Baked In Book Novels & Stories

—Aiden got all pinkish at the top of his cheekbones—“helped me come up with something you would like.” “Maybe I should go out with him.” “I would strenuously object.” She unwrapped the book and burst out laughing. It was a folio society edition of Rebecca. The restaurant turned out to be a wood cabin built on a traffic island near London Bridge. Inside, it was clean and unfussy, all grown-up shades of brown, and books everywhere—there was even one on their table, a copy of Eros the Bittersweet. And it turned out the whole deal was about telling stories through food. Which she… yeah. Cheesy or not, she loved it.

He pictured it on a Sunday afternoon. He'd been making bread — Sunday bread, the rhythm — and the bread was in its second proof, the dough risen and shaped and waiting for the oven. The kitchen smelled like yeast and flour and the particular warmth of something being made by hand, and he was at the table with the reading — the flavour chemistry text, the section on glutamates and umami, the science of why certain combinations of ingredients tasted the way they did — and somewhere around the third page he'd stopped reading and started thinking.

" I was waiting for you Emir... look you were talking to infuse Japanese flavors na, look what have I got for you!! " She handed me a rugged book.. it's pages are pale yellow, it's quite old still the words are clear.. and the recipes oh my God.. this is excessively relatable.. and then I found out dad's signature over the corner... so this is dad's book.. finally I got a masterpiece.. I gave her a bone crushing hug to clear my dilemma.. but how to talk about that girl.. " thank you so much beautiful for this!! I love it!! dad has left his legacy in this and I really am honored to inculcate his knowledge in me"

"Let's start with appetizers." June's midnight blue orbs scanned one of the hard back books that weren't open yet but laid off to the side of the desk, picking up it's title in the process; FOOD FOR ALL. Written in lowercase alphabets beneath it were the words; well detailed cook book, a must have for every chef. She reached forth and grabbed the book. Almira too lost in the book she had to notice.

Lia yelled, pulling forcefully on Bima's arm. Bima turned for one last look at the hole, catching sight of a cookbook that had fallen open to a page with handwriting he recognized all too well. His own handwriting from the future. The page bore a single sentence, "Never stop cooking, even when this world no longer has fire." Then, at the end of the collapsing crystal corridor, a massive black shadow began to crawl upward, carrying an aroma even sharper than ozone, the scent of burnt meat that had already been served.

“Mom, what do I do? How am I supposed to choose between Dante and every child in the world?” Sarah Miller stepped forward. She didn’t even glance at June—her eyes were fixed on the purple pit. “You don’t have to choose, June. Just check the books.” She yanked out the Golden Book and skipped past the recipes, all the way to the back. The pages there were full of numbers and boring rules. “Gabe wasn’t just a baker,” Sarah said, her voice ringing out. “He was a businessman. He kept every receipt.” She hurled the book into the purple oil.

“Put on a sweater, not a jacket.” I put on a sweater. On the drive she had the wine bottle in her lap, a pinot nobody would be embarrassed to bring, and a paper bag with a hardcover cookbook inside that she’d edited two years ago. The cookbook was for Estelle because, she had explained, Harrison was the cook in the house but the cookbook was for a woman. I had not corrected her assumption about Harrison being the cook. Harrison, in nine years, had never produced a meal that did not involve pasta or eggs in some configuration.

The poor dragon still thinks to this day that it was due to the excess of baking soda in the batter mix that triggered a reaction and blasted the damn machine. * Note To The Readers : Finally, the oven burning mystery has been solved and the incident is explained in ‘Chapter 5: The Truth’ in the book, "My Dragon Mate.” If you want to know more, you can read it for curiosity's sake, but not reading it will not disturb the flow of this story, so enjoy ! *

* He closed the book, put it in his pocket, and walked to the door. The corridor was empty. Morning light fell from the high windows, slicing golden lines on the floor. He stood at the foot of the stairs. Upstairs, the kitchen. Downstairs, the workshop. He chose to go upstairs. The kitchen was warm. The heat of the oven, the sweet scent of honey and the aroma of baking bread mingled together. Luna stood by the stove holding a cup of honey water. Aurelius, wearing thick gloves, pulled a golden-brown loaf from the oven. Isaac crouched by the stove, molding a lump of dough into a crooked animal with thick legs and a short tail.

"In that case, I think the pizza can wait." End of Book One: Incendiary