It was bad enough he cooked; did he have to broadcast it?

Z

issel was in no rush to leave. She leisurely removed her hand from the nail dryer and blew gently on the glossy thumbnail.

Adeena glanced at the clock, trying to hide her growing frustration. Twenty-seven minutes until the kids would be home. Zissel sniffed appreciatively as she cautiously slid her fingers through her jacket sleeve. “Something smells divine,” she said admiringly, carefully elbowing the side door open.

There was a definite tang of citrus interlaced with a certain spice she couldn’t quite place. Adeena quickly locked up her beauty studio and hurried toward the kitchen. Avi had already gone to his Friday chavrusa. She had to check out the chicken he’d made. She opened the oven door, squinting into the depths of the oversized roaster bag inside. It looked like a giant sachet of citrus potpourri, with chicken pieces hiding between the slices of orange and yellow.

Avi put down the parshah questions and rubbed Mendy’s bristly hair. “Great stuff this week,” he said approvingly. “Now you can help Mommy serve.”

In the kitchen, Adeena handed the tray of potato kugel to Mendy, then lifted the heavy Pyrex dish of chicken and brought it into the dining room. As she placed the fruit-festooned bird in the center of the table, Suri Hellman’s eyes widened.

“I am so not a chicken person, but I have to try this!” she exclaimed.

Adeena slid a bronzed chicken bottom onto Suri’s plate.

Moish Hellman raised an amused eyebrow. “Now that’s a compliment. First time I’ve seen Suri eating fleishig in weeks.”

“Compliments to the chef,” Adeena said with a smile. “All credit goes to my husband.”

Suri sputtered, trying valiantly to cover her mouth. “Wow,” she said in amazement, “where did you get the recipe?”

Avi closed the Chumash he was looking into and straightened his tie. “Citrus is a great tenderizer for meat and poultry” he said. “I first rub the chicken with a garlic and herb combo then put it into a roaster bag filled with fruit slices.” He was warming to the topic. “You can add drop of natural soy sauce to give it a more depth, but then make sure…”

This was taking it way too far. Adeena cleared her throat and looked at Avi.

“Umm, zemiros?” she said.

She lived all week for this moment, when the Shabbos table was cleared and the dishes washed. Adeena sat on the couch, nursing a cup of tea, head back against the supple leather, lazily watching the progress of a Magna Tile tower. Then she glanced at the recliner, where Avi was stretched out, engrossed in a magazine.

“Interesting article?” she asked curiously.

Avi pinked a little and scratched his beard. “I don’t know if I should be reading this on Shabbos,” he said.

Adeena raised an eyebrow.

“The food supplement is running a competition. They want regular Shabbos fare, but with a modern twist.” He sat up expectantly, waiting for her response.