The Ingredients for Happiness

Chapter 4

Grandpa’s Focaccia

Ingredients:

1 sachet of yeast

1 cup warm water

1 tsp salt

1 tsp sugar

Sprinkle of fennel seeds

1/3 cup of olive oil

3 ½ cups of Tipo 00 flour

What to do:

Place warm water, salt, sugar and yeast in a bowl. Mix and allow to sit for fifteen minutes.

Add your flour, fennel and olive oil and another dash of salt for more flavour.

Allow to rise for at least an hour, covered under a tea towel and in a warm spot. (Grandpa sometimes placed near radiator.)

Roll out. (You can use a rolling pin or just manipulate it with your hands to make your rectangle shape and prod with your fingers to flatten it. No harm getting stuck in and it makes it more rustic.)

Cover with tea towel on baking sheet for twenty minutes, drizzle with a touch more olive oil, then bake at 180 degrees for 20–25 minutes, until crisp and golden.

When they had returned from Italy in the New Year, Amanda had been a ball of energy – a woman on a mission and a force to be reckoned with. She and Dan had buried themselves in newspapers and estate agent windows, as well as tirelessly wandering the streets of Manchester looking for the perfect location for her café. She was now standing in front of that perfect location, terrified of going inside.

The paperwork had been straightforward, though Amanda had certainly been glad of Dan’s presence. As was the case with her blog and social media, she wasn’t one for reading the fine print, editing, or patience – she just wanted to get in and create her vision. But once the paperwork had cleared, Dan had joined Sabrina and the boys back in LA and Amanda was left to face the task of building a café from the ground up, with no previous experience, knowledge, or known skills when it came to flooring, shop-fitting or that of plumbing or electrical matters. Her dream had quickly turned into a shambles.

The door creaked open and she made a mental note to remember to get WD40 on it sooner rather than later. She stepped over the threshold with her eyes closed and breathed in the smell of plastic and a subtle burning scent. ‘Oh god, what’s that?’ she said out loud. She flicked the light switch and opened her eyes, but nothing happened. When she flicked it again, she heard a click and a hiss and the wire that was dangling from the ceiling sent out a spark. She quickly pulled her phone from her pocket and turned on its flashlight. Newspaper covered the floor in addition to a layer of dust, and the plastic-covered tables and chairs were piled high to one side. The newly painted walls were splotchy, with paint having made its way onto the skirting boards and light fixtures. The place was a mess.

‘Okay Amanda,’ she told herself, ‘you have to fix this. When the electrician comes today, he needs to know that this won’t do, and that you need your kitchen up and running this week.’ She carefully treaded over the newspapers to put her bag down on the bar, still using her phone for light when it started ringing. Her dad’s name appeared on the screen.

‘Hi Dad,’ Amanda answered, as chirpily as she could. ‘How are you?’ She went to lean on the counter but thought better of it with the dust and grime present in a thick layer, so instead hovered by it awkwardly.

‘Hi sweetheart. I wanted to check in on the work at your café. How’s it looking? Do you need any help today?’ he asked. Amanda could hear the pride in his voice when he said, ‘your café’ and she didn’t want to let him down. The girls had been lucky, growing up with parents who supported them in all they wanted to do. Amanda wouldn’t have travelled the world, exploring exotic cuisine or completed her strenuous placements in restaurants over the years if it wasn’t for their encouragement and belief in her that she could do it. Now, with no job and Jeff having tainted her reputation, this café had to work. She wasn’t just doing this for herself and her career, she was doing this for her family.

‘Everything’s fine thanks, Dad. I’ve got it all under control,’ she gulped, looking into the gloomy abyss. He had already helped unload the furniture earlier this week, which he had done with a smile on his face, but Amanda hadn’t missed his occasional pauses where his hands rested on his lower back, while he took in deep breaths, pain crinkling his eyes. He wasn’t as young as he looked and when Amanda had rung her parents’ house at 7 p.m. that evening to thank him once more, her mum had answered and told Amanda she would pass on her message in the morning when her dad woke up. The day had wiped him out. She couldn’t do that to him again. ‘Have a good day, Dad, and I’ll keep you posted,’ she said, ending the call. She glanced around at the dark and dreary shell of a café and then down at her watch.

