Q for Quesadillas
"Oof," I said as I brought the bags to the kitchen counter. George followed right behind me with two more bags, filled to the brim.
It was Mexican night at ours and we had invited a few of George and my friends over for some good, homemade Mexican quesadillas.
However, since neither of us was an expert at making quesadillas, we searched multiple recipes and decided to try them all.
It was going to be a big party anyway, so why not have extra food? Besides, the guests can take home whatever they want from the leftovers.
To achieve this, however, we had to start cooking early in the morning. Which is exactly what we were going to do now.
After a visit to the nearest supermarket, we had acquired everything we'd need for the making of quesadillas.
Tortillas, cheeses, meat, spices, as well as some tomatoes and other experimental ingredients like avocado and cucumber were lying around.
"You know," I looked at the things we bought, "if Checo were here he'd be super disappointed in us for trying new ingredients."
George chuckled: "I'm sure he wouldn't be too mad, would he?"
I shrugged: "Guess we'll never find out."
George and I got straight to work. We washed our hands and put the food away. Then we began preparing the ingredients, I put some fries in the oven while George cooked the meat.
We were each wearing a custom-made apron, one that we had decorated for each other in an F1 event in the previous year.
It was tiring, but George had stopped to put on some music, and now we were dancing while cooking.
"Here," George said, with a spoon in his hand, "try this."
I tried some of his homemade salsa and frowned: "Gosh."
"What?" he asked.
"I think you added a bit too much salt, babe."
George frowned: "What? I added what the recipe told be to!"
I grabbed the spoon and tried the salsa again, this time from a different corner of the pot. It tasted almost sweet.
I looked up at George with an annoyed look.
"What?" he asked, seeming confused.
"There's this thing," I explained, handing him his spoon back, "it's called stirring."
George's expression fell to embarrassment.
"I think you should try it," I grinned, getting back to my work.
We cooked for hours, and it seemed to go on forever.
Somehow, however, we managed.
I clicked off the stove, turned off the oven and took off my apron after washing my hands.
George followed suit, sighing loudly: "I'm never doing that again."
I laughed: "You just wait until we host Christmas next year."
George groaned and I chuckled. We made our way to the living room, sinking into the sofa.
I leaned my head onto his chest and closed my eyes, almost immediately dozing off.
Cooking was tiring.
But I could do it forever if it meant doing it with George.
*****
Hello lovelies!
Hope your Christmas feast was delicious ;)
x
Brooke
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F1 oneshots
Fanfiction"It's lights out and away we go!" ≪◦ ❈ ◦≫ Welcome to my humble collection of Formula One oneshots :) This is a safe space for all the Formula One girls out there, joining whether to watch the races for the race itself, or even just for the plot. (yo...
