“These are Jamaican patties,” Canon explained. “There’s a place in Jamaica that we always go to for ours called Tastee Patties, and I swear I could live on them for the rest of my life. The last time Mom went home, she brought back a couple of boxes of them frozen for us, and we want to try and make ours as good for the restaurant. The problem is, nothing’s ever going to be as good as a genuine Tastee Patty, but we want them to be as close as possible.”
Looking between the plates, I had to squint to see the differences between them. “Which is the original and which is the fake?”
“That’s the true test,” Bond sighed. “We can’t tell you and Cason which is which, because we want to see if you can tell.”
Pulling his arm out from behind him, Canon dangled two lengths of silky, black fabric in front of us. “That’s where these come into it.”
“Hey, look, man,” Cason held his hands up in front of him. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I don’t get off on being the blindfolded one.”
We all turned to look at him at the same time, making him take a step away from us.
“It was a joke!” When we all continued to stare at him, he snapped, “It was. Fine, just fucking blindfold me already.”
Passing one of them to Bond, I caught the moment Canon put his over Cason’s eyes before my own was put in place. Fortunately, I could still hear it when Cason chuckled, “You kinky little bastard, you.”
The differences in taste between the two weren’t blatantly obvious, but the blindfold ended up helping me spot some of them immediately. There was no doubt I’d have to take some of my emergency medication for my stomach, and I could have said no as soon as they were brought out, but the smell really was too good.
The question was: was it the Tastee Patty that smelled the best, or the Kleins one?
I reeled off my feedback after I’d taken a second bite of both of them. “Number one has too much turmeric and curry powder in the pastry and isn’t as fluffy as number two. Maybe add a bit more butter and make sure the water is ice-cold when you add it in. The meat needs a little bit more paprika, and thyme added.”
Cason made noises of agreement before adding his own. “Also, I’d change from normal ground beef to one of the five percent fat versions. The stuff in my first patty was less… uh….”
“Fatty?” Canon suggested, sounding amused by Cason’s inability to find a word.
“That’s the one. And try making a homemade stock for the meat to simmer in instead of premade. I know you need to make the meat as dry as possible for the pastry, but the second one tasted a bit richer than the first.”
My blindfold was removed, and I turned around to see the chef called Albert, Canon, and Bond, staring back at us now.
“We don’t know how you did it, but you’ve both hit on what’s wrong with our version of the patties,” Canon murmured, looking down at Albert. “Think you can fix that?”
He nodded. “I was using cold water, but Heidi’s suggestion makes sense. I also agree with what they’ve both said about them and have written it all down.” Looking over at us, he asked, “Y’all free on Friday to come and try them again?”
Although I’d picked up on the differences between them, that didn’t mean the ones he’d made were inedible or disgusting in any way. In fact, I’d thoroughly enjoyed them, and if I hadn’t had to make a comparison, I’d have been in food heaven finishing it off.
“Absolutely,” we both replied at the same time.
“You can use the kitchen on the same day, if you want,” Bond suggested. Seeing my frown, he guessed what my issue was immediately. “Bring my little buddy with you. It’ll be easier for her to get around now that her ankle’s better, and I’ll get Mom to come in and help out, too.”
Gloria was a frequent visitor to my place now and had even begun helping me out with the cakes. The only annoying part of that was she wouldn’t accept any money for the work she was doing for me.
Just this morning, I’d come down from getting dressed to find her and my mom both taking the drying fruit out of the machines and putting the boxed chocolate shards in my spare refrigerator. Given how much demand there was for my cakes, the extra hands were like gold dust for me. I just wished they’d let me pay them.
Having her there to look after Nemi while I worked with Cason would be amazing. I couldn’t ask my mom because she worked on Fridays, and Dad was busy putting together an outhouse that’d become his office, so he was out, too.