Chicken enchiladas and carrot cake bites. That was what Zoe was planning to make on her day off that day. But it hadn’t been planned when she had gone for groceries a few days earlier, which meant that Zoe needed to head to the store that day.

Maybe after she was done with baking her carrot cake bites, she would head to the park and do some drawing, Zoe thought. Though, the question would be what would she draw. Animals, scenery? Maybe there would be someone interesting to draw. She would just have to wait and see.

Getting a fairly early start, wanting to have time to make the carrot bites and be able to relax before starting to make her dinner, Zoe was out and making her way to the shop. Once inside, she grabbed a basket and made her way to the produce.

Matt’s chiles rellenos was world famous.

Alright, not world famous, but it was definitely a favourite among his family members. His mother had made it when they were young, and it had become a staple at his house. Each of the siblings knew how to make it, but his was often cited as the closest to the original, and since Matt’s parents were situated in Florida those days, it fell on his shoulders to make it for the New York crew. It would just be his sister and two of his brothers, but it was as close to family reunions that they came to.

Having worked a kitchen renovation that morning, he had the afternoon and evening off. It was easier if he didn’t schedule shifts at the bar those nights, since it was often a lot to juggle all at once, and it was nice to have time to actually do things. The dinner was scheduled for that weekend, and so he would be getting the various items needed to complete the meal that day. His car was already full of a few of the items needed, such as rice and meat, but there were still lots of things that he needed to pick up. Making tortillas, salsa, and guacamole from scratch could often require a number of ingredients.

So, he found himself in the produce aisle, glancing over a batch of tomatoes. It was better to get things as fresh as possible, since they would chop and keep the best. After all, he wouldn’t be able to live it down if he made something that didn’t taste good. His sister would likely take over for good and he'd lose his title as the reigning family cook. There were high expectations in place that he needed to live up to.

As she wandered through the produce section, Zoe grabbed a couple peppers, a couple bags of carrots, then stood and thought for a moment. She had done an actual shop a few days ago, so Zoe knew that she had onions and garlic at home, so she didn’t need to grab those. But what else was she going to need before she walked out of the produce aisle?

Tomato sauce. Now normally, Zoe just bought the canned stuff, but she had gotten a recipe for tomato sauce from Emma and had yet to actually try it. This would be the perfect time. And if it didn’t work out, she could always fall back on a can of sauce anyway.

Making her way over to where the tomatoes were, Zoe saw a man standing there examining the fruit. Only a bit taller than she was, with black hair and brown eyes. Not bad looking, though Zoe had no illusions of him actually liking her. Not actually, not after spending time with her. No one ever did. Well, except for Jay, but he was different. And had a girlfriend.

”How do they look today?” Zoe asked, glancing at the man before turning her eyes to the tomatoes. ”Are they worth buying, or should I just stick with canned sauce today?”

Bag in hand, Matt began to pick through the produce in front of him to pull out the best of the crop. His fingers ran over the skin of a particular tomato as his eyes scanned over the rest of the row. Many of them were alright, though there were a few outliers that looked overripe. The ones closest to the front were what he picked from; without a doubt the best.

He was about to move on to the next item on his list when he heard a voice next to him. Usually, people at stores ignored each other in favour of getting their own stuff done, especially in New York, but the woman seemed to be talking to him specifically. It was a little surprising that she would go out of her way to do that, actually, since she could have simply brushed past him to pick one up for herself. It was an interaction that could have been easily avoided.

That wasn’t, however, to say that Matt was against talking to her. She was young, blonde, a few inches shorter than himself, and clearly focused on the tomatoes. Maybe she was just looking to talk, or maybe she really was confused about whether they were alright for tomato sauce. Either way, he was more than versed in the art of talking to strangers. Matt deposited his bag in his cart along with his other items and then glanced back at the produce.

Matt smirked and shrugged gently, resting his elbow on the handle of his cart. “If you’re making sauce then you don’t really have to worry,” he pointed out, nodding toward the red fruits. “It’s not really a big deal unless they’re still green.” They could be overripe and still do the job just fine.

