Fan Fiction: B&S - The Cookbook
Title: The Cookbook
Author: semisweetsoul
Fandom: Brothers & Sisters
Characters: Nora Walker, with mentions/appearances of her children, Saul Holden, Rebeca Harper and Scotty Wandell.
Word Count: 1,845 words
Rating: G
Prompt: Nora, Cookies.
Spoilers: Season 1&2.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing for a minute or two.
Summary: Nothing can pacify Nora as baking can.
Notes: Written for smallfandomfest, round 4. I want to dedicate this to marea67, I said I'd bring you cookies! Hope you don't mind it's in fanfiction. Enjoy everyone!
The Cookbook
At barely eighteen, Nora baked cookies for the first time. She intended to impress a handsome man she met at a reception her parents had organized. She cooked three different batches only to increase the chances that one of them would be perfect. She appointed her older brother Saul food critic. She waited impatiently and tried to read the expression on his face as he bit in the crust tasting carefully and more carefully only to tease her and test her patience at the same time. When she approached William at the church the next Sunday, she could tell at his glad grin he was happy to see her and even happier to receive a gift basket of homemade cookies.
It became a tradition. Nora would bake them as a gift to her husband on that date each year, a first date anniversary, an unimportant or superfluous celebration to some maybe, but there was no harm relishing in the memory.
She baked those cookies for the last time shortly after William passed away. Three days exactly after the pool party slash revelation day slash public humiliation of mistress dinner. Her mind, drained and busy, kept turning over the events that led her anger take over her usual serenity. Her petty attitude had stunned everyone present including her children, although one would think them used to their mother’s unexpected outbursts. She surprised herself somehow. None of her guests had seen her retreat in the pantry to retain the torrents of tears demanding to be shed.
When Nora realized what she had been doing, she sat a moment to take it in. Somebody turned her in automatic housewife mode. Three batches of William’s cookies were cooling off on several grids. She took one, tasted it, and after forty years finally allowed herself to accept the truth. They were not exceptional, not bad, not good, but disappointing. Just like William had been. Like hubby, like cookie!
She washed and dried her hands, then grabbed the worn cookbook, and tore apart the old brown page marked William’s Cookies. She watched the orange and yellow flame licking the paper and setting aglow her kitchen counter as the ashes disappeared into thin air and died down in the sink, thankfully not long enough to set the fire alarm on. The gesture, yet mostly symbolical, gave her a strange feeling of accomplishment. She was freed from this invisible constraint. Granted, her mind contained the list of ingredients and the directions, and she could not bleach out her thoughts to make them disappear, but she could live with that. She just needed to let them take as little place as possible.
Coming with a plan to get rid of the biscuits, proved more complicated than expected. No one liked William’s recipe. She heard all possible complaints, too spicy, sugary, dry, crunchy even greasy. The Walker family had luxury cookie tastes. A frustrated sigh escaped as she observed the mess around her and the ingredients lying around. She considered bringing a cookie basket to the neighbors or the mailman, but she had too much regard for those people, and driving to town to bring them to the shelter would have been a good idea had she made more. She was concerned that three dozens cookies alone would pass her off as a rich and stingy old lady.
The solution came in a flash as she was watching The View; at least it had not been a complete loss of time. She prepared the parcel. She placed the biscuits in a round carton box, tied a golden ribbon around, and left the house to deliver her precious package in person.
Later that day, Nora received a phone call from her brother reporting that Holly appreciated the gesture and apology, and added that her promptness at engaging the peace talks with the enemy greatly impressed him. Nora smiled wickedly, “Who’s the actress now?” she softly whispered to herself as she put down the receiver.
* * * * *
She had completely forgotten when she reopened her cookbook at the pastry section a few months later. Her index finger quickly turned the pages looking for William’s Cookies Tommy requested for his new business inauguration. She kept all her treasures under plastic, not to stain them. Her eyes meet Saul’s favorite formula, with just a touch of honey, as delicate and sophisticated as her older brother. Then there was Sarah’s favorite recipe who loved hazelnuts so much that Nora had to hid them from her daughter’s sight so that they ended up in the dough rather than in the her kid’s stomach. The next page displayed Kitty’s all-time favorites, the traditional chocolate chip; her youngest daughter was indeed as conservative in her politics as in her pastry tastes. Raisins and oatmeal, Tommy’s weakness, showed up on the following entry, a touch of countryside, Nora reckoned, probably the only ones she could not bake her eyes closed. Tommy would love them, and they would be in perfect harmony with the theme and place. Raisins cookies for a winery opening, how did it not occur to her before? Nora had no idea they would play the role of comfort food when the family landed at the nearest hospital the next day to welcome the twins.
