Francine was not a particularly chubby little girl. She was actually not chubby at all. You might even say she was underweight for her age and height. But she loved to eat. She enjoyed every food she tasted. She said that if you couldn’t relish in the feast of flavours that awakened your taste buds, then you might as well not be eating at all.
Francine knew not only how to eat well, but also how to cook it too. She delighted in experimenting with new ingredients, with the most unexpected combinations, and cooking up new recipes that she could then present and amaze her guests. It was something different and certainly something remarkable.
Her favourite of all, however, was dessert. She knew well that people always wanted something sweet after any dish and acknowledged the importance of serving a dessert that melted in your mouth, arousing your senses.
And the best ingredient of all to do this was, of course, chocolate.
That is what she was melting to pour on top of the new vanilla and nut cake she had just made the day the doorbell rang.
She turned off the stove and took off her apron, as she opened the door.
He was standing there like a deity, unaware of how his eyes glistened as they reflected the sunlight from the open balcony door behind her.
“Hi,” he said, staring at her, mesmerized.
He was a delivery man who had just brought Francine the new cooker her godmother had sent her from Australia.
That was the day her life changed. And it was not just because of the better quality food…