No, I am not interested in getting a free, awesomely amazing adjustable measuring cup that will change my life forever in exchange for convincing my 70K followers to buy one. I have more measuring cups than ingredients in my pantry, so if you want me to market your product, pay.

The truth was, Deena Lizman felt bad for Yehoshua Katz. The guy was certain he was reinventing the wheel with his product launch. He was probably telling people, all-knowingly, that you have to sell something you’re passionate about, and since he loves the kitchen — he makes the cholent every week, you know — he knows that this product is it.

But at the end of the day, Deena thought sadly, Amazon was flooded with measuring cups, and even if every last one of Deena’s followers bought two measuring cups, Mr. Katz’s listing would drown as soon as Deena’s next story went up. If only he’d asked her before ordering a container of them.

She marked the message unread, to be addressed later. Her neighbor, Shira Gluckman, was on the way over to help her with a photo shoot, and she had to focus.

Deena took the food to the studio for the shoot, and a few minutes later, Shira knocked.

“You’re my savior,” Deena told her.

“Pretty selfish savior. You know I do this for myself. I need the experience, I need to build my portfolio—”

“And you can admit that the publicity doesn’t hurt either.”

Shira chuckled. “One day I’m going to be so professional, I’m going to charge you $200 an hour for my work.”

“I’ll need to find a new savior then.”

They got to work on the styling, a beautiful dinner plate on a white milky glass tile. But when the tablescape was starting to come together, Deena stopped short.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” she told Shira, “but I think we’re making a mistake with the palette. This is a winter dinner, we need to go dark. More rustic.”

Shira frowned. “Hmm. You think?”

“Yup. Here, look at these.” Deena walked over to her prop closet and pulled out a stack of charcoal pasta bowls. “I found these on Etsy and fell in love with them.”

“Hmm,” Shira said. “Yeah, I get you. It has that moody vibe. Okay, let’s do it.”

They did it. They replated the food and debated which flatware to include. They set and changed and tweaked and enhanced, until finally, an hour later, the setup was ready.

“Gorgeous,” Deena breathed.

“Amen,” Shira said.

After that, Shira got busy setting up her lighting and Deena sat down to write.

#DinnerTonight. Nothing like piping hot dinner with family on a cold winter night! If there were a sixth love language, this PEPPER AND MUSHROOM BEEF LO MEIN would surely be it. You’ll want to double the recipe because everyone’s gonna ask for seconds. Seriously love at first bite.

She wondered if the last line was corny, then decided to leave it. Next was the recipe. She unfolded the paper where she’d written it up.

The first time Deena had made this lo mein, she’d written down every step along the way, then sent some to her sister Tzippi and her friend Leah to sample. The recipe part was never fun, but she had no choice. There’s no eyeballing when you share a recipe with the whole wide world. Everything had to be measured and timed.

That morning, she’d tiptoed out of her room at six o’clock and got her pots out. She’d followed the steps of her carefully recorded recipe, as though she were a new bride, a #nutsandbasil follower dicing an onion for the very first time. By the time Miri and Nechama woke up, the flames were off and the kitchen was spotless.

When Deena finished typing, she reread the recipe carefully, making sure there were no mistakes. Then she added some hashtags. #comfortfood #dinner #recipe #beeflomein #onebowldinner #savory and for Shira’s sake, she tagged on #shiraphotos.

Deena stood up and stretched. “How’s it going, Shira?”

“I think I have it.” Shira was standing on a chair, positioning her camera for a bird’s-eye view. “I’ll show you.” The pictures were stunning, total Shira magic.

“How quickly could you get the editing done?” Deena asked. “I’d love to post this by two-ish.”

“Today?”

“Uh-huh.”

Shira whistled. “I can try, but really no promising.” She put her camera down and yawned. “Gosh, this food looks divine. I’m starved and I would totally taste some right now, cold, if not for—”

“Coffee, duh. Fleishig-phobia.”

Shira laughed. “Yup.”

“So take it home.”

“Oh, please.”

“I’m serious,” Deena said. “Take it home for your family. I never have what to do with all this food. My kids won’t touch it, it’ll go to waste.”

Shira kept her face considerately free of pity. “Look, if you’re sure, I’ll take you up on that. I didn’t think about supper yet, so yay, free night for me.”

“Amazing.” In the kitchen, Deena pulled out a 9×13-inch and poured in all the remaining lo mein. Peppers and onions and mushrooms glistened between beef chunks. She fastened the pan lid and returned to the studio.

“Here you go,” she told Shira. “It’s a bribe, to get those edits done on time.”

Shira groaned, but an hour later, the edited photos were saved on Deena’s Drive. At 2:15, the post went up. Then Deena powered her tablet off and grabbed her car keys.

The day was over.

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 733)