Bad Dates and Bad Dates (Part 3 of 3)

Posted on 12 Nov 2017 @ 2:12pm by Lieutenant JG Gideon Nicols PhD & Ensign Miraj Derani
Edited on on 19 Nov 2017 @ 12:26pm

2,167 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Episode 15 - Emanation
Location: Earth - San Francisco, Culinary Institute
Timeline: MD 30, 1800 Hrs

Previously, On Bad Dates and Bad Dates (Part 2)…

"Now, take the pistachios and dates we marinated earlier, and put them in the blender to chop them up nice and small." Samia said from the front. Once you've done that, spread a thin layer on the filo. We're going to put two layers of the pistachio and date mixture, so you need to use about half." She demonstrated then moved off to check on her students.

Again, this was another easy task. He carefully poured the pistachios and dates into the blender and covered the top. He pulsed the contents, turning the whole contents into chopped up bits. It was pretty interesting to use a blender; it was something he had never really had the privilege to use before today.

Naz laid out the last layer of filo pastry, brushing it thickly with the last of the melted butter. He watched as Gideon spooned out the filling. "Are you sure you did the marinade right? It looks a bit...funky."

And Now, the Continuation…

[ON]

"Mhmm," Gideon hummed, a nod followed. "Define funky in this context?" What exactly did 'funky' mean in this context? He looked at the filling, it seemed fine but yet he didn't have any context with which to compare. It seemed... chunky, maybe?

"I'm sure it shouldn't smell that...ripe." The trill man wrinkled his nose. "Smells more like cheese than dates. What did you put in this?

Why do you assume it was me? Gideon thought, though the words were right on the tip of his tongue... which he had to clamp down on with his teeth. "The dates, fruit juice, and spice blend," he replied. Smelled like cheese? If it did, it certainly never smelled like any cheese he had ever had.

"Maybe they're supposed to smell like that." Naz hazarded. His facial expression indicated otherwise, and he layered more pastry down on top with a doubtful look, before brushing it with melted butter. They had a flash oven built into the counter, and the Trill cut the pastry then put it in the oven. It would only take a few minutes to finish the sweet.

Gideon's brow furrowed as he watched Naz complete the dessert. "If you aren't sure and if I'm not sure if that is how it smells, shouldn't we ask the teacher?" He had a feeling Naz wouldn't like that, but the Trill didn't seem like a man who dealt with logic very often. That's flighty for ya, he mused to himself.

"No." The trill squatted down in front of the oven, watching the pastries rise. "They’ll be done by the time she gets round to us. I'm sure it will be fine." The baklava began to cook then he started boiling the syrup. "Splash some Raki in there," he pointed at the bottle of spirits.

This time Gideon couldn't help but roll his eyes as he reached for the bottle. He double-checked the label and when satisfied it was what he needed, he twisted off the cap and added a splash of the liquid. It annoyed him how haphazard this was becoming, it truly wasn't that hard to pull the baklava out and have the instructor take a look. He screwed the cap back on tightly and set the bottle down from which he retrieved it. He didn't really have anything more to say about the situation. The pastry looked quite rich to him, anyway, but in hindsight it was either going to be good or bad, no in between.

The trill whisked the spirit as Gideon poured, and then set the syrup to rapid boil. After a moment or too it looked gloopy and then the oven pinged. "Grab the pan!" he told Gideon as he put on an oven mitt. Naz pulled the tray of pastry out. It looked crisp and golden and delicious. But the dessert smelled faintly yeasty and over ripe. "Okay..." he said, not sounding as confident as he had before. "Pour the syrup over it, and then that cools whilst we finish the kebab."

"Aye," Gideon replied simply. This is what happens when over-confidence and ego collide, Gideon thought to himself as he picked up a hot pad and grabbed the handle of the pan. The pastry looked okay but the smell was less than desirable. He did what was asked and poured the gloopy liquid over the pastry. It seemed too syrupy and the consistency reminded him of molasses that had congealed. He pulled a face as he poured, wondering if there would be enough to coat the whole pan. There was no way in hell he was going to try the stuff, especially now. After he finished that task, he set the pan down and out of the way and waited what he would be ordered next to do.

Naz pushed all the meat and vegetables towards him, as well as a pile of soaked bamboo skewers. "We thread it on, then grill, then eat." He picked up a piece of the replicated meat from the bowl of marinade, and pushed it onto one skewer, then he picked up a cherry tomato. He attempted to pierce the little round fruit, but he must have squeezed to hard, as it burst and spattered the Trill with tomato juice and seeds.

There was something sort of repulsive about the idea of actually picking up raw meat and threading it onto a skewer. Gideon did it, of course, mostly because he didn't want to catch hell from Naz. He had no trouble threading the meat and veggies, unlike Naz who had the experience of a cherry tomato popping like a zit. He only slightly felt bad for the other man, and with his clean hand he handed Naz a towel.

"Thanks." Naz took Gideon's skewers and put them under the grill. A few seconds under the high heat they started to char. The smell was far more inviting than the baklava.

"And so," said teacher from the front, "now you’ve cooked your kebabs, add them to the pita with salad and the dips, and dig in."

