Ignoring items whose cooking requirements were basically “insert
product into machine”, he could cook five things to an acceptable degree. Two
were breakfast foods, one was his mother’s pasta sauce, the fourth was his
father’s homemade pasta, and the fifth was a basic vanilla sponge cake.
He’d make the cake whenever he had to bring something to an
event, it usually was complimented to some degree. He’d smile, thank them, grab
a plate of something then go sit in the corner and wait.
Most nights, the person who found the ring he ‘accidentally’
dropped into it wasn’t worth chatting up.
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