A Taste Of Cinnamon

All of the following is complete and total fiction. Not a word of it occurred, nor would it.

A Taste of Cinnamon

Starring Camila Mendes

(MF, oral, Cons)

By MrMaxLord

When Damien MacNeil graduated culinary school he had two dreams of equal importance. One of course was the dream of all chefs, and that was a restaurant of his very own. The other, which was more attainable and also much more up his alley, was a food truck. He had a strong desire to always be mobile, at least with his cooking. He thought there was nothing better than going all over with his signature style. Of course, a signature style was something he'd have to come up with first. In the mean time, he had another option to use his culinary skills to put money in his pocket and a roof over his head; cooking tutor. And he was able to mix this with his far more amenable dream of a food truck. Damien was a mobile cooking tutor.

The job was exactly what it sounded like. He had several clients all over the Los Angeles area. Well, the rich parts at least. He didn't price anyone out, or at least that wasn't his aim, but it just so happened that the job he had stumbled upon by accident tended to have a clientele who could probably just afford a private chef instead of spending even more money for him to teach them how to cook.

Of course it wasn't always that long term as some of his clients just wanted to learn one thing, then it was only a few weeks at most unless they were spectacularly bad. The job he was heading to was just that, though the quality of the student had yet to be determined as it was going to be the first lesson. The client wanted to be taught the very basics of baking and in specific, how to make the absolute perfect cinnamon roll. It wasn't an odd request nor was it remotely the most singular. That would have been the tech bro that wanted to make the single best grilled cheese sandwich in the world. This would, hopefully, be a cake walk in comparison.

The neighborhood he found himself in to get his client wasn't too bad. While it wasn't ultra posh he also knew he was dealing with someone who was living comfortably. So from what he could gather, he was dealing with a somewhat well off woman with something of a sweet tooth. Though knowing she was a woman wasn't so much of a guess, as he had the client's name.

He pulled up in front of a rather modest, or modest in comparison amongst the neighborhood, house in the middle of the street. He stepped out of his car, holding a toolbox filled with his various cooking tools. He had a cooler in the back of his van filled with more stuff for the lesson, like ingredients, but he wanted to meet the client first.

Damien rang the doorbell and waited for a response, or a human response as opposed to the sound of a small dog barking in response of the ding dong of his announcement.

"Truffle calm down!" he heard a distinctly female voice say through the door, followed by a much clearer version of that voice through an intercom. "Who is it?"

"Damien MacNeil," he answered. "And if your name is Camila Mendes then I'm at the right place."

The door opened to reveal a drop dead gorgeous Latina behind it, though it wasn't open all the way just yet.

"You have the QR code thing your ad says you'd have?"

Damien nodded and reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a laminated card with with his business logo across the top and the QR code dead center which was quickly scanned by Camila's phone. After a cheerful "ding" sound rang, the actress seemed satisfied.

"Please," she said, "come in." Cami held the door open wide to allow Damien passage. Her home was a fairly cozy one, well lived in with pictures of family and friends on walls and shelves. Also running and circling on the floor was a very inquisitive little dog with a very noticeable underbite.

"This everything?" Camila asked.

"Just the tools," he answered. "The ingredients are still in the car. Was going to drop these off in the kitchen and then go back for them. Just easier that way."

"All right," she said with a shrug. "You're the pro. Kitchen's this way." The brunette led him the short distance to the kitchen and it was fairly typical. Somewhat spacious but not ridiculous. A nice big counter in the center loaded up with drawers and cabinets below a marble top and above that various cookware hanging just above it. To complete the typical sight was a stainless steel refrigerator with an icemaker and monitor screen for some reason Damien was sure he'd never even inquire about.

He set his toolbox on the counter and faced Camila who was leaning forward on the on the side of the counter.

"So what's on the lesson plan today?" she asked.

"Bread," he replied simply.

"Bread?" she asked

"Bread," he confirmed. "I always start with the basics and though your end goal isn't the most complicated, cinnamon rolls can be tricky at the very least. Mainly with the filling."

"So we begin with the single most basic thing."

"Yep. Preschool, then Kindergarten with cinnamon rolls as grad school."