‘Okay, so the electrician will be here any minute and I’ll just text the decorators and ask when they’ll be coming back to do another coat and final touch ups and clean the sockets and skirtings, then everything really will be fine,’ she said. She walked over to the bay window and rolled up the matte gold blinds that had recently been put in, just enough to let some light in but not enough for onlookers or paparazzi to get a good look. San Francisco Beat were a big deal – the media had already sniffed out Dan’s scent while he was visiting and helping her look for a place.

Thinking of Dan made her pulse quicken but her stomach sink. She missed him like she’d never missed anyone before, and she wished he were with her, making this task feel less daunting than it was. But she understood his work; she knew his life was his band and it made her happy to know that he was living his dream. She had to admit that it felt different now though. He’d been gone three weeks and the distance and time difference had thrown her for a loop. Had it been this difficult to stay in touch when they were just friends? Anyway, she couldn’t think about that right now. She had to get her own dream back on track. Another crackle and spark jolted her from daydreaming of Dan, and she turned abruptly to see that it came from one of the plug sockets by the bar. ‘Any minute now, the electrician will be here,’ she repeated to herself. ‘Any minute now.’

*

The minutes turned into hours. It was now three in the afternoon and thankfully the day was still bright; the sun high above the houses, enough to cast a glow on her café, so she didn’t have to sit in the dark. Amanda was sprawled out on the cold unfinished floor, covered in dust and muck, feeling pretty useless and no longer caring about the state of her clothes. She had been waiting for the electrician since eight o’clock this morning and he still hadn’t turned up. She had received no reply from the decorators, and they were not answering their phone. She was feeling sorry for herself, missing Sabrina’s efficiency in a situation like this and replaying her conversation with Louisa from weeks ago, still feeling gutted that her little sister wasn’t going to make it to her café opening.

This wasn’t like her at all and she hated herself for acting even remotely defeated. Grandpa would be having none of this. If he was here, he would be busy bustling around, making sure everything was done exactly the way he wanted, even if that meant doing it himself. Nothing would interrupt his vision, Amanda thought. With opening day looming in a little over two weeks, she could simply not afford to be sitting on a dirty floor when there was food to be ordered, staff to hire and ‘Electricity for Dummies’ to purchase. By the end of the day she would know how to rewire a light fixture; just because she was a chef, didn’t mean she could not or should not teach herself a bit of electrical DIY. Knowledge was power, her Grandpa would say, and she wasn’t going to let anything stand in her way of whipping up plates upon plates of rich sea salt focaccia to get the neighbours talking.

She jumped up and headed to the door.

*

‘How’s the café coming along?’ Amanda’s face beamed as Nikki’s voice came down the line sounding cheerful. It helped to keep Amanda’s spirits high – either that or she had inhaled more paint fumes than one should. At this point she couldn’t be quite sure, she had been painting all afternoon, having dared to roll up the blinds and let the sunlight illuminate the café. She didn’t quite have Louisa’s creative streak or flare for design, so she had prayed to the painting gods that the walls would not be a complete tragedy when she was done.

But at least the paint was pretty, Amanda thought to herself, as she gazed at the white walls that glittered with gold specs in the flickers of the fading sunlight. She considered Nikki’s question. It felt good to hear Nikki’s voice. Amanda had met Nikki in San Francisco; she had been the one to officially introduce Dan to Amanda and the one to take Amanda under her wing during her time there. They had kept in touch over the years and Amanda hoped to visit her again one day. She had loved San Francisco and Nikki’s feisty attitude, big heart and love of cooking.

‘Oh Nikki, I know it’s come a long way since we started the whole process a few weeks ago; to think we have floors and furniture, a kitted-out kitchen and no holes in the walls now! But I’ll be totally and completely not a monster anymore if we can just get this electricity sorted,’ Amanda said, with a squint of her eyes as she wiped at her brow. She hadn’t meant to be naïve, but she hadn’t accounted for the hiccups. Amanda often saw the big picture and that big picture ninety-nine per cent of the time revolved around the food; thinking about the recipes, when could she go buy the food, when she could start cooking the food, when she could start eating the food and when she could start serving the food. Stopping the process to take pictures or deal with shoddy painters and unequipped electricians was not part of her game plan.