The man looked confused that she had talked to him at first. Though, it wasn’t that surprising, this was New York City, after all. Generally, people didn’t talk to strangers in this city.

But, at the same time, there were enough people over the years that thought she was strange and weird, why not just go all the way and be weird like talking to a random man standing in front of the tomatoes? If he actually stuck around long enough to even start getting to know her, he would think that she was strange anyway.

Maybe she was being too strange already, Zoe thought as she noticed the man had turned back to his cart, placing his tomatoes in it. So she turned her full attention to the red fruit in front of her, working on selecting out some to buy.

Then it was Zoe’s turn to be surprised when she heard the man beside her speaking. Turning to look over at him, Zoe smiled. ”Maybe that’s been my problem with making sauce this whole time,” Zoe said with a slight shrug. ”I was too worried about the tomatoes themselves and didn’t worry enough about making the sauce. Maybe that’s why I never get it to come out very well.”

There was an art to cooking, that much was for sure. Matt liked to think that he was, at least, versed in it, though he wouldn’t by any definition call himself a master. There were certain things that could go together, certain things that couldn’t, and specific ways that things needed to be prepared. Everyone’s experience would be slightly different, but ultimately, the basic facts were the same. Everyone started from similar places, too. Put things in a bowl and mix them up to see what would happen.

The tomatoes were the items in question at the moment. Matt had his pick, but the woman who had approached him was busy grabbing some of her own. He’d explained that it wouldn’t really matter whether they were nice or not if she was just making sauce, but it just so happened that they were nice anyway. Whatever she ended up doing with them, they would likely serve her well.

She turned to him with a shrug and a smile, saying that she never managed to get her sauce to come out quite right. Matt nodded, able to empathize with something like that. Spaghetti sauce was not a go-to of his by any means, but he knew that for many Americans it was, and it could be difficult to get it to taste quite right. Many often defaulted to sauce from a jar. He had always preferred marinara sauce, but he could appreciate the fact that people would want to get the American tradition correct.

“What do you put in it? Bay leaves? Oregano? Anchovies?” he asked, providing a few examples of things that would improve the general flavour of the sauce. It wasn’t his area of expertise, but he knew generally what was involved in making a sauce like that. “I mean, ViewTube is full of video examples of how to do it, too. Might be a good way to get started.”

Zoe stood there, picking out a number of tomatoes that she planned to make sauce with. How many she would end up using, Zoe wasn’t exactly sure, but if she had extra left over, she was sure that she would find some other use for them. If nothing else, she could take tomato sandwiches to work. Or maybe make a tomato salad. That sounded good, in reality. Zoe grabbed a few extra tomatoes with that thought.

Hearing the man ask what she put in her tomato sauce, Zoe shrugged again. ”Normally bay leaves and oregano. Sometimes basil,” Zoe said, turning to look at the man again. ”It’s not that the sauces I made are bad, per se. I just haven’t been overly impressed with any of them. So I keep trying new recipes. I’m sure I’ll find a good recipe someday.”

ViewTube? That was his suggestion for how to find a good tomato sauce recipe? ”I may try that out if this batch doesn’t work out,” Zoe said after a moment. ”A friend gave me her recipe, but I haven't had a chance to try it yet.”

The question of what she put in her sauce had been simple, just to figure out why she wasn’t having success with her attempts. She seemed as though she wanted to talk, so he was willing to indulge her. Talking to strangers about their lives took up most of his days, anyway. It was something that he liked to think that he was good at, though he might’ve gotten a different opinion if he’d actually asked a customer.

It took a moment for her to explain that it wasn’t that her attempts had been complete light-my-kitchen-on-fire failures, it was that she just wasn’t completely happy with them. Matt nodded understandingly, moving his cart over slightly so she could have better access to the tomatoes up front. She was grabbing quite a few, so maybe she had plans to try out a few different sauce recipes. “So the real issue is that you’re a perfectionist?” he asked with a smirk, raising his eyebrows with the jest.

