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She checked her ingredients were all at hand one more time and then carefully began building the dish.  It was his favorite.  She hadn’t known that the first time she’d cooked it for him.  She hadn’t bothered with a recipe that time.  Cooking had always come naturally to her.  She liked tinkering and seeing how flavors came together.  The problem with that being she could never quite recreate the same meal.  Nothing ever turned out exactly the same twice. 

For the current meal, though, she needed the recipe.  Well, she needed part of it, anyway.  The food part she had down.  The spell part was what she needed help with and kept checking over and over to make sure she got it right.

She hummed a little tune while she stirred and blended in the ingredients, checking the temperature, checking the spell, stirring, stirring.  This meal had to be perfect.  It was time.  It was time for him to be fully hers.

Glancing at the clock she saw she still had plenty of time to bring it all together.  She kept stirring.  Kept double checking the lists and the steps.  Kept humming that little tune.

Then the final ingredient went in.  It disappeared instantly in the cheesy sauce, swirling among the noodles, carrots, potatoes.  The smell of it was divine.  It wasn’t the same as it’d been the first time she’d cooked for him.  It wasn’t supposed to be.  This was something more, something better, something magical.

She smiled a little mischievous smile.

“As they say, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

This One Time in College

Have you ever had a culinary disaster? Of course you have. We all have at some point. Today I made my first visit to the Domestic Disaster Diary to talk about something that happened to me in college. Go check it out, click the follow button, and get ready to read some great tales of culinary and crafting woes.