If you can't take the heat [England]

[Jökull Eriksson]

Looking back, Jökull really had no idea why he thought signing up for cooking class was a good idea. He had needed the extra credits and it was either that or mechanics class. Since working with cars wasn’t going to be in his near future and he’d made a couple of dinners at home in the past the Icelander thought cooking was his best bet. Now however, sitting in the warm room that smelt suspiciously like burnt food, he wondered if he should’ve gone for mechanics instead.

Of course he realized that it may be too soon to be so judgmental. It was only his second week in the class and they’d only cooked a couple of times. Then again someone had always managed to set off the smoke alarms or mess something up, and getting the scent of burnt lasagna out of your jacket wasn’t an easy task. Jökull was proud to say that he himself has never made a mistake yet and that his dishes were edible at the very least. The teacher seemed pleased with him too.

One of the best things about the class, he thought, was that all their cooking assignments so far had been individual work. There was enough room for each of them to have their own station, albeit a small one. It wasn’t that he was opposed to working with partners, oh no, it was just that cooking with someone else was a completely different matter. People were fussy about food and recipes and whatnot, and bumping elbows around boiling liquids and sharp knives didn’t really appeal to him. So when the teacher announced at the beginning of the lesson that they’d be put into randomly chosen pairs so that ‘you can all get to know each other better and build teamwork’ one thing came to Jökull’s mind.

Horror.

When his name was called out he stood and walked over to the work station to wait for his mystery partner. To keep himself occupied he took out the recipe cards and bowls, setting them up neatly on the counter. Each station had just enough room a small stove with a cook top and oven, counter space, sink and various utensils. It was small but cozy, and he wondered vaguely if they’d be combining two areas for this particular assignment.

It wasn’t until he felt a presence behind him that he realized his partner had arrived. Setting the wooden spoon down he turned around to face him. “Hey, so I guess we’re partners. I’m Jökull by the way,” he picked up the recipe cards and flipped through them idly, more so that he’d have something to do with his hands. “We’re supposed to be making a traditional British dish today. I was thinking scones. Any ideas?”