* * * * *
As Nora prepared another parcel with Rebecca’s help, she could not chase away the thought that her youngest son had not given any sign of life in over a week. Nora was worried, which was common for a soldier’s mother to be, though her anxiety grew deeper with passing days. One night, after enduring some summer TV rerun, she felt too fidgety to go to sleep and too preoccupied to set her mind on any novel. She went seeking solace on her kitchen, Rebecca on toe, and instead of drowning her misery in vanilla ice cream, headed for her best friend aside from her brother: her cooking book. Nothing could pacify her as baking could. While she gathered the ingredients and utensils, Rebecca flipped though the five hundred pages heavy cooking bible. She smiled at Kevin’s cookie recipe and the little pencil note scribbled next to lemon, the bitter, the better! It sounded all too familiar, a perfect illustration of Kevin’s personality. Fascination urged her to get a look at Justin’s favorite ones, if Kevin’s example was any indication, they should be just like the youngest Walker kid, sweet and tender, a correct description of peanut butter cookies, actually.
The next two pages showed a step-by-step process with pictures of The Best Christmas Cinnamon Cookies Ever by Kevin Walker. Rebecca looked at Nora quizzically. Instantly, the matriarch launched in a monologue to explain how seventeen-year-old Kevin, always glad to embrace new traditions, had undertaken the creation of the French thirteen desserts after watching a documentary about Christmas celebration all over the world on television, and would have died choking on one of his own production, hadn’t his older brother performed the Heimlich Maneuver on him and saved his life.
After the bittersweet reminiscence, Nora taught Rebecca how to bake cookies, and supervised her new apprentice, and the next morning she added a new page to the cookbook.
* * * * *
A few days after the commitment ceremony, Scotty stopped at the Walker’s estate to thank his new mother for everything she had done for Kevin and him. They discussed cooking over a cup of tea and a lemon cake Nora specifically made, and Scotty liked it so much that he asked for the recipe. Naturally, Nora lent the sous-chef her essential vade mecum, and that is how Nora’s cookbook ended up at the loft.
When he first opened it, Scotty directly searched for the cake instructions, but as he flicked through the pages, his attention stopped on colorful drawings, a sheet entitled Cooper’s Cookies beside which was Paige Cookies version one pre-diabetes, handwritten notes commented the contents and the next paper showed the neat version, renamed Paige Cookies version two post-diabetes. The book reaching its end Scotty went backwards. He was surprised to notice a slip for Julia, Robert, himself and even Joe.
Someone was missing, though. Maybe for once he could take advantage of the Walkers’ infatuation with their cell phones. In no time, he had the necessary piece of information.
There were too many good recipes for Scotty to copy them all so he opted to scan the one he judged the most innovative and interesting. Once he was finished, he locked himself up in the kitchen and let creation overtook him. When Kevin came back from work, Scotty received compliments in between mouthfuls of little pieces of heaven, Kevin’s own words.
The next day Scotty stopped at the Walker house and left the cookbook and a package for the attention of Nora in full view on the kitchen counter.
After a long and tiresome day, Nora’s only wish was to hurry to bed but before, she welcomed the thought of a fresh glass of milk to help her find sleep quicker. It is only after she fell back on a stool exhausted; glass in one hand, bottle in the other, that she noticed the return of her precious book, and the package lying next to it. She reached for the yellow post-it stuck on the worn cover, and after adjusting her glasses on her nose, read,
Dear Nora, thank you so much for this mine of information. I am so honored that you judged me trustworthy enough to share your family recipes with me. I could not help noticing one was missing so I took the liberty to add it. I hope you will like my contribution, otherwise, feel free to disregard it or dismiss it. I will not be offended, I promise.
Thanks for everything.
Love, Scotty.
Curiosity piqued, Nora frantically turned the pages looking for Scotty’s addition, but it would be as well to look for a needle in a haystack. Julia’s suggestion of creating an index was not that bad after all. In between the torn papers, and the numerous added clippings, it had become quite difficult to find the desired entry.
Nora opened the package and plunged her fingers inside without paying attention. She dropped the movement as her perusing led her to a slip whose handwriting she did not recognize. Adjusting her glasses on the tip of her nose, she approached the paper to direct light.
These cookies are strong and soft, sweet and sour, rich in taste, perfect for comfort on all sorts of occasions. They will never let you down. I dedicate them to my beautiful, wonderful and exceptional mother-in-law, for whom I have the highest respect.
Nora’s eyes welled in tears. Delicately, she took a round biscuit from the joined package and a bite with delight. It was more than William had ever done for her in forty years of marriage, a genuine selfless token of affection from a son to a mother. A smile curled at the corner of her mouth as her index finger traced the bold letter in the center of the page, Nora’s cookies.