‘I get it hon,’ Nikki started, ‘I’m insanely proud of you, you know,’ she finished with a thoughtful sigh. Amanda plonked herself down on the floor, for fear of leaning on anything and breaking it or smudging it. ‘Thanks Nikki,’ she whispered, feeling grateful to have Nikki on the line. She missed her terribly.

‘How are things over there? How’s the café doing?’ Amanda asked. She thought about Nikki standing behind the counter at Bruno’s, the café that her dad owned and that had been in her family for generations. Amanda’s mind flashed back to the day she first laid eyes on her. Nikki was standing behind the very same counter she was right now at the other end of the phone, with her gorgeous mauve lips, perfect eyebrows and a welcoming beam, and Amanda’s world was forever changed. Nikki became an instant best friend, with their matching passionate attitudes and love of early mornings in the kitchen. She introduced Amanda to all the best food spots Frisco had to offer, allowed her to help at Bruno’s and bake alongside her in their famous kitchen. Amanda had to admit that Nikki got the most brownie points for having introduced her to Dan. Thank you Nikki. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Amanda’s brain sung to itself in a quiet tune. Amanda couldn’t help the smile that curved her lips and reached her eyes when she thought about meeting Dan.

Dan had been playing in Nikki’s café that day, his voice having stopped Amanda in her tracks when she walked into Bruno’s. When he had taken a break from his set, he had made his way over to the counter and after overhearing Amanda rave about the hot chocolate Nikki had served up for her, Dan had requested one of the same. He had then proceeded to talk to Amanda and the moment he did so there had been an invisible string that tied itself around each of their hearts, deeming them inseparable. Granted, him being from San Francisco and Amanda from Manchester, they had of course been physically separated over the years, but that hadn’t stopped them talking on the phone every single day thereafter; bar a couple of months last year when she broke that record when trying to understand her feelings for him. She had eventually figured out those feelings and now her relationship with Dan was more than she ever could have dreamed. Nikki’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

‘Everything’s great thanks, babe. Busy as ever and four years later, your Biscoff cupcakes are still flying off the counter. I still get people asking about you. They want to know where our boy has got to, too,’ Nikki said, a hint of mischief in her tone. ‘Speaking of which, are you keeping him out of trouble?’

Brushing her forefinger over the layer of dust that covered the floor, Amanda hadn’t realized she had absentmindedly been drawing hearts as Nikki spoke. She cleared her throat.

‘He’s great …’ Amanda’s voice sounded wistful; it often did this where Dan was concerned. It was never intended, but without warning her independent bravado turned to mush while her heart melted at his name. It was worse when she missed him too. No matter how hard she fought it, she pined for him when he was away. She was missing a piece of herself and had to keep her mind active and focused, so it didn’t drift off, always thinking and searching for its missing piece. It hadn’t helped that since he went back to LA, they hadn’t been able to speak much. She understood that being free agents meant a lot of work and pressure for the boys, though it was odd for Dan not to reply to messages within ten minutes or for them not to catch up on the phone before bed. She tried to put a stop to her worries and getting the café up and running had been a wonderful, if not stressful, distraction. She didn’t want to burden Nikki with her unwarranted thoughts. She didn’t want to sound ungrateful. Dan had spent Christmas with her, and they had enjoyed an amazing few weeks here in Manchester together, but she knew he would have to get back to work and that things would be extra busy with San Francisco Beat as they prepared to sign a new record deal. Her brain needed to cut him some slack. Thankfully Nikki pulled her out of her thoughts.

‘All this time, I still can’t believe it. You do know I called it that day in the kitchen? You do remember, don’t you? I think your exact words were ‘ewww’,’ Nikki said. Her attempt at a British ‘ewww’ and the memory itself caused them both to howl with laughter. Amanda had indeed said ‘ewww’ when Nikki suggested her and Dan being something more than just friends.

