The Drama Chef

Prose – Travel – Recipes

Tag: strawberry

Strawberry Coconut Parfaits

thedramachef_coco_parfait_1

This is Part III of Erica’s short story (Part I; Part II).

“Pass me the scones darling. Ted, don’t you hear me? The scones!” I gave her the white plate with the reindeer decorations with an awkward smile. “You don’t like them? I can make you something else” she said. I nodded no and started eating. The sooner this festive breakfast would come to an end, the better. Dad was not talking for a while now, avoiding eye contact with a generic soft smile on his lips. I was sure he wished he could be somewhere else too. I wondered where. Sally and Mom where talking gleefully, what will Santa bring this year, did you like the Cookies darling?

thedramachef_coco_parfait_8

Christmas. Our sad plastic tree on the corner, lit with electric lights, the ornaments scratched and outdated. Red candles on the table, stars on the napkins, glitter everywhere. Dressed in our nice clothes that didn’t fit properly anymore. Carrols on the radio. Boredom. Forced joy. Presents. Crowds in the malls. Red and golden and silver. Women with too much makeup. Men drinking too much and laughing too hard. Happy families. Kids with pink cheeks and santa bonnets. Give me a break.

thedramachef_coco_parfait_6

Read More

Erica’s Lemon Pancakes

thedramachef_lemon_pancakes_4

part I is here: Erica’s Strawberry-Vanilla Jam

She was working as a translator. Grew up in France, then moved to Spain, then Germany, now Scotland. Never met her father, her mother here and there, they don’t talk anymore. Her teeth didn’t show when she smiled. She had 7 beauty spots on her right shoulder and 3 on her left palm. She hated dogs and loved lemon pancakes.

She talked to me. She really talked to me like if I was an adult, for the first time in my life. She gave me books and CDs, she chose the movies we watched. I was holding her hand in the dark, she was grabbing my ass in the elevator. It was too good to last.

Read More

Erica’s Strawberry Vanilla Jam

IMG_3419_small

“T’es beau”. I turned my head and looked at her. Around 30-35, long, messy hair, flowery dress, leather boots. “T’es beau” she repeated, staring at me straight in the eye. My heart started racing in my chest, I was just standing there, looking at her, unable to smile or move or speak. She reached in her pocket, took out a cigarette, put it to her lips, lit it. Staring at me. No words. “A demain” she said after an eternity; she turned and walked away moving her hips dancingly.

I could not think of anything else for the whole day at school. I messed up the math test. My friends lips were moving, I didn’t hear a world. Nausea and stomach cramps. Flashes coming and going. My palms were sweating, my heart kept pounding when I tried to imagine how she smelled. What was her name? Marie, Héloïse, Anne?

IMG_3443

Read More

copyright ©2016 thedramachef