Cooking with a Ghost

I have had many people in my life who have tried to teach me how to cook, but the one teacher I can never forget is Roger Hatfield. After all Roger is a ghost. As far out as that may sound to you, this really happened to me. You are looking at me right now thinking, “Is this guy whacked or what?”

Maybe one day I might agree with you, but looking back, Roger was a really good teacher whether you choose to believe me or not. It happened when I was in college. I was eying a girl in my cooking class that I was really interested in hooking up with. Her name was Nancy Gumway, and she was a knock-out.

“Hello, my name is Terrance Suttor.” I put my books down on the desk next to her. She looked up at me with her baby-blue eyes and electric smile.

“My name is Nancy Gumway.” Her voice was like a choir of angels singing a heavenly tune. I could feel my heart beat

It has come to my attention when you meet someone like Nancy, there will be some hurdles you will have to overcome. True to this rule of love, I would seen find Nancy had some baggage I would have to deal with. First she was a very skilled cook whereas I was not. I got talked into taking the class, was because my advisor Mr. Willis told me it was an easy A.

“Terry, you need to become handy in the kitchen. Most freshmen nearly starve to death because their mommies cooked for them their entire lives until arrived here at Hickenbee College.” He nodded, but his eyes seemed to bore into me as I sat in his office. “We like our students to be able to handle things on their own or as I like to call it, maturity.”

The way he was talking to me made feel me a bit uncomfortable. His facial expression didn’t help either as he reminded me of my dad.

“Alright, I will sign up for the class.” I agreed.

“Good, good, Miss Tyler is the teacher, and she is very energetic and upbeat.” He smiled, but he rolled his gray eyes ever so slightly.

Now as I sat next to Nancy, I immediately understood why Mr. Willis rolled his eyes ever so slightly when I signed up for this class. After completely concentrating on Nancy when I walked into the classroom, when I glanced around, I noticed that I was one of two male students in the class out of the two dozen students.

Miss Tyler was short and thin with short, dirty dishwater blonde hair and crystal blue eyes that seemed to dart a round the room.

“Good afternoon students, I am Miss Tyler the teacher of Basic Cooking.” She folded her hands in front of her apron, a gesture that seemed as if she was trying to control her hands from getting away from her. I wondered if they had once tried to get away from her. “Now, for most of you.” She looked directly at me and other male student, “This may be your first time operating an oven. Do not be afraid, the oven won’t hurt you unless you put your hand in the flame.”

There was a titter of laughter.

“We will teach you how to cook full meals. You may wish to eat a light lunch before you come to class.” She said keeping her legs glued to the checkered board tile, but moved her torso left to right. Her movements reminded me of a robot I had seen on television. “The money you paid when you signed up for this class will cover the cost of the ingredients.”

Money? That was dad’s department. He did complain about the tuition, but I didn’t hear any complaining about the extra cost.

“Some of you have already taken Home Economics in high School, but I will teach you as if you have had no experience in the kitchen.

She looked right at me again. The only thing I had done was to open the freezer to get the ice cream out.

She went over the print out of her curriculum she had passed out. Suddenly staying awake became a challenge. My eyes drifted over to Nancy who was using a highlighter.

“Hi, my name if Stewart Geometri.” The other guy in the class introduced himself when the class was dismissed. His shoulders were as wide as I was tall it seemed.

“Terry Suttor.” I shook Stewart’s massive hand.

“I play on the football team.” He told me.

“I watch football on television with my dad.” I smiled as the thought struck me that he could squash me like a bug of he got the urge. I would have to be nice to him, not just for male companionship, but for just plain survival.

When I got back to my dormitory room after dinner, there was somebody sitting on the empty spare bed when I opened the locked door.

“Can I help you?” I asked putting my keys on the desk next to my bed.

“You can see me?” He seemed astounded.

“Of course.” I shrugged a jittery shrug. “You’re sitting right there.”

“Strange.” He put his fingers to his lips, pinching them between his fingers.

“Why? You are right there.”

“Well, the reason it is strange old chum is that I am a ghost.” He chuckled. My jaw dropped when he said this.

“Oh yeah and how did you come to this conclusion?” I was stunned by his admission.

“For one thing, I can do what a ghost can do.” He stood up and walked through the closed door which really unsettled me. He walked back through the door and folded his arms across his chest. “Any further questions?”

“Naw, no, ah-nope.” I twitched a bit.

“Frankly, I am a bit surprised you can see me. Nobody else can.” He tilted his head.

“Why are you here?” I shook my head to clear out the cobwebs.

“I am here since I died.”

“And when exactly was that?” I pursed my lips.