‘Don’t you start!’ Amanda managed through chuckles. ‘I get told “we told you so” at least twice a day from my sisters, I don’t want to hear it from you too,’ she finished, mock-serious.

At that moment there was a loud bang on the door that scared the life out of Amanda. She jumped and very nearly sent her phone flying across the room. She shot to her feet and spun round, squinting to try and make out the figure behind the blinds. It was 5 p.m. – who could be knocking at 5 p.m.?

‘I bloody hope that’s the electrician,’ she said, trepidation in her voice as she tip-toed ever so carefully to the door. It had been a few days now since any reporters had come knocking, but the week that followed her and Dan’s initial visit saw paparazzi hovering nearby, some even knocking on her door and bombarding her with questions. Amanda had kindly sent them away. She hadn’t wanted people to see inside her café. The pressure of making everything perfect was enough without the hassle of flash photography and nosey parkers, and she could do without the likes of her old work partner, Jeff, knowing the ins and outs of what she was up to. He had already tried to sabotage her once before.

‘I’ll stay with you until you see who it is, hon,’ Nikki said gently.

Amanda rubbed at a smudge on the glass before she heard her dad’s voice chatting with what could only be an electrician – if his bold red van that had ‘Frank’s Electrical’ scrawled across the side, was anything to go by. Amanda let out a breath and removed the latch on the door before turning the key in the lock to let them in, while Nikki remained on the line.

‘Hi Dad,’ she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek as he came through the door. She very nearly repeated the process with the electrician, before remembering she had never met him before. No matter how Italian she was, she somehow didn’t think Frank would appreciate that. She felt her cheeks burn red as she stepped away from him, just slightly awkwardly. Catching his eye, he smiled a handsome smile. He didn’t look like a Frank. His face was young, bearing some fluff. His hair was black, longish and his hands were strong as he shook hers. Amanda felt like she was hallucinating. What was her dad doing here and who was this electrician?

‘I take it you haven’t been kidnapped? The café been ransacked? Or have the cameras just turned up for your new reality TV show?’ Nikki’s voice almost gave Amanda whiplash, as she quickly snapped back into the present, turning her head away from Frank.

‘Just taking this call,’ she shouted to her dad as she stepped into the chilly February evening. How long should one stay in a newly painted room? she asked herself, wafting the breeze in her face with her hand.

‘Sorry Nikki, it was just Dad and Frank. Sorry, an electrician, Frank. Though he doesn’t look like a Frank or an electrician, mind you. He looks like, well, I don’t know what he looks like.’

‘I don’t believe it, you’re swooning over this Frank?’ Nikki said, with a comical, flabbergasted laugh, that made Amanda roll her eyes.

‘I was absolutely not swooning over Frank,’ Amanda said defiantly, mock-offended, but taking in a deep breath as she did so. She hadn’t realized just how antsy she was when it came to the thought of reporters and paparazzi hovering at her door. Amanda wasn’t usually phased when it came to speaking to new people, but even her strong nature could take a beating from reporters trying to stir rumours, asking about Dan’s whereabouts, exes and who she was to him. In addition, they could make you feel quite vulnerable when they sprung up on you unannounced when you were on your own, and that she didn’t care for. She had been grateful to see a kind, friendly, and, okay, handsome face following her dad. Heck she had been grateful to see her dad after being alone all day.

Nikki’s laugh rang down the phone once more. ‘I’m kidding,’ she started. ‘Right, I love you, but I need to get back to my customers and make sure my own café is still afloat.’

‘Oh god, sorry, yes. Thanks for being there for me. I bloody miss you,’ Amanda replied, walking back and forth past her bay window.

‘I bloody miss you too. Be sure to send me a picture of Frank,’ Nikki teased, and Amanda could practically see her winking down the line. Nikki’s injection of British words into her American vocabulary never failed to make Amanda grin.

‘I am not taking pictures of random electricians,’ she replied, stopping in front of the door and nodding at a curious passerby.