"Aren't preschool and kindergarten the same thing?"

"I don't think so, like one is preparatory."

"So preschool is baby prep school, which is what we're doing today in baked goods form?" Cami asked, looking for confirmation.

"I guess that's one way to look at it," he said. "And since you're paying for the lessons, I guess that is the way to look at it."

"I like you already."

"I strive to be personable." With that, Damien left the kitchen for the briefest of moments while Camila opened the tool box and began to look through it. She felt like she was going through a doctor's bag with all the assorted and very shiny knives and similarly sharp objects. Then in another drawer were a bunch of silicon spatulas. Well some of them were for sure. Others just looked like random squares and semi-circles of the material in various colors and sizes.

"We won't be using most of that," Damien said, startling Camila. "Really just the wooden spoon and one of the spatulas. Well, dough scrapers. I mean it's just a spatula without a handle."

"You mean this?" Camila said, pulling a green one from the box.

"Exactly. Maybe this will be more along the lines of kindergarten."

"Well I've always been in the advanced classes." Camila give him him a smile then walked over to him as he set the cool on the floor next to the counter. "So, how do we start?"

"Well, I'm going to put all the ingredients on the counter except one, which I think you can handle."

"What's that?"

"One and a half of a cup of very warm water. Not boiling or or super hot. More like a cup of hot tea that you can drink without blowing on it."

"Gotcha." Camila went to one of her kitchen cabinets and then quickly got the water as needed. By the time she returned to the counter it was a bit more full with the cooler almost completely empty. Two large squares of parchment paper were spread out on the table along with several dry ingredients, each in their own plastic containers with measuring cups near them. Alongside two empty glass bowls. "You work quick."

"Best to get a lot of the busy work out of the way so we can focus on the main course," Damien said.

"I do like it when a man does all the work," Camila suggestively said. "So we're ready?"

"Almost. Do you have one of those big glass measuring cups?"

"Yeah."

"Fill it with three cups of very warm water. Not boiling but hot."

"No prob," Cami said, and proceeded to show how little of a prob it was. She returned to the table with the water and a question. "We need a loaf pan or anything?"

"Not a loaf pan, now. But a Dutch oven or any over safe pot you have is going to come in handy." Soon that was ready to go as well. "Okay, so let's get the easy part out of the way. Dump those dry ingredients in your bowl like I will in mine. Any order, doesn't matter at this stage."

Cami did so, asking when she was done, "What's the measurements on these?"

"Three cups All Purpose flour, two teaspoons of instant yeast, same with the salt but make sure it's kosher. Nothing else. This is just a very basic, very simple bread. Now you can choose to to mix it now or wait until you add the water but that water always goes last."

"Are we going to get our hands dirty with the mixing?"

"Not for this no, just the handle end of our wooden spoons. Sounds odd but it makes for a more even stir with less effort. Of course, that's only after the water is added. So, without further ado."

Damien grabbed the measuring glass and pouring half of the hot water into his bowl then the rest into his clients. The moment her began to stir so did she and in short order they were both left with big mounds of dough that looked like they'd been run through the mill. Before Camila could ask what was next Damien floured the parchment paper on the counter and dumped out his dough and Camila followed suit.

"Time for the rolling pin?" she asked.

"Nope, just the dough scrapers," he said, pointing out the silicone spatula-looking things before reaching out to grab one for each of them. "Just to kind of mounding it up into a ball kind of shape. We aren't going for a perfect shape, just something that kind of resembles a globe. Just watch me on it." And she did, and soon those misshapen mounds had some kind of shape to them. "Now, we put these in two bowls, cover them with plastic wrap and let them proof for about three hours."

"Three hours?" asked Camila, more than a little surprised. "Look, I don't have three hours to spare for this. Maybe like an hour, hour and a half."

"Which is why I brought a dough premade." He reached in and took out a plastic container that held a dough much like the ones just made, though a bit larger. He placed it directly on the the floured parchment paper, then lifted the paper with the dough in it and placed it in the pot Camila had provided. "No need to oil it either as the parchment paper will make sure there's no sticking. Then just put the top on to seal the heat and it'll only be about an hour including letting it set. So, in the mean time, we can make a little accompaniment with some flavored butters. Or just one, to be fair. Some regular whipped butter and then some garlic butter."