“January 17, 1923.” He shrugged as if I was supposed to know this. “It was an automobile accident. My brakes did not stop before I hit a tree square on.”

“Answer my question. Why are you here?”

“I am the ghost of this dormitory and each semester; I am assigned to a student who may require my assistance.” He smiled.

“So, you are like Casper the Friendly Ghost?”

“I suppose you could look at it that way if it helps you.” He shrugged. “My name in life was Roger Hatfield.”

“Okay Roger, what if I don’t want you tagging along?” I raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t get to pick and choose your ghost assistants. It doesn’t work like that.” He frowned.

“I might have to had a word with my student advisor.” I pointed my finger at him.

“Mr. Willis has nothing to do with it.” He shook his head.

This was definitely something I had not counted on, but it appeared that I was stuck with. Roger told me that he didn’t need sleep or eat.

The next day when I went to class, Roger tagged along and sure enough, not one person saw him walking next to me.

After lunch, I went to Basic Cooking and sat next to Nancy. She did not even notice I was there as I too were a ghost. I had been ignored by a lot prettier girls than her.

“She is pretty.” Roger commented. “Before my accident, I had a girlfriend but wound up marrying someone else. My best friend Lloyd.”

He sounded disgruntled at this, but I knew if I conversed with him, everyone would think I was off my rocker. I glance over at Stewart who was flicking through a Sports Illustrated magazine.

Miss Tyler walked in and began writing a recipe on the whiteboard.

“This morning, we are going to make a quiche.” She smiled.

“Oh that how you say it?” I chuckled, but Nancy shot me an annoyed glance at my attempt at humor. I looked at the recipe and shook my head. “I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can.” Roger put his ghost hand on my shoulder. My shoulder turned suddenly very cold. He then disappeared and my hands were preparing a proper quiche. When I pulled it out of the oven, Miss Tyler could not believe how good it looked. She asked for a taste and made a “yummy” sound.

“Terry, I cannot believe how wonderful your quiche turned out.” She shook her head as Roger reappeared next to me, but she nor the other students could see him.

“Pretty good team we make.” Roger nodded as we left class. I felt pretty confident about things.

By the end of the quarter, I had straight A’s. I had never done that once in high school. Roger Hatfield was really helping me get through as if I was a genius.

“I was a really good student when I was here.” He told me after dinner in my room. “If I hadn’t had my accident, who knows what I could have done.”

“Well, I can’t thank you enough.” I sipped my soda, “I really had my doubts when this whole thing started.”

“Humph, this is what I do.” He floated overhead for a bit, “You’re not my first project.”

“Project?” I put my soda on my desk.

“It’s how we view our assignments as ghosts.” He nodded, “All some ghosts do is haunt, but I’d be bored stiff with that. I enjoy being here with students who have no idea where they are headed. I never had the chance you have.”

“Me? I just want to be who I am.” I took a sip of my soda.

“And tell me Terrane Suttor, who are you?” Roger floated down to look me in the eye.

“I don’t know quite yet, I suppose.” I shrugged.

“Could I have a sip of that.” He pointed to my soda that I was just about to finish off. I handed him the can, but it fell through his hands as if there was nothing there to support it.

“Darn.” He shook his head in disappointment, “I keep thinking I can do it, but when I try, I always get the same results. Even though I make the dishes for you, I cannot taste or smell the aroma. It makes me sad.”

“Ghosts feel sad?” I furrowed my brow.

“Oh yes. Dreadfully I’m afraid.” He bowed his head.

“I didn’t know.” I shook my head. From that moment on, I found myself thinking about his condition. I wondered if one day I would be a ghost like him and if that’s what was going to happen, I hoped I would have a better understanding. Empathy you might call it.

“Hey Terry, there is going to be a cooking tournament after Christmas break. It’s for partners and I was wondering if you be my partner?” Nance asked me before class began one day. Roger was nodding so I agreed.

“Competition is going to be sharp, but I’ve been watching you and you are a special student in this class.” She smiled.

“Yes, I have even surprised myself at times.” I glanced over at Steward who was struggling in this class. I was glad about who I was in this class. Even Mr. Willits was pleasantly surprised at my progress.

The competition was held in the gymnasium on the first week of April. Nancy and I would have to prepare a three-course meal and desert for five judges sitting at the table in front of the raised stage. Mr. Willits was one of the judges. He waved at me when I entered the gym.

“How are you feeling?” Nancy asked me as she tied her apron. Roger was standing next to me with his arms folded across his chest.

“I’m feeling very confident.” I put both thumbs up.

“Good.” She nodded.

