I wordlessly watch as Oliver grabs a skillet and baking sheet from the drawer under the oven and places them on the top of the gas stove.
Setting the oven temperature to a number I can't see, he butters the baking sheet and pops the can of biscuits against the side of the island. He grabs each individual biscuit and lines the eight evenly on the sheet; apparent signs of wear and tear decorate the baking sheet.
He turns the smallest front burner on low and rests three bell peppers on the grate covering the burner; green, red, and yellow.
"Won't that burn them?" I ask, confused on why he's placing the vegetable over the flame like a make-shift grill.
"Not at all," he hums as he grabs a pair of tongs from a drawer and begins flipping them slightly over the flame. The once yellow, red, and
