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If you've used our "Episodic Narrative Writing" lesson at the WritingFix Website  (mentor text = Pictures of Hollis Woods by Patricia Reilly Giff)

 

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[Becky Michel]

Family Cooking Tips

Maggie, Grade 9

 

1. Carefully follow the recipe.

            The flour tumbled down the side of the bowl to join the baking powder as my cousin Riley tipped the measuring cup over.

            "Next we need cocoa," I said, heading for the cabinet. I slid my finger down the shelves until I found the small round container that I needed.

            Holding the tablespoon in one hand, and the cocoa container in the other, I carefully measured out the correct amount, and then poured it into the bowl. A fine brown dust flew into the air before settling to the bottom.

            “I can’t wait until these are done,” comment Riley, while he checked the next ingredient.

            “Me either,” I agreed.

            We would eat them as soon as they came out of the oven. They would be warm and sweet, and the chocolate chips, which were the best part of course, would still be gooey. I could almost taste them...

            With a sudden start, my daydream ended as a horrible thought came to me. Since when did chocolate chip cookies have cocoa in them?
            Rushing over to the recipe, I stared at the name of it with frown. It read, 'Moist chocolate cake.'

            With dismay, I gazed at the all the ingredients we had just dumped into the bowl. It looked like there would be no cookies for us.

 

2. The microwave is not a substitute for the oven.

            My older cousin Jasmine and I watched the orange marshmallow peep turn around and around in the microwave, swelling up as the seconds ticked by. Our goal was to let it get as big as it possibly could without exploding.

            “We should probably pull it out,” Jasmine said. “It’s at least triple the size it was when we started.”

            “How about just a few more seconds,” I suggested, loosely gripping the microwave door handle. Suddenly, dark gray smoke began to rise out of the peep and float toward the top of the microwave.

            I yelped and yanked open the door.

 

3.  Always use the finest ingredients.

            Standing on my tiptoes I was just able to reach the bag of brown sugar on the third shelf, and pull it down.

            I undid the white clip that help the bag shut and grabbed a measuring cup.

            To my alarm, the small black body of an insect crawled out of the top and started towards my hands.

            My eyes grew wide and I screamed, throwing the bag down onto the floor. The large black ant now crawled out of the bag pursued by several other of it's kind. Inside the bag numerous more ants scuttled with their tiny legs through the sugar.

            "Get a shoe!" I cried.

            But Jasmine had other ideas, she snatched a pair of tongs off the counter and holding them by the tips of her fingers, used them to lift up the bag. Then, with her arm extended as far as it would possibly go, she rushed out the door.

 

4. Too many cooks spoil the peep.

            I stepped out of the kitchen, leaving two of my younger brothers, and my cousin Jasmine to start cooking the two green marshmallow peeps on the griddle. Only a few seconds after I left however, a loud crash sounded from the kitchen.

            What could have possibly gone wrong? I thought. I've only been gone for a few seconds!

            I dashed back, to find the griddle gone from its place on the counter, where it had been heating up, and lying partly broken on the floor.

            Jasmine, and my brothers stood around it looking shocked. In her hand Jasmine still held the two marshmallows.

            "Whoops."

 

5. Always be sure you are cooking at the proper temperature.

            We still had several minutes to wait before the macaroni would be finished, so I wandered away from the stove, looking for something to entertain me.

            After a few moments, I happened to glance back. My heart pounding, I rushed to where the macaroni sat cooking. Blue flames engulfed the bottom of the pot and were beginning to lick at the sides, trying to climb higher.

            Jasmine, also noticing the situation, hurried over, calling,

            “Turn it off!”

            Hastily, I pushed the button on the stove, and turned it, until the flames disappeared altogether, leaving nothing but a half cooked pot of macaroni and the smell of smoke.

 

6. Store cakes in a cool dry place.

            I came down the garage stairs, heading for the car. As I passed, I brushed my hand across the top of the box that covered the fire truck shaped cake that our family had spent the entire morning creating. Proudly, I remembered all the details of the ladder and the wheels and the windows. This was undoubtedly one of the best cakes we had ever made.

            I frowned as my fingers met air where the center of the box should have been.

            What...

            Slowly, I retraced my steps up the stairs to get a better look.

            My eyes grew wide as stared down through the hole in the top of the box, at the no longer perfect red frosting. Scratch marks, like something had clawed into cake, were clearly visible. It appeared some sort of small animal had broken through the top of the box and tried to eat the cake.

            What now? The birthday party was tomorrow and we certainly couldn't eat that! Clearly we had only one choice; start over and try again.