"How complicated can flavored butter get?"

"Well, if I had opted for blueberry butter that in itself would be a lesson."

"Blueberry butter? How does that feel basic and bougie at the exact same time?"

"Learned how to make it while I was a sous chef at a steak house."

"Well, that answers that," Cami said, making Damien laugh.

"You have a food processor?" he asked. "We're going to need it to whip the butter. We're going to kind of look at it as prepping you for the frosting with the cinnamon rolls."

"Makes sense," Camila replied. "So what else do we need?"

"Just some more bowls really. Everything else is ready to go. And just in case you're curious we're using unsalted butter, roasted garlic and parmesan cheese and just a little bit of ground pepper. Don't worry about adding salt, believe me, the parmesan is going to take care of that."

"Okay, so while you're setting that up, I'll put it on myself to keep the conversation flowing since it looks like you're taking it on yourself to handle the butter."

"Works for me. I mean it's basic enough where you can get the gist unless you want get your hands dirty."

"While I would never be the kind of girl who would be accused to have an aversion to being dirty I think I'll hang back on this one." There was no room to wonder anymore if any of the innuendo was unintentional with Camila, not with the combination of the tone of her voice, the words she'd been speaking and the look on her face. It wasn't something Damien was new to, though rarely such open flirtatiousness came to him from a woman of this caliber.

He began to take out the rest of the ingredients out; two sticks of unsalted butter, a wedge of parmesan, the roasted garlic and some fresh herbs ready to be sliced. The moment they were all placed, he began. Grating the cheese, chopping the herbs, whipping the butter, and prepping the roasted garlic, still steaming hot in it's heated and insulated container. Of course, none of this was done in silence.

"So is being a cooking tutor you main gig or a side hustle?" Cami asked.

"Main gig," he replied as he grated the cheese. "Got really tired of working underneath chefs who either weren't as good as they thought they were but talked to their staff like they were, those who were that good and thought Gordon Ramsey was a pansy and people who I outclassed and thought they were the king of the mountain. Not that I don't run into that with this gig but honestly the money is so good for not even eight hours of work a day that I won't have to do it for too long."

"This just a means to an end?" asked Camila

"Aren't all jobs?" he countered.

"Fair enough, but what's the end here?"

"A food truck," he replied. "Just like the idea better. Mobile, go where the business is, and a bit more freedom to be experimental."

"I like it," Camila said with a smile. "I've talked to a few chefs and the end all be all for so many is a restaurant either in LA or New York. Sometimes in Chicago. There's such a need to be liked that you'd swear they were in my profession."

"A lot of chefs do have that actor thing going on don't they?"

"What gave it away for me?"

"Well when you say you're familiar with a great need to be liked it's kind of easy to put that piece of the puzzle in place."

"Nice one," she said as she got her turn to laugh at herself. "But seriously, that's a good goal. Fun one too. Experimenting can be fun."

"Mind if I ask you a question now?" Damien asked.

"Go for it," she replied.

"Why cinnamon rolls?"

"Nothing too outrageous or dreamy," the brunette replied. "I like sweet stuff for breakfast occasionally and donuts sometimes don't hit my sweet tooth just right. Cinnamon rolls never fail to. I mean it's sweet, but the cinnamon gives it just the right amount of something else. And the dough is just better. Just a quick bite when I don't want to make an acai bowl because you know most store bought ones are crap and basically just oatmeal or some screwed up pudding and you can't do drive through for breakfast in this business and expect to last. Hell, in any business, but for totally different reasons. I figure I learn to do this, me and my man always have something on stand-by that's at least good and a quick sugar rush and I know what's in it because I made it."

"You gonna train your man to make them in case you have a late night?" Damien asked.

"He's already a jack of all trades, I think I'll have some all for myself."

"Sounds good," he said, dropping the grated cheese and chopped herbs on top of the butter followed by the roasted garlic, squeezing it into the food processor. "And here we go." He pulsed the mixture in the food processor in five second intervals and soon it was ready. He opening it up and dipped a tasting spoon in the mixture then offered it to Cami. "Care for a taste?"

