Archie
I decided, somewhat impulsively, that I wanted to cook for Fiona myself, a decision that seemed reasonable enough in the moment but which I quickly came to regret the instant I actually stood in my kitchen surrounded by ingredients I had only a vague theoretical understanding of how to use.
I'd given the staff the evening off, wanting privacy for what I'd hoped would be a simple, intimate dinner, and now stood alone in a kitchen I rarely spent any real time in, staring at a recipe I'd printed off that morning, trying to determine whether the pan in front of me was actually hot enough for the chicken I was supposed to be searing.
Fiona arrived just as smoke began curling ominously from the stovetop.
"Something smells like it's on fire," she said, stepping into the kitchen with ob
