Friday, 11 a.m.
Knight looked out of the small window in the kitchen and smiled, seeing Mal at the bar, turning on the charm and talking with Paulie.
Knight was glad the two of them got along fine. He was also happy that Paulie told him he could have the rest of the afternoon off if he cooked up something easy to make for dinner. So Knight was busy in the kitchen, frying meat up for stroganoff. He was showing Valko how to make the sauce, and they would put it in the crock pot to keep it warm.
“Make sure th’ noodles don’ dry out an’ don’ stick,” Knight said to Valko, who would be in charge of putting the stroganoff together for tonight’s dinner. “Don’ keep ‘em in th’ water; add oil so they don’ stick. Keep ‘em covered an’ cold. Nuke ‘em wi’ a little more oil, not much, so they don’ stick. The meat y’ c’n fuck up on – th’ noodles, ya can’t.”
“Got it,” Valko said, keeping an eye on the sauce.
“How’s y’r brother an’ sister?”
“They’ll pull through,” he said with a smile. He also peered around the corner of the door to see Mal sitting there casually. “I’m glad he’s alive.”
“He’s too damn tough t’ die,” said Knight, also smiling, and turning the beef. “Once I’m done wi’ this, tha’ sauce’ll be done, an’ you c’n put it in th’ pot.”
“Okay. Is the roast beef done?”
“Done f’r me, but not f’r the sandwiches.” He opened the oven to check. He was also making a turkey breast at someone’s request. She wanted it sliced up for a sandwich. Paulie thought she was cute – at least that’s what Knight thought – and had Knight make a small breast for her, promising it would be ready for her on Friday afternoon for lunch.
“T’morrow we’re gonna try makin’ pesto f’r Tuesday,” Knight said. “Gonna pound th’ shit outta some basil, cheese, an’ pine nuts an’ let’t sit in oil f’r the weekend. See how that goes.”
“Italian food in an Irish pub.”
Knight laughed. “We’ll see’f he likes it.” Knight spooned out two small plates of noodles, added a some bits of meat, and scored some sauce before Valko put it in the pot. He grabbed two forks and brought it out to the bar.
Mal sniffed the air. “What do we have here?”
“Gotta let th’ owner try th’ dish,” Knight said, setting it before to Paulie and Mal.
“You haven’t brought me crap yet, Knight,” Paulie said with a smile, and looked at the plate.
“Beef Stroganoff!” Mal said, and Knight only smiled.
“F’r you, Mal.”
Mal inclined his head in appreciation and thanks, and Paulie was already digging in. “Mmmm…” he said. “The noodles are hard.”
“Firm,” Knight said. “Al dente. Y’ don’ want mush.”
“I trust you,” Paulie said, and waved a fork at Mal. “Go ahead, try it.”
Mal did, and a look of pure contentment crossed his face. “Oh, this is good. Can you make this at home?”
“’course,” he said. “When he’s done, I c’n go, right?”
“Yes,” said Paulie. “Poor Valko. I’d better give him hazard pay.”
“Let’m take the food home.”
“I think I’ll do that.”
Knight put an arm around Mal’s waist while he ate, while Valko peered from the kitchen. Although he smiled, he sighed, and turned away from the scene, deciding to go wash the saucepan.