Every team had an oven and basic material needed to cook a meal for the judges. In turn the judges would rate each dish put in front of them. Perfect score would be fifty points.

“I want to make a chicken cutlet brazed in white sauce with butter squash and baked potato. For dessert, I want to make a key lime pie like my grandma used to make.” Nancy had it written down on a big index card.

“Sounds good.” I smiled and glanced over at Roger for his approval, but he was gone. He had disappeared. I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my forehead. I had never done anything in the kitchen without him. How could he leave me when I needed him most. My throat felt dry. I needed a drink from the water fountain just outside the gym, but when I got there, I saw a very strange man dressed in a toga like in Animal House.

“You must be Terrance Sutton.” He had a glint in his eye that made me take a step back. “Let me introduce myself. I am Thaddius.”

“And why are you here?” I managed to croak out of my dry throat.

“I am filling in for Roger Hatfield.” He raised an eyebrow as if he was John Belluci, “He is not feeling well.”

“But he’s a ghost, you don’t feel anything after you’re dead.”

“Oh you have ghosts confused with angels.” He shook his head slowly. “As ghosts we are waiting for our final judgment, and we feel a lot of emotion like we did when we were alive. Our memories are intact as well as our emotions.”

“So you are a ghost.” I sniffed.

“I am indeed, but mine has been much longer duration than Roger.” He smiled. “You see I was playing fiddle when Emperor Nero was inspection that part of the city. He told me I played well. I thanked him, but one of his guards put lethal poison in my glass of wine when I wasn’t looking. Once I was dead, Nero took my fiddle and played while Rome burned down. In my opinion he wasn’t that good.”

“So what I am supposed to do without my mentor Roger?” I folded my arms across my chest.

“Are you alright, Terry?” Stewart asked as he heard me talking to someone he could not see as he got a drink of water from the fountain.

“I’m fine.” I assured him, “I have and ear piece and I’m talking to someone on my cell phone.”

He smiled and nodded, but his eyes did not believe what I had just said. He hustled back into the gym.

“I will be there for you.” Thaddius assured me.

I had no choice. Roger had abandoned me. Nancy was concerned, because I did not seem as if I was on my game.

“Shall we?” Thaddius smiled and held out his hand to the open gym door.

One day perhaps, I will understand rules on how ghosts work, but needless to say, once Thaddius took over my mortal body, things began to fall into place. As a matter of fact, we won the contest. Nancy kissed me, sure it was on my cheek, but I could have flown on angel wings back to my dormitory room.

When I got to my room, Roger was sitting on the spare bed.

“Sorry about leaving you in the lerch.” His head rested on his open hands.

“We won.” I nodded.

“Doesn’t surprise me. Thaddius used to work as a chef in Rome for the Patricians in the Senate.” He explained, “He was one of the best from what I’ve heard.”

“What happened?”

“I miss it.” He sighed.

“Miss what?”

“The smell and the taste of food.” He closed his eye tightly, “Mom would take me to the market in town. Ah the smells of the food wagons cooking food of all sorts from all corners of the world. The flavors-Ah those flavors dancing merrily on my tongue. When I walked into your gymnasium, I really wanted to smell the cooking. And the tasting.”

He wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes. Watching him float away in his ecstasy, I got an idea.

“You want to what?” Thaddius could not believe his ears.

“I want to send some food to Roger.” I repeated.

“Ghosts can’t eat. You know that don’t you?” He shook his head planting his hand on him hips.

“It doesn’t matter.” I shrugged.

“We will have to put the food into the garbage.” He put his hand on his chin. He was quite dubious.

“I just want him to smell it.” I looked at him, “And I know you can manage to let him have one taste.”

“This is highly irregular. Highly.” He tilted his head.

“He deserves it.” I argued, “He was a great mentor.”

“He was and is.” Thaddius agreed. “I’m sure I can swing it with the board.”

“Board?”

“Certainly. The board sits on a fluffy cloud and rules on such matters.” Thaddius shook his head.

“When can you let me know?”

“After your classes.” He held up a finger.

“I will see you then.”

It so happened that we had extra servings of our award-winning dishes in the cooler in the kitchen. I snuck into the cooler and removed a plate with a chicken cutlet brazed in white sauce with butter squash and baked potato. After microwaving the meal, I brought it to my room.

“So what is the surprise Thaddius told me about?” Roger asked when I entered the room.

“Here.” I put the plate in front of him.

“My word, I can smell.” He held the plate under his nose.

“Taste it.” I urged him.

“My word, the flavor. Marvelous.” He a forkful in his mouth and closed his eyes with delight.

And then Roger Hatfield disappeared.