Royally Delicious

spanish chicken with chorizo and potatoes

In addition to being Friday, today is also payday, which means we're going to have a busy day ahead. The scene from my room window is always comforting. Although Manhattan is known for being a busy district, for some strange reason, counting cars that pass by, people watching and making imaginary dialogues for them, calm me. I usually open the window for good measure, embracing the sights, sounds, and smells of the city I grew up in.

Living in a small apartment with my grandmother is relaxing and therapeutic. The small space is our sacred place after a busy day at work – sunny yellow wallpaper, wooden table tops, jars and jars of spices and condiments, a large kitchen with old pots and pans, our living area that consists only of a couch and a television set, rooms adjacent to each other, making it easier for us to call each other when needed, and hundreds of random photos and recipes either pasted on our refrigerator or framed on our walls. It's rustic, shabby, and cluttered, just the way I like it.

It's 7 am in the morning, I go to the kitchen and brew some coffee. Deborah, my grandmother, is already on the couch, with our orange tabby cat, Garfield, watching the morning news.

"Good morning, abuela." I kiss my grandmother on the cheek, handing her a cup of coffee.

"Good morning, Sofia."

As you can tell, although I pretty much lived my life here in New York, I have Latina blood coursing through my veins. My father is Mexican, while my mother is Australian. As much as I would like to inherit my mom's blue eyes, and blonde beachy waves, I got stuck with my dad's boring brown eyes and brown hair. With regards to my parents whereabouts... that's a story for another time.

"Ay, have you seen the news, Sofia? The Prince of Monaco is coming back to his hometown tomorrow after he finished his university in Oxford. What a smart chap he must be!"

"You know how I feel about royalties. Snobbish and ignorant. I don't know, to me, they don't really do anything and just live comfortably in their palaces. This prince seems like a snob too."

"Tsk tsk, Sofia! This lad has a good education. "

"I bet he's required to, and not because he has ambition for himself." I grumbled.

"A source told me he's really handsome."

"And who is this source?"

"My friend who is a far far cousin of the Prince's neighbor's sister."

"Wow. How reliable." Note the sarcasm in my voice. Still though, curiosity nipped at me. "Does he have any pictures?"

"I believe, the Prince is a private person and doesn't want pictures taken of him. He even changed his name when he went to Oxford for safety measures."

"He's probably ugly because he doesn't have pictures online."

"Sofia Isabelle Santos! Don't be judgmental!"

"I mean, isn't that ridiculous? Hey, abuela, what if he's actually not real? Like, the royal family just wanted the public to know that there is one, so that they have the palace to themselves? What if there's no real heir and it's all like a conspiracy theory or something?"

"He's real, okay? The royal family doesn't have time to play games with us! Now come on, let's go to the market."

I shrugged my shoulders, switching the TV off, and changed into my 'market' clothes. An old T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. I twist my hair into a bun, and take our Eco bags with us.

The market place is a sight to behold! It's a few minute walk from our apartment and restaurant, so it's really convenient. The town market is our favorite place to buy ingredients for the day, because the produce comes in fresh daily. Plus, my grandmother is an expert haggler, so we get good ingredients for good prices.

"What's the menu for today, abuela?" I asked, while inspecting the vegetable rack.

"What do you suggest, hija?" She asked back, looking at the fish displayed in the mini aquarium.

"What about... Spanish Chicken with Chorizo and Potatoes?" Looking at the beautiful chicken cuts from our usual vendor.

"Brilliant! And for dessert? Something light, because our main course is heavy."

"How about fruit tarts? It's refreshing as a dessert." I suggested.

"I can now die without worrying about my restaurant."

"Abuela!"

"I'm kidding!" Deborah beamed at me and proceeded to look for ingredients for the fruit tart.

After gathering our ingredients, we went back to Cocina Santos, our Spanish restaurant, to prep the ingredients. I preheated the oven to 220°C, before oiling our roasting tins. As Deborah prepares the dough for the tarts, I started slicing the potatoes, onions, sausages, and the chicken.

Chicken thighs. Chorizo Sausages. Olive Oil. Potatoes. Red Onions. Oregano, Orange Zest ... Delicious, but there's something missing.

Looking around the kitchen, I grab my notebook with my ingredient glossary, what could it be? As if she read my thoughts, Cass came in with a bottle of white wine on hand.

"Sorry, I'm late! My mom just came back from her vineyard in Florence, and gifted me with this wine! It's so good, I had to bring some for work –"

"Cass, you are a genius!" I interrupted her with a bear hug.

"Woah, okay! I know you miss me, but it's been less than 24 hours since we saw each other..."

"Give me the wine."

She hastily gave the bottle to me, and I took a whiff. The smell is elegant and creamy – like a freshly picked lemon from its tree. This will be perfect for the chicken!

Splashing a few spoons of wine on the chicken before popping it inside the oven, I went outside to prepare the tables with silverware and table clothes. Cass just came back from the florist, with pink, orange, and yellow gerberas and a few red roses as well. She's our professional flower-arranger, if there's such a term, and she started arranging the flowers in our colored mason jars, and putting it on the center. Cass is also managing our front door operations, so she's the one ushering the customers to their tables, and the reservations.

The timer went off, and I went back in the kitchen to take out the kitchen. Smells heavenly! Deborah is finishing the starts with strawberries and raspberries, before placing it on the display case.

"You ready for service?" Cass shouted from outside.

Deborah and I look at each other with a smile.

"Ready!"

**

I hope you loved reading this chapter as much as I loved writing it!

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