The Blue Enamel Roaster
Calvin walked along the woven floor runner carrying a heavy blue speckled roaster by its side handles, a large metal serving spoon balanced in his fingers.
A woman in an off-white jumpsuit and tailored belt stepped into his path, holding a brown clipboard against her ribs. She extended her palm flat toward his chest, blocking his approach to the linen-draped table laden with carved pumpkins and polished platters.
Her eyebrows pressed together as she pointed a finger directly at the metal vessel, telling him to keep his homemade dish off her display because nobody wanted food brought in an old pan.
Calvin tilted his chin up, shifting his grip on the twin handles. He mentioned that she had not removed the lid, but she waved her hand dismissively across the air between them.
Lifting The Lid
She tapped the edge of the enamel lid with the tip of her pen, insisting he take it off so she could see what he expected people to eat.
Calvin set his feet squarely on the runner. He gripped the rounded lid handle, lifted it straight up, and turned the blue metal toward her shoulder.
Inside lay golden-brown squares of baked bread topped with baked apples, warm steam rising up past his knuckles. He explained he had spent his morning preparing maple apple bread pudding from scratch.
She leaned back, wrinkling her nose as she compared the baked dessert to pan scraps. He asked if she had tried a single bite, but she crossed her arms over her clipboard and declared that nobody dressed for the event came to eat out of worn cookware.
Reaching For The Table
She stepped closer to the side table, planted both hands under the rim of the blue pot, and lifted it off the wood to carry it away from the room.
Calvin raised a hand forward, telling her not to touch his food. She set it back down on a bare wooden serving board at the corner, her fingers curling tight against the sides as she stated she needed the buffet space to reflect higher standards.
A young boy in a knit sweater walked past the beverage station, holding a white ceramic plate flat between his hands. He stopped in front of the board, looking up into Calvin’s eyes, and asked if he could have a serving.
The woman extended an arm between the child and the pot, telling Calvin she would not permit a child to act as a pity patron. The boy shook his head quickly, stating he had walked over specifically to ask for a taste.
The Empty Plate
Calvin picked up the metal spoon from the table and pulled the roaster lid aside once more. The woman sighed, crossed her arms, and remarked that the boy would leave the plate alone after taking one bite.
Calvin dug the wide spoon into the center of the pudding, lifting a steaming portion of toasted bread and fruit. He laid the scoop gently onto the center of the child’s plate, the boy balancing the weight with both hands.
Other guests standing near the floral arrangements turned their heads toward the steam. A woman with folded napkins moved into line directly behind the boy, holding out her own plate and asking Calvin if she could take a portion as well.
Calvin smiled, raised the metal spoon once more, and dipped it into the dish while guests lined up behind the edge of the rustic table.
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