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Post by Reesa Pohr on Nov 15, 2008 5:37:15 GMT -5
September 23rd - Tuesday
Reesa mixed the ingredients by hand, the way her mother had taught her to do. She pushed the wooden spoon in circles, spinning around the room every once in awhile while she hummed a song that no one else knew. The first batch, the one without the freshly picked raspberries in it, was already in the oven, turning golden brown while the flames whipped beneath the cast iron bottom. She swayed her hips, tucked a red lock of hair that had escaped her ribbon behind her ear with a flour-covered hand. "Free-falling firecracker," she sang quietly. "Fall, fall, fall."
She set the big bowl down and added a few more raspberries, popping one between her lips as she did. She patted her floury hands on her apron and opened the oven to check on the cookies inside, still swaying her hips, still singing quietly.
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Post by Denise McCulloch on Nov 15, 2008 5:46:05 GMT -5
"Of course I won't forget to bring it." Denise rolled her eyes. Sometimes, her friends, honestly. No faith. None at all. "You need the book by tomorrow, I'll bring it tomorrow."
No, Denise didn't room in Ketteridge. But a lot of her friends did, and she spent a lot of time visiting them. When she wasn't at Sterlings every Quidditch beck and call. Or doing her school work. She hated having nothing to do. Which may have explained the case of social butterfly syndrome that plagued her. But who would ever die from having too many friends.
"See you then, Mace." With a wave she turned to head down the hall, unsure of what to do next. Maybe she'd just go back to her dorm and prod at Birdy. That could be fun.
As she made her way, a delightful smell caught her attention. The sort of smell you had to know where it was coming from. And what made it. Which is what she was going to do. Following the smell, she peeked her head into the room it came from. To spy on a girl, singing and dancing. With cookies in the oven.
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Post by Reesa Pohr on Nov 16, 2008 4:13:07 GMT -5
"And then rise!" she sang enthusiastically, swaying her hips and head at the same time as she began dropping spoonfuls of cookie dough onto a sheet pan. When it had been filled with mounds of brown and red dough, she switched songs to a pop song and started to sprinkle big grain sugar onto the top of each ball. "Wouldn't it be nice if we were older," she sang. "Then we wouldn't have to wait so looong."
A bell rang and she popped over to the oven and pulled out the sheet pan inside. The cookies were golden brown, with a nice glimmer of sugar on top. They smelled heavenly, and Reesa had to remind herself that they were going to burn her mouth if she shoved them all in there. So instead of stuffing her face, she transfered them to a wire cooling rack.
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Post by Denise McCulloch on Nov 16, 2008 4:21:29 GMT -5
Denise watch as the girl sang and danced her way to making cookies. It all looked rather fun, really. A part of her wanted to just hop in the room and join her. But that would be creepy, she had to remind herself. And people don't appreciate creepy.
So she watched, smiling a bit. That in itself was creepy, but if the girl didn't notice her it wasn't AS creepy. Atleast not to the girl.
The smell hit her again, with the new batch out of the oven. She wanted to know what type they were....And she wanted some. But it was rude to ask that. So instead she cleared her throat to get the girls attention, stepping into the room.
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Post by Reesa Pohr on Nov 16, 2008 4:29:45 GMT -5
A cute, high-pitched and genuinely surprised "Oh!" escaped Reesa's red lips and she dropped her spatula onto the top of the oven, her cheeks colouring as she realised that she was no longer alone. She patted her hands on her apron and smiled at the girl. "Hello," she said, bashful as usual. She fumbled around in her head for something to say, and then she finally spit something out. "Would you like a cookie? I was just about to make some cocoa, as well."
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Post by Denise McCulloch on Nov 16, 2008 4:35:02 GMT -5
She gave the girl a friendly smile and a wave. "Hello." Honestly hoping the girl didn't find her extremely rude for interrupting her little cooking time. Denise was about to ask her the type of cookie when she offered her one.
"Really? I was just going to ask you what kind they were. But I'd love to try one."
She really couldn't help but smile and laugh a little. It's just the kind of girl she was. It was purely habit.
"And I'd like to apologize for barging in."
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Post by Reesa Pohr on Nov 16, 2008 4:38:47 GMT -5
"Barging? Oh, no. I'm in a public place," Reesa said with a little smile. She moved around the kitchen comfortable, pulling out a kettle to start heating up milk in. When she filled it, she put it on a burner on the stove top and lit it with an antique match. She got a plate for the girl and put one of the fresh cookies onto it, setting it onto the table. "They're oatmeal, in short. I've got a batch in the oven now that have raspberries, if you fancy." She was surprised with how much she was talking to the girl. But once you got her started on baking, you'd never shut her up.
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Post by Denise McCulloch on Nov 16, 2008 4:42:13 GMT -5
"I still feel like I was interrupting. Though I couldn't help it. It smells fantastic." She grinned, heading to the cookie. It was calling her name. And who was she to deny it? Denise glanced up at the girl. "Raspberry? You've got to be joking. I think you are my new hero."
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Post by Reesa Pohr on Nov 16, 2008 4:43:22 GMT -5
Reesa giggled a bit and blushed even more. "Oh, they're just cookies. My favourite, actually." She watched the milk on the stove carefully, and glanced down at the cookies in the oven every so often. "I picked the berries myself."
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Post by Denise McCulloch on Nov 16, 2008 4:46:18 GMT -5
"Just cookies." She gave a mock puff of disgust. "Just cookies? Their very presence in this room is intoxicating. Let me tell you. They are more than just cookies."
With that she took a bite out of the one she had in her hand. If Reesa couldn't tell from the happy sound she made, she thought they were brilliant.
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Post by Reesa Pohr on Nov 16, 2008 4:48:55 GMT -5
She blushed even more, tucking a bit of floury hair behind her ear and popping chocolate into the kettle with the milk. "I've had a lot of practise," she said meekly. "I bake and I study, that's about everything." She felt extremely comfortable with this girl, though she didn't even know her name. She'd seen her around before. She was extremely pretty, Reesa had thought on several occasions.
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Post by Denise McCulloch on Nov 16, 2008 4:52:27 GMT -5
"You're so lucky you can do that. I can only wish to be able to bake." She made a slight face. It wasn't as though she couldn't cook. Fact was she could. But it wasn't gourmet. And all of her baking seemed to deflate, get spilled, or be amazingly uncooked in the middle and burnt on the edges. It was inevitable. If she had made those cookies they would be inedible. "Believe me. That is a skill to be proud of."
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Post by Reesa Pohr on Nov 16, 2008 4:54:41 GMT -5
"It's something you learn, just like potions," Reesa said with a smile. She added cinnamon to the cocoa on the stove and then stirred it up and poured an even amount into two mugs. She set one in front of the other girl and, after taking a peek at the cookies, sat down in another chair at the table with her own drink. "I wasn't born a baker, I promise."
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Post by Denise McCulloch on Nov 16, 2008 4:57:02 GMT -5
"Somehow I doubt that. I think you came out cookie sheet and apron in hand." She laughed a bit at her own joke. It wasn't extremely funny, but it made for a lite atmosphere. And those were always fun. "I'm Denise, by the way. But I really prefer it when people call me Denny."
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Post by Reesa Pohr on Nov 16, 2008 5:02:53 GMT -5
"Reesa," she said and took a shy sip of her cocoa. The bell rang again for her cookies, so she left the mug on the table and went to retrieve them. She transfered them to the wire cooling racks, shut the oven's fire off, and brought two plates, each with one raspberry oat cookie on them, to the table. She put one in each of their places and sat back down.
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