Fancy Bread
Anil froze when he saw the flyer at school. Culinary Academies of America presents Junior Cooking Camp. He had to go! But he needed money to get there. So, the next morning on Saturday, Anil got to work. He sifted, stirred, rolled, cut, and baked. He iced, glazed, powdered and sprinkled. He stacked the cookies he’d made into cellophane bags. Then, he tied a ribbon around each bag with a tag that read Anil’s Gourmet Cookies. “Now,” Anil said, pulling off his flour-dusted apron, “I’ll make my dreams come true.” He knocked door-to-door, trying to sell the cookies. “I need money for cooking camp,” he told each neighbor. “I want to be a chef.” “Just bought some cookies,” one neighbor. “Cookies?” Mr. Puri waved his hand dismissively. “No sweets. Too many sweets.” He pointed toward some shelves stacked with desserts from India. “But those are canned,” Nanima argued. “These are fresh. And what is that you’re selling?” She motioned toward the freezers. “Frozen Indian meals. How long does it take to make a fresh paratha (flat bread) and aloo (potato)?” Mr. Puri shrugged. “Nowadays, too long.” Nanima tut-tutted. “People are moving too fast these days. Fast this, fast that. People will forget how to cook, I tell you.” She and Anil left. Once home, Anil put the cookies on the kitchen table. “Guess I’m not going to camp.” Nanima patted Anil’s shoulder. “Not all chefs go camping, huh. Some cook dinner at home.” In a bowl, she mixed flour, oil, water, and spices. She split the paratha dough with Anil. Sighing, Anil broke a bit off, rolled it into a ball, and flattened it with the palm of his hand. As he rolled it out, he thought about how traditional paratha shapes were so boring. Circles, triangles, nothing fun. His gaze strayed to some nearby cookie cutters. All that work he’d put into making those cookies… rolling, cutting... “Maybe the Indian store will buy some,” Anil hoped. Nanima called Puri. “Puri, I have a big moneymaker for you. My grandson’s parathas. They’re fast but fresh and fancy.” She paused. “You’ll see them? Good.” They cooked the parathas and brought them to Puri. Puri frowned. “Too small, these parathas. People like big parathas, so you have more to scoop vegetable with.” Parathas were like edible spoons. “You see?” Puri demonstrated by tearing off a piece of paratha. He pretended to scoop up some potato. Then, he put the paratha piece and pretend potato into his mouth. “But these are more fun for kids,” Anil said. Puri blinked. “Parathas for kids?” Puri slowly nodded his head. “Something new. And delicious.We’ll try them.” A few days later, Puri called Anil. When Anil hung up, Nanima asked, “Well? What did Puri want?” Anil grinned before hurrying to the kitchen. “Fifty parathas each week! Kids love them! Camp, here I come!”