THE END
Thanks for reading.
Author: semisweetsoul
Fandom: Brothers & Sisters
Characters: Nora Walker, with mentions/appearances of her children, Saul Holden, Rebeca Harper and Scotty Wandell.
Word Count: 1,845 words
Rating: G
Prompt: Nora, Cookies.
Spoilers: Season 1&2.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing for a minute or two.
Summary: Nothing can pacify Nora as baking can.
Notes: Written for smallfandomfest, round 4. I want to dedicate this to marea67, I said I'd bring you cookies! Hope you don't mind it's in fanfiction. Enjoy everyone!
The Cookbook
At barely eighteen, Nora baked cookies for the first time. She intended to impress a handsome man she met at a reception her parents had organized. She cooked three different batches only to increase the chances that one of them would be perfect. She appointed her older brother Saul food critic. She waited impatiently and tried to read the expression on his face as he bit in the crust tasting carefully and more carefully only to tease her and test her patience at the same time. When she approached William at the church the next Sunday, she could tell at his glad grin he was happy to see her and even happier to receive a gift basket of homemade cookies.
It became a tradition. Nora would bake them as a gift to her husband on that date each year, a first date anniversary, an unimportant or superfluous celebration to some maybe, but there was no harm relishing in the memory.
She baked those cookies for the last time shortly after William passed away. Three days exactly after the pool party slash revelation day slash public humiliation of mistress dinner. Her mind, drained and busy, kept turning over the events that led her anger take over her usual serenity. Her petty attitude had stunned everyone present including her children, although one would think them used to their mother’s unexpected outbursts. She surprised herself somehow. None of her guests had seen her retreat in the pantry to retain the torrents of tears demanding to be shed.
When Nora realized what she had been doing, she sat a moment to take it in. Somebody turned her in automatic housewife mode. Three batches of William’s cookies were cooling off on several grids. She took one, tasted it, and after forty years finally allowed herself to accept the truth. They were not exceptional, not bad, not good, but disappointing. Just like William had been. Like hubby, like cookie!
She washed and dried her hands, then grabbed the worn cookbook, and tore apart the old brown page marked William’s Cookies. She watched the orange and yellow flame licking the paper and setting aglow her kitchen counter as the ashes disappeared into thin air and died down in the sink, thankfully not long enough to set the fire alarm on. The gesture, yet mostly symbolical, gave her a strange feeling of accomplishment. She was freed from this invisible constraint. Granted, her mind contained the list of ingredients and the directions, and she could not bleach out her thoughts to make them disappear, but she could live with that. She just needed to let them take as little place as possible.
Coming with a plan to get rid of the biscuits, proved more complicated than expected. No one liked William’s recipe. She heard all possible complaints, too spicy, sugary, dry, crunchy even greasy. The Walker family had luxury cookie tastes. A frustrated sigh escaped as she observed the mess around her and the ingredients lying around. She considered bringing a cookie basket to the neighbors or the mailman, but she had too much regard for those people, and driving to town to bring them to the shelter would have been a good idea had she made more. She was concerned that three dozens cookies alone would pass her off as a rich and stingy old lady.
The solution came in a flash as she was watching The View; at least it had not been a complete loss of time. She prepared the parcel. She placed the biscuits in a round carton box, tied a golden ribbon around, and left the house to deliver her precious package in person.
Later that day, Nora received a phone call from her brother reporting that Holly appreciated the gesture and apology, and added that her promptness at engaging the peace talks with the enemy greatly impressed him. Nora smiled wickedly, “Who’s the actress now?” she softly whispered to herself as she put down the receiver.
* * * * *
She had completely forgotten when she reopened her cookbook at the pastry section a few months later. Her index finger quickly turned the pages looking for William’s Cookies Tommy requested for his new business inauguration. She kept all her treasures under plastic, not to stain them. Her eyes meet Saul’s favorite formula, with just a touch of honey, as delicate and sophisticated as her older brother. Then there was Sarah’s favorite recipe who loved hazelnuts so much that Nora had to hid them from her daughter’s sight so that they ended up in the dough rather than in the her kid’s stomach. The next page displayed Kitty’s all-time favorites, the traditional chocolate chip; her youngest daughter was indeed as conservative in her politics as in her pastry tastes. Raisins and oatmeal, Tommy’s weakness, showed up on the following entry, a touch of countryside, Nora reckoned, probably the only ones she could not bake her eyes closed. Tommy would love them, and they would be in perfect harmony with the theme and place. Raisins cookies for a winery opening, how did it not occur to her before? Nora had no idea they would play the role of comfort food when the family landed at the nearest hospital the next day to welcome the twins.