‘Why not? It’s not exactly like your one-in-a-million, delicious rock god with a perfectly chiseled jawline and a ridiculously sexy pout boyfriend could possibly get jealous,’ Nikki said. Amanda let out a howl of a laugh as she wiped at her tired eyes. She loved her best friend.

‘I am one hundred per cent going to tell Dan you just said all those nice things about him,’ Amanda noted.

‘Oh, don’t do that, you’ll only go and pump up his ego more,’ Nikki responded with a fake whine in her voice.

‘If Dan had an ego,’ Amanda sighed wistfully. She played with the door handle and looked around at her surroundings. There didn’t seem to be anyone hiding behind telephone poles today.

‘We can create a bad boy rock star out of him yet,’ Nikki replied, making Amanda chuckle once more. ‘In all seriousness, you should take some before and after pictures for your blog. I’m sure that will get some interest and create a buzz before opening day.’

‘Oh shoot, my blog. Nikki I’m going to be completely honest, I’ve not posted at all in the past two months. Everything just got so busy and crazy.’

‘You know, it’s quite comical how much you suck at social media yet run a successful food blog. Well, it might not be successful now you’ve abandoned it and run it into the ground, but …’

‘Are you quite done?’ Amanda interrupted, laughing. ‘I thought you had a café to run two minutes ago?’ She turned the handle on the front door, pushing it open and blinking a few times to adjust her eyes to the darker indoors. ‘And I get your point, thank you for the idea.’

‘You’re welcome. Keep me posted. Love you,’ Nikki said, before Amanda heard the line go dead.

Putting her phone in her pocket, she made her way over to her dad to ask what was going on. When she tapped him on the shoulder, he turned around and answered her question before she had time to ask it.

‘Sweetheart, I appreciate you trying to do this by yourself, but I’m your dad, it’s my job to help. How long were you going to try and work in darkness this evening, with no electricity?’ he asked. Amanda shrugged, for lack of a sensible response. ‘Your mum and I drove past earlier and saw you pottering around in the dark and cold. Really Amanda, it’s okay to ask for help.’ All Amanda could do was hug him. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

Then, trying to push Nikki’s words out of her head – she would not ogle Frank – she tried to act casual, like she hadn’t just been told off by her dad in front of him.

‘So, Frank, do you think you will be able to fix this mess?’ she asked, waving her arms around at the room. Frank had produced a battery-powered wall of spotlights that were now directed at the wiring spewing out of the ceiling.

‘It’s Liam. Frank is my dad’s name, and I think I can,’ Frank replied, with a dashing smile that caused Amanda’s cheeks to flame. Dammit Nikki, she thought to herself.

Saving her from further embarrassment, her phone beeped in her pocket. Amanda returned a smile to Liam and quickly turned away. She found a cooler spot a safe distance away, dug her phone out of her pocket and sat herself back down on the dusty floor. Embarrassment aside, at least she now had one less thing to worry about. Of course Amanda wanted the place to have lights and look pretty, but more than anything she wanted her kitchen up and running so she could begin preparing food for her customers and get the neighbourhood talking about the delicious smells arising from her little corner of the world.

‘Don’t be running off with electricians – if it’s sparks you’re after, I’m watt you’re looking for.’ It took her a minute to understand Dan’s text, but once it registered, Amanda was hunched over in stitches – she had definitely inhaled too many paint fumes today. Her laughter was becoming delirious. The small knot in her stomach at not hearing from Dan as much over the last few days untangled. She breathed a little easier. Before she could tap out her reply her phone beeped again.

‘Too cheesy?’ read Dan’s second text. She quickly replied, ‘Way too cheesy. Xx’ before then firing a text off to Nikki, ‘I thought you had to go and be an adult and run a café? Xx’.

Chapter 5

Grandpa’s Pasta Ciotti

Ingredients:

For the dough:

(A bit of this and a bit of that as Grandpa would say, until dough forms.)

Flour

Sugar

Unsalted butter

Milk

Egg

Baking powder

Salt

Vegetable shortening

Vanilla

For the filling:

3 tbsp cornstarch

½ cup sugar

1–1 ½ cups whole milk

2 egg yolks

1 tbsp butter

1 tsp almond extract