The White Queen (S.Rogers)

Chapter 49

Brooklyn sighed, as she looked at the ham. Steve had gotten a smaller one, but according to the internet, it still needed a couple of hours to cook. Not to mention the glaze. That had been... interesting. Some of the ingredients they didn't have, like Dijon mustard. So she had substituted yellow mustard, and the flavor tasted alright to her. She had also been concerned about how sweet it had been, so she had decided to not add the honey in the recipe. She had cut the rind from the ham, like the video had shown, cross cut it, and covered it in the sauce. But now came the big issue. There wasn't enough space in the oven for the ham, and the turkey, which still had another hour of cooking.

According to the time table she had worked out, she had to get the ham in the oven, now, or else it wouldn't be cooked all the way, while she worked on the sides. The mashed potatoes and the green beans were stove top cooked, so they would be among the last items to be cooked. They could be made while the rolls were warming in the oven.

She drained the last of the wine out of the bottle, into her glass, before dropping the bottle into the recycling bin Steve had set up. Apparently, recycling was a good thing, and they needed to do it. Every week, he took the recycling down to the bins in the alley, sorting them out, saying that of all the things that had happened while he had been in the ice, environmentalism was the best. He liked the idea of trying to repair the planet, and trying to keep the damage to it down. So, in addition to their small garbage can under the sink, they now had a blue bin kept by the edge of the counter. Tin cans, aluminum products, glass, and most plastics, all thrown into that bin, sorted by America's favorite son, every week.

She lifted her glass, draining it, before setting it down on the counter top, turning to the cupboard where they kept the alcohol. Not even bothering to see what bottle she grabbed, she used the wine opener to pull out the cork, filling her glass.

She turned to look at the oven, leaning against the counter, frowning. The TV softly made sound in the background, playing the parade that Steve and Juliana had gone to go see. He had kissed her as they had left, teasing her that she might see them on the screen, if she watched. She hadn't seen them, but it had been interesting, all the same. Now that the parade done, and the post wrap up happening, she was no longer interested, but at least it was noise in the background. It was odd, how quickly she had gotten used to the apartment having some sort of sound, during the day. She was rarely alone, now. If it wasn't Juliana playing or watching her cartoons, it was Steve discussing things with her, or having the news on, or one of the shows people had told him he needed to watch, or even just music.

She set the wine glass down, crouching down to open the cupboard with the pans, looking them over. Pulling out a larger pan, one big enough and deep enough to hold the potatoes, she stood up to set it on the counter. Pulling the potatoes out from where Steve had put them, putting them in the pot, eyeing how much it might make. Setting the pot aside, she picked up her phone off the counter, checking the saved recipe for the green bean casserole.

Propping the phone up against the basket that held their shopping bags, she began grabbing all the ingredients, as well as the mixing bowl, and casserole dish, and calmly began to follow the steps. She poured the mixture of green beans and mushroom soup into the casserole dish, before frowning. What the hell were crispy onions, and where did she find them? Or even better, how did she have to make them. Steve had said that all the sides were easy to make.

Deciding to set it aside for now, she moved onto the next recipe. Holding up the box of stuffing, she brought a hand up to her jaw, cracking her knuckles, as she read over the directions. It seemed simple enough. But Steve had mentioned adding extra's to the stuffing. To fill it out, and make it more flavorful.

Sighing with irritation, she set the box down, and picked up her phone, intending on texting him, but a quick glance over her shoulder at the TV, which showed the dispersing crowds, she set it back down, picking up her wine glass instead. They would be home soon, and she would dump all of this on Steve's lap. She had warned him that this might be a bit out of her range. And considering that the turkey wasn't done, and there wasn't enough room for the ham, this was going to be interesting. If Steve wanted to serve his friends an early meal, like he had hoped, he was going to have to take over.