the temperature was brisk. At least that's what Amy was telling herself while her face tingled from the gentle breeze of arctic air that was attacking her face while she moved the supplies off the cart and schlepped them to the elevated wood deck where the grill resided. She had been a Michigander her entire life and was used to cold weather. Frostbite be damned. She needed coffee and a hearty breakfast.

Soon her insulated mug was full of rich, heavenly hot coffee. A cast-iron skillet full of scrambled eggs dotted with spicy jalapeno and sweet orange peppers sizzled on the side burner. She used tongs to flip the thick slices of country bread, slathered in butter, that she was grilling until they were crispy and slightly charred along the edge.

The remaining space on the grill was occupied by a giant soup pot. Alex had a solar shower that he used when he was camping during the extreme sports adventures he liked to take with his friends. Since it was too early to use the sun to warm the water, the grill was doing the job. Her industrious hubby had already figured out how to hang the bag from the showerhead in the guest bathroom, where an electric heater powered by the generator was warming the room. He had been up before her to stoke the fireplace and refill the generator's gas tank. Alex was doing what he could to make their life more comfortable, and so was she. There wasn't much they could do about her mother's sour attitude though.