[Vacation Home]"Better than the one we made?" Judy asked, faking great offense.
"Impossible! That was the pinnacle of cookery!"After finishing this brief act, Judy began to load little spoonfuls of the cheese mixture onto the cut filo dough, and then fold it with finesse. Now that she was on decaf, her hands shook less than before, though they still shook a little. The bourekas were more symmetrical than they had been in the past, though this would be rendered a moot point when they were cooked.
"After lunch, I think we should go for a relatively gentle hike, while the sun is still up," Judy suggested.
"I highlighted two routes we could do on a map. Where did I put it?""Somewhere you won't forget it, kishka," Max answered. He took a piece of paper out of his back pocket, neatly unfolded it, and set it on an empty countertop.
Judy smiled at his use of this pet name (he called her kishka, she called him haggis, after the less than appetizing offal-based foods of their respective peoples, but only alone or among close friends), but it did make her a little flustered, in a positive way. She forgot, for this instant, to actually explain the unlabeled mess of lines and symbols.