Chapter 17 : Ava
527 Words
I was seriously confused. Christian and Rosa liked my pasta, and I had been super careful making it, following all the steps and checking every ingredient. Being a vegetarian, I refrained from tasting it myself due to the eggs, but everything seemed spot on - from the yummy smell to the exact recipe.
Martha's strong reaction against the pasta just didn't add up, especially when everyone else thought it was good. It left me wondering what I might've messed up while cooking, a food mystery that bugged me even after we finished dinner.
Alfred's expression was a blend of genuine curiosity and mild concern as he inquired, "What are you saying, love?" His brows slightly furrowed, and his eyes held a hint of curiosity, as if he genuinely wanted to understand Martha's unexpected reaction to the pasta.
A wave of curiosity washed over me, intensifying my desire to uncover the enigma surrounding my carefully crafted dish.
"You've no idea, love," Martha gazed at Alfred with an intensity that matched her fiery emotions. "This pasta… this pasta is the spiciest pasta I've ever had."
"What?" I retorted, my disbelief palpable. "No way."
Martha's frustration simmered, and she challenged me, her voice filled with indignation. "So you're telling me that I'm lying about it?"
"No," I shook my head, still grappling with disbelief and searching for the right words. Martha's claim was so contrary to my expectations that it left me momentarily speechless. I could have believed her if she had said the pasta was as sweet as honey, but spicy? It just didn't compute.
I couldn't accept it because I had meticulously ensured that the spice level of the pasta would be two notches lower than the norm, taking into account Christian's notoriously low spice tolerance. This wasn't just about pasta; it was a consistent effort I made for every meal he shared with me.
"This pasta tastes like you've put the whole week's worth of red chili powder," Martha continued to criticize my food, her words cutting through my confusion.
With my trust in her taste buds shaken, I impulsively grabbed a fork from the table and reached for the hot case, determined to prove her wrong. "There's no way it can be that spicy as you say. Christian has a low spice tolerance, so I've made sure its spice will be the mildest. Wait, I'll taste it myself."
As my hand curved into the hot case, poised to lift the lid and taste the pasta for myself, Christian halted me with a firm "No, you can't taste it."
I peered at him with a mixture of curiosity and puzzlement, trying to decipher the reason behind his unexpected prohibition. Why, I wondered, wouldn't he allow me to try it if it was indeed as delectable as he and Rosa had professed? It was a perplexing contradiction.
At the same time, a nagging question swirled in my mind: if Martha's critique about the pasta being overly spicy held any truth, then why on earth had Christian and Rosa praised it so enthusiastically? The conflicting opinions only deepened the culinary mystery that had unfolded before us.
To be continued...
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