Since Naz was manning the grill, Gideon felt it would be rude to just reach over and grab the kebobs, so he waited. Everything else was prepared and ready to go and he had to admit the freshly grilled meat had smelled quite good. The aroma made his stomach softly grumble telling him that he was definitely hungry. Despite knowing that the possibility of seeing Naz again was slim, he wouldn't count this 'date' as a total bust either. "It smells incredible," he said, "I can't wait to dig in."

Naz loaded up a pitta with a kebab and handed it to him, before piling meat into his own. He took a big munch. "Mmm, fantastic. What do you think?"

Gideon took hold of the pita and gave it a once over. It looked delicious and magnificent. He took a large bite and allowed the various flavors dance across his taste buds. A soft moan of pleasure left his lips after he chewed and swallowed. He allowed a smile to cross his lips and he nodded. "It's very good, very good indeed," he replied, and then took another hearty bite.

Naz had another bite, swallowed then took a sip of drink. "Want to try the baklava while it’s till warm?" He broke off two pieces from the tray, and held one out to Gideon.

Gideon wasn't entirely confident in how the baklava turned out. The aroma still seemed... off. He wasn't much of a sweets person to begin with, but there was a part of him that wanted to try a food that he helped create. That rancid smell though still stuck with him. I'll at least try, if it's bad there is always the rubbish bin, he thought to himself. He took the piece that was offered and again the aroma it was giving off was off-putting. He took a small bite and immediately the rancid taste hit his taste buds. He wanted to curse Naz for not listening to him earlier, to ask the instructor for guidance, but held his tongue. He grabbed a napkin and discreetly spit out the contents and shook his head.

But Naz hadn't been so cautious, eating the whole piece in one go. There was a pause while he took on a decided green tinge, and then he doubled up and puked the baklava and the kebab back up, right at Gideon's feet. "Urrgh," he muttered, "What did you put in that?" Before he could even hear Gideon's reply, he was retching again.

Gideon watched as the contents of Naz's stomach got onto his shoes. He sighed and shook his head. "I put in exactly what you told me to put in," he replied, through a clenched jaw. He was not going to be blamed for this. He did everything carefully and methodically to assure that he didn't mess up. He knew they should have consulted the instructor, but Naz's ego got in the way. He handed Naz a towel. "I'm going to bring you to the washroom." He all of a sudden realized that people, including the instructor, were watching the two.

Naz stopped him. "I can manage." He turned away muttering something about terrible cooks and stumbled off to the bathroom.

The tutor came over. "Are you all right, Gideon?"

Gideon huffed a sigh and rolled his eyes as he watched Naz brush off his help and move toward the washrooms. At his name, he turned to the instructor, his arms folded over his chest. "I'm fine, my cooking mate, however, is not," he said. "He had a bad reaction to the baklava, we can't pin point what happened and why it tastes rancid." He had a bite and spit it out promptly, but he was surprised by the violent reaction Naz was having. Maybe it had to do with his physiology. He wasn't sure. "Apparently, I'm a terrible cook." At those words, he smiled, not even caring.

Samia took a tissue and piece of baklava. She quickly spat out her tentative bite. "Rotten dates, it happens with the fresh ones sometimes. Otherwise the pastry is good, the syrup not to stiff and not to runny, and its a good colour. Shame about the dates, otherwise good job."

There was a large part of him that wanted to smirk, but Gideon also felt bad that Naz was sick. The Trill had a huge ego, seemed aimless, and was a bit of a bastard, but he didn't want the man to be sick. "Thank you, Samia. We weren't sure what had happened, I'll be sure to let my cooking partner know when he returns from the washroom." In a way, he couldn't wait to tell Naz what the real issue was and a big ole I told you so.

By the time Naz returned looking slightly less green, everyone was packing up, wrapping up the last of their creations and filing out into the San Francisco night. "Ugh. Sorry about that." He wrapped his pitta and kebab in a napkin and into a doggy bag. "I don't think I'll take your baklava."

"Our baklava," Gideon corrected, deciding that yes, Naz was a bastard. He had waved off the earlier apology, simply because he didn't want to hear it. "Samia had said the dates were rotten, it wouldn't have mattered what we did..." There was some kind of silly irony in all of this. However, he was just glad it was over. "Anyway, it's been an interesting experience." Even though in his mind he considered this a bad date, there was still some awkwardness to it ending.

"Well." Naz said, as if he hadn't heard a word Gideon said. "It’s been fun. And you're cute, very cute. But I don't think you're right for me."

Gideon forced a half-smile all while screaming Thank God, in his head. It was fun, at first, and then things deteriorated rather quickly. "That's fine, understandable even," he said, extending a hand to the other man. "Good luck with your future endeavors, Naz."

"Yeah, you too," it was obvious Naz couldn't care. He grabbed his doggy bag, and headed off into the evening. Half way up the street, Gideon saw him stop and retch again.

Gideon stood there, watched Naz bend over and retch one more time. He rolled his eyes, shook his head and shrugged. Naz wasn't his problem anymore, thank goodness. "I need a drink," he mumbled to himself, and then turned and headed in the opposite direction glad to be done with this whole situation.

[OFF]

--

Lieutenant JG Gideon Nicols, PhD
Chief Research Officer

Amaran Naz
Auteur, Critic, Foodies, Zen-Master, Life Coach, Guru, and GIANT Egotist
[NPC Derani]

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