Harp's Manor

INSTALLMENT XXV

August 25, 1928

I don't know how she managed to do it, but with just one pan of eggs, Bridget nearly set the entire kitchen ablaze. I'm not surprised, to be clear. Just rather disappointed.

Bridget woke me up early on Friday, dragging me down to the kitchen before I remembered what she was excited about. She was babbling on about how her mother had shown her how to make pancakes or something of the sort, and how much she wished to recreate them. "Perhaps it's best you stick to the cookbooks," I suggested wearily as she bounced ahead, tugging on my arm.

"Oh, but Rosie, they taste so good, I can remember that, really!" she exclaimed. "And my memory's like a steel trap, you know; I'm sure they can't be that hard to make; it's pancakes, after all. And maybe we can reference the cookbooks a little, but I don't want to, if I'm being square with you. They're probably all dusty and boring and old, and they'll make me sneeze because of all the dust on them. You know, what is dust, really? I've never really understood it all that much, Rosie. Where does it come from? I suppose it might just be the flour they use that gets all over it, but I'm certain that the dust that gets all over my lipstick can't be flour, you know, that would just be silly. I think it's probably just all the dirt in the air, you know; there's dirt floating all around us right now, I bet. They clean the carpets the best they can, but there's always going to be dust in the air. But don't think about that too hard now, Rosie, because we're making pancakes, and that just makes them sound so unappetizing! All right, enough beating my gums, let's get to the kitchen, and quick. I don't want them to change their minds, you know. I wonder if they would? Oh, I hope not, let's hurry!"

We burst into the kitchen unceremoniously, likely frightening the chef into near palpitations. "I'm here!" Bridget announced. "And it's pancake time!"

The chef glanced at me with a clear expression of surrender. "Of course, Miss Burgess," he said. "Do you require any assistance?"

"None that Rosie can't give me! Come on, let's get this started. Lord, it's been a while since I've cooked. This is so exciting!"

The chef bowed his head and retreated further back into the space, whispering to me as he did so, "Make sure she doesn't destroy anything."

Bridget was already flying around the kitchen, swinging open every shelf and pulling out every drawer, supposedly looking for ingredients. "Where is everything? Here's some forks and spoons, I don't need those yet; some measuring-bowls, but I don't know what I'll need; oh look, some cute little cups! You use these to measure sugar and stuff, I think. Yes, I'll need these. And here are some spices- my, that's a lot of spices. Why are there so many spices? What do you use them for? And what's the difference between each of them? I don't think I'll need any of these- well, don't they put salt and pepper on everything- maybe I'll need some of that. What's this? Paripka?"

"You don't need paprika for pancakes," I said, taking it from her hand and putting it back on the shelf. "And unless you want some very flavorful flapjacks, I wouldn't use pepper, either."

"Well then what's the salt for?"

"You use salt when baking nearly anything. Are you sure you remember this recipe? I can ask the chef for a cookbook if you're not sure-"

"No, I'm fine, Rosie," Bridget said, hugging it tightly. "I'm perfectly capable of making this myself, no cookbook needed. Besides, it stifles creativity, you know, following directions word-for-word. Well, at least I have the salt, at least. Oh! I know. We'll need sugar. You need sugar for everything, really. It's one of the essential food groups, I've heard. Or at least one of the main powders, or whatever they're called. It's right up there with flour, is my point. Where is it? Wait, I think this is flour- oh, ack, this is flour!" She coughed, waving the rising plume of dust away from her face. "How do you work with this stuff? Lord, I can barely breathe. Get it away from me. Yes, I'll set it here. We'll keep it in the jar, for sure; maybe you can do that part, Rosie. Ack! Lord, it looks like I just powdered myself, doesn't it? Never mind. Where's the sugar? It should be in here."