Fed up

We’ll blend this all up and have a fantastic, spicy pesto for the homemade gnocchi.”
    The loud noise from the food processor almost drowned out Nelson’s voice. “Sorry. Sorry. Hey, Josh? Excuse me. Can we do that again, Josh? Something is going on with the camera.” I gritted my teeth. What was Josh supposed to do? Cast some magic spell that would make the pesto ingredients fly apart and reconstitute themselves? Josh was a great chef, but he was a chef. He wasn’t Harry Potter.
    “Seriously?” Josh glared at Nelson but kept his cool. “Okay, we have enough here to make another batch.” Josh emptied the Cuisinart bowl, had Leo repeat the process of making the pesto, removed the container from the food processor, dipped a spoon in, took a taste, and nodded to himself. “A touch more salt, and that’s good to go.” He handed spoons to Francie and Leo and let them try. Both responded with smiles.
    Robin squeezed between Josh and Leo, grabbed the Cuisinart bowl, and angled the pesto toward Nelson. “You have to hold it like this so we get a good view. Here, let’s put it in something more attractive.” Reaching across the counter, she wrangled a spatula out of a ceramic vase that held cooking utensils and knocked over the vase and its contents. Ignoring the mess she’d made, she grabbed a little hand-painted bowl that sat on a windowsill. “There, here’s a nice bowl for the pesto.” Nelson lowered his camera and waited until Robin had finished meddling in Josh’s business.
    When Josh had dutifully transferred the pesto into the pretty bowl, I reluctantly realized that Robin had been right: the reds and oranges of the hand-painted bowl made the pesto look especially green and appetizing. In this instance, anyway, Robin’s bossiness was justified.
    When the potatoes were peeled and cooked, Josh had Francie and Leo put them through a ricer and spread them out on a tray to cool. The next step, I knew, was to work in eggs and flour. “Make sure your potatoes are nicely cooled,” Josh warned, “or you’ll cook the egg when you blend it in.” With Josh keeping a close eye on the dough, Leo and Francie rolled it into long snakes, cut off small pieces, used forks to make ridges in each piece, and then curved the gnocchi into C shapes.
    “Oops, sorry.” Nelson careened into me while trying to capture me slicing the peaches for the peach and raspberry cobbler.
    “Watch it, Nelson!” Marlee shook her head in disgust at the cameraman’s clumsiness.
    “Yeah, man,” Digger added. “Watch where you’re going.”
    Nelson looked truly apologetic. “I'm sorry. It’s crowded
    here.”
    “It’s okay. I’m fine,” I assured Nelson, who was right about the crowding. Although the kitchen was spacious in the sense of being a large room, the work areas were infuriatingly cramped.
    “No, you’re not fine,” Robin informed me. “Nelson, get yourself and your goddamn camera over here. Here, where the chef is cooking the food!” She pointed sharply at the innocent gnocchi. “Zoom in and give me something to work with. Stay on the food until I say otherwise.”
    Despite Robin’s demanding attitude and Nelson’s repeated need to reshoot cooking steps and instructions, Josh was able to teach Francie and Leo how to prepare the rest of the meal and how to coordinate the timing so that the separate components of the dinner were ready at the same time. When the gnocchi floated to the top of the pot of boiling water, the lamb chops were perfectly cooked in a nest of herbed vegetables, and the fish was seared to perfection. At that moment, Josh popped the peach and berry cobbler into the oven to cook while dinner was being served and eaten. The cheeses were on a platter, and the tomato salad had been tossed in an aromatic dressing. The cheese and salad course would follow the main course, and the cobbler would be served last.
    I was not used to watching Josh cook without being free to sample his delectable creations. Although he’d put me and everyone else to work, I felt stuck at the periphery of the scene. My stomach obviously did, too: it began to growl. When Josh tossed the hot gnocchi into the pesto, I couldn’t resist any longer. Catching his eye and glaring at him, I transmitted the message that unless I got some of this food, he was going to have one cranky, miserable girlfriend. I was absolutely ravenous, since it was nearing eight o’clock. As Josh must have sensed, everyone else clearly felt