Camilla: Violetta and the Pearl 11

Grating carrots, chopping walnuts, squeezing fresh orange juice and grating the zest. Mixing cloves with nutmeg, cinnamon, ginger and a pinch of sea salt. Eggs, butter, soft brown sugar, flour. Auntie Mu’s Carrot cake in the making. I couldn’t decide what was more pleasurable, making this cake or eating it. Huge amounts of carrots went into her cake. It seemed ridiculous to eat a cake that resembled a giant bowl of salad before it went into the oven, but once it came out after more than an hour in the oven, all those hard pieces of health and colour had transformed into silky smooth, sweet, seductive gooeyness. Just right in between cake and liquid, exactly where the perfect carrot cake should be. And woe to you if you would put icing on this cake. The cooking wrath of Mumu would come down on you hard.

 – Would you put a wooden cover over an Iso Grifo? Hang diamonds in a sequoia tree? You don’t add to perfection. Complete is complete. 

I was grating the big winter carrots until my fingers ached. Mumu was crushing coriander seeds in her mortar for a new skin tea she was developing. Randy and Gus from the liquor store a few blocks down the road were chatting and sipping their black coffee with cardamom. Suddenly I noticed everything being way too quiet. I looked up from my pile of of carrots.

Ruben. Right here in Mu’s kitchen. 

I froze. Couldn’t flee or fight, so there you go. Freeze. Carrot in my right hand, grater left. Petrificus Totalus. 

What in the holy hell was he doing here? 

-       Ruben! Mumu left her spices and pulled out a chair. Good to see you, dear boy. Can I make you a cup of tea?

-       I would love a cup of tea, Mumu. He looked at me and sat down just across the kitchen counter. Put his bag down. Fidgeted. I started breathing again.

Mumu came back with a steaming cup of something that definitely had rose petals in it. Something else too…black pepper? And violets.

-       I’m sorry to barge in like this. He looked at me and then at his hands.

-       It’s a café, anyone is welcome basically. 

I started grating again. 

-       Well, I…I did come to see you, actually.

-       Me? What do you need me for?

-       Well, I was hoping you could tell me that actually.

Mumu was mixing her spices, but I could feel her ears growing by the second.

-       I’m sorry, Ruben, could you come with me?

Whatever this was, I was not going to have this conversation with my 70 year old auntie next to me.