"Thank you," she said before bypassing the spoon and dipping her index finger in the concoction and sucking the buttery goodness from it. "Mmmm," said, licking her lips. "Is everything you do this delicious?"

"I guess you're going to find out."

"Guess I will."

*******

"Why does the butter have to be cold?" Camila asked. It was a week later and round two of her cooking course and the next level, as determined by Damien, was biscuits; buttermilk to be precise. Once more they were in her kitchen this time with what Damien had determined to be the next level of difficulty in terms of baked goods.

"If the butter's cold it steams while the biscuit bakes in the oven," Damien replied. "So that makes the biscuits rise more and get even fluffier, which is exactly what we want in a biscuit." He grabbed the lump of dough in front of them both and began to form it into a rectangle. "One thing about these is you don't want this too thin. One inch will do it."

"So we want it nice and thick," Cami said with just the right hint of the right kind of suggestion in her tone.

"Yeah, but we need to really work up to it to get it just the right amount," he batted right back to her. "Just watch me." And she did as he formed the dough into a one inch thick rectangle, fold it over, cut it, stacked the two haves then looked to her. "Your turn. Let's see how good you are with your hands."

"Moi? I've never gotten any complaints." Damien stepped back and allowed Camila to take her spot. Soon she started imitating what she'd seen him do, patting and forming the dough once more into a rectangle.

"You know, usually I say 'Who's your daddy?' when I'm doing this," the bawdy brunette said as she patted the dough down.

"I bet you also do it a bit harder than that."

"Should I be doing that now?"

"Actually no," replied Damien. "You might be doing it a bit too rough. We want this to be as low friction as possible so the butter stays cold."

"Low friction and low heat?" Cami asked, the flirtatious and joking tone once more in her voice. "I'm not too familiar with either concept."

"Let me steer you around the edges," he said, getting in position behind her and loosely putting his hands on top of her to guide her own.

"You get this hands on with all your clients?" she asked,

"So far just you and Willem DaFoe."

"At least that's good company." His breath barely caressed her skin, so close yet all too far. His hands though, that was pure skin to skin contact. It wasn't too complex, and he could have just shown her how by stepping back once more. However, both would agree the hands on approach was a bit more fun.

"Just like that," he said. "Not too hard otherwise you're not going to get that butter steaming right and the biscuits won't rise right."

"We wouldn't want a lack of rise," said Camila. "That's not fun for anyone."

"Speaking of, how did you boyfriend like the bread?" The question would have been relatively normal if not for his hands being on hers and Cami's as grinding in the most subtle manner against his crotch.

"A lot actually," she replied as their hands continued on the dough. "Didn't really use the butter though. Which was a bit of a bummer. I thought I made a good batch after our lesson together."

"I'd love to taste it."

"In due time."

After a minute more of working the dough in the cycles he'd shown her, the dough was ready to be cut. Damien showed her the right way to go about it by flouring the biscuit cutter between every cut and let her finish it until the scraps of dough weren't enough to reform to repeat the process.

"So, what next?" She asked. "Straight to the oven for twenty buttermilk biscuits?"

"Totally up to you. They freeze extremely well so you can do whatever number you want. Lady's Choice."

"How long do we have to leave them in for?"

"Maybe about ten minutes, then a five minute rest. We still want them hot enough to melt butter on contact."

"Melting is always a good thing," she said before leaning forward on the counter. "You know, you never asked what I thought about the bread and butter. You asked about my boyfriend first. Aren't you curious?"

"Well, I suppose I am now," he replied. "What did you think?"

"Delicious," she said, walking towards him, brown eyes focused on him. "I can't wait to taste everything else you have to offer." She was close to him now, almost body to body. They were both about to get a taste of each other's menu when Camila's phone went off. "This is the textbook example of the opposite of being saved by the bell." She took a quick look at the message sent to her and nodded. "Looks like we'll have to delay this meal for two until our next lesson."

"That's the funny thing about a craving," Damien said. "Sometimes the longer it takes to get that taste, the more satisfying it ends up being."