* * * * *
As Nora prepared another parcel with Rebecca’s help, she could not chase away the thought that her youngest son had not given any sign of life in over a week. Nora was worried, which was common for a soldier’s mother to be, though her anxiety grew deeper with passing days. One night, after enduring some summer TV rerun, she felt too fidgety to go to sleep and too preoccupied to set her mind on any novel. She went seeking solace on her kitchen, Rebecca on toe, and instead of drowning her misery in vanilla ice cream, headed for her best friend aside from her brother: her cooking book. Nothing could pacify her as baking could. While she gathered the ingredients and utensils, Rebecca flipped though the five hundred pages heavy cooking bible. She smiled at Kevin’s cookie recipe and the little pencil note scribbled next to lemon, the bitter, the better! It sounded all too familiar, a perfect illustration of Kevin’s personality. Fascination urged her to get a look at Justin’s favorite ones, if Kevin’s example was any indication, they should be just like the youngest Walker kid, sweet and tender, a correct description of peanut butter cookies, actually.
The next two pages showed a step-by-step process with pictures of The Best Christmas Cinnamon Cookies Ever by Kevin Walker. Rebecca looked at Nora quizzically. Instantly, the matriarch launched in a monologue to explain how seventeen-year-old Kevin, always glad to embrace new traditions, had undertaken the creation of the French thirteen desserts after watching a documentary about Christmas celebration all over the world on television, and would have died choking on one of his own production, hadn’t his older brother performed the Heimlich Maneuver on him and saved his life.
After the bittersweet reminiscence, Nora taught Rebecca how to bake cookies, and supervised her new apprentice, and the next morning she added a new page to the cookbook.
* * * * *
A few days after the commitment ceremony, Scotty stopped at the Walker’s estate to thank his new mother for everything she had done for Kevin and him. They discussed cooking over a cup of tea and a lemon cake Nora specifically made, and Scotty liked it so much that he asked for the recipe. Naturally, Nora lent the sous-chef her essential vade mecum, and that is how Nora’s cookbook ended up at the loft.
When he first opened it, Scotty directly searched for the cake instructions, but as he flicked through the pages, his attention stopped on colorful drawings, a sheet entitled Cooper’s Cookies beside which was Paige Cookies version one pre-diabetes, handwritten notes commented the contents and the next paper showed the neat version, renamed Paige Cookies version two post-diabetes. The book reaching its end Scotty went backwards. He was surprised to notice a slip for Julia, Robert, himself and even Joe.
Someone was missing, though. Maybe for once he could take advantage of the Walkers’ infatuation with their cell phones. In no time, he had the necessary piece of information.
There were too many good recipes for Scotty to copy them all so he opted to scan the one he judged the most innovative and interesting. Once he was finished, he locked himself up in the kitchen and let creation overtook him. When Kevin came back from work, Scotty received compliments in between mouthfuls of little pieces of heaven, Kevin’s own words.
The next day Scotty stopped at the Walker house and left the cookbook and a package for the attention of Nora in full view on the kitchen counter.
After a long and tiresome day, Nora’s only wish was to hurry to bed but before, she welcomed the thought of a fresh glass of milk to help her find sleep quicker. It is only after she fell back on a stool exhausted; glass in one hand, bottle in the other, that she noticed the return of her precious book, and the package lying next to it. She reached for the yellow post-it stuck on the worn cover, and after adjusting her glasses on her nose, read,
Dear Nora, thank you so much for this mine of information. I am so honored that you judged me trustworthy enough to share your family recipes with me. I could not help noticing one was missing so I took the liberty to add it. I hope you will like my contribution, otherwise, feel free to disregard it or dismiss it. I will not be offended, I promise.
Thanks for everything.
Love, Scotty.
Curiosity piqued, Nora frantically turned the pages looking for Scotty’s addition, but it would be as well to look for a needle in a haystack. Julia’s suggestion of creating an index was not that bad after all. In between the torn papers, and the numerous added clippings, it had become quite difficult to find the desired entry.
Nora opened the package and plunged her fingers inside without paying attention. She dropped the movement as her perusing led her to a slip whose handwriting she did not recognize. Adjusting her glasses on the tip of her nose, she approached the paper to direct light.
These cookies are strong and soft, sweet and sour, rich in taste, perfect for comfort on all sorts of occasions. They will never let you down. I dedicate them to my beautiful, wonderful and exceptional mother-in-law, for whom I have the highest respect.
Nora’s eyes welled in tears. Delicately, she took a round biscuit from the joined package and a bite with delight. It was more than William had ever done for her in forty years of marriage, a genuine selfless token of affection from a son to a mother. A smile curled at the corner of her mouth as her index finger traced the bold letter in the center of the page, Nora’s cookies.
THE END
Thanks for reading.