She didn’t seem all that impressed by his suggestion of checking out ViewTube, which was fair. She was likely a traditional cook; Matt had met a few people who refused to bring technology into their kitchen in the fear that it would change something good. His mother was one of those. She even shut off her phone before starting to cook. If this woman just didn’t like that sort of thing, then that was fine by him. Hell, he tended to just make things from memory or experimentation.

“Well then I hope this batch goes well for you,” Matt said, gesturing toward her as he spoke. Really, he wanted the best for her tomato sauce. He felt like he was invested in the success of it now. “What’s it for, anyway? Spaghetti?” That was often the default for most Americans when it came to dinner. It wouldn’t be surprising to hear that someone happened to be making it.

Finally deciding that she had enough tomatoes, Zoe put the bag into her basket and turned to the man standing beside her just in time to hear him speak. And see the smirk on his face as he did so.

Was she a perfectionist? She was more than willing to experiment in the kitchen, trying new things, and they didn't always turn out as well as she wanted; tomato sauce was a perfect example of that. Yet she would often go back later and try again, attempting to do better. And Zoe knew that she was far from the best drawer in the world. Then again, she had only taken at classes to help improve her diagrams in biology.

Maybe she was a bit of a perfectionist.

A small smile grew in her face. ”Only when it's something important,” Zoe told him. And cooking was important to her. Maybe not at the top of the list, but it was important.

Zoe's smile grew when the man spoke again. ”Thanks. And no, nothing as mundane as spaghetti. I was going to try my hand at chicken enchiladas.”

The jab was meant to lighten the mood a little; maybe get her from focusing on the ViewTube comment, and it had gone smoothly. She smiled at it, clearly thought about it for a moment, and gave a fair answer. He nodded, his smirk rolling into to a closed lip grin at her response. Did cooking matter? To some, definitely. It mattered to Matt and his family, so he understood the desire to have it go well. What was the point in doing it if it wasn’t worth raving about?

He had assumed that she was going to be making tomato sauce to top some spaghetti, but that wasn’t the case at all. Enchiladas. He had to assume that she meant Mexican enchiladas (which was too bad, in his opinion), but even then, he knew the traditional recipe and how it was meant to go. Tomato sauce was an addition made by the Americanization of it in order to make the process easier and possibly less intense. According Matt, though, that was cheating.

“Ay ay ay,” he said with a shake of his head, muttering something under his breath in Spanish as he dug through his coat. He couldn’t let this woman go through life thinking that Enchiladas were at their best with tomato sauce, even if they were Mexican and not Guatemalan. His hands searched through his pockets, finding his wallet, lighter, and cigarettes, but no paper. Eventually, he came across an old receipt in his wallet. Something from a trip to the store last month.

“Do you have a pen?” he asked the woman, nodding to her purse. There was usually something useful floating around in a purse, or at least something that could make a mark on the receipt. “If you can make this sauce, you’d be closer to real enchiladas. Much closer.” It wouldn’t give her a chance to perfect the sauce recipe that she had, but it would be worth it in the long run.

When Zoe said that she was making the tomato sauce, not for spaghetti, but rather for enchiladas, the man seemed to almost get upset at the idea, muttering in Spanish. Zoe didn’t know Spanish, she was far more versed in Latin because of the years spent studying biology, but even that didn’t give her much insight into what the man was going on about.

And as he stood there muttering, he started looking through the pockets in his coat, obviously looking for something. That made Zoe even more confused. How could her wanting to make enchiladas cause a man who had literally just met her make him upset?

Then he was looking back at her, speaking in English again as he asked if she had a pen. Frowning, Zoe looked in her purse. She often had a pen or pencil, along with some sort of little notebook for if she felt the urge to draw, or needed to take notes on something. A habit she had continued since school.

It didn’t take long for her to find a pen, pulling it out to hand over to the man. Only then did he explain what his problem was, and Zoe couldn’t stop the smile as she realized that he was giving her a recipe that was supposed to make her enchiladas even better. ”I guess that’s the difference between using a more traditional recipe versus getting something from a cookbook,” Zoe said, trying to make out what the man was writing. ”I feel like I should at least tell you my name since you’re giving me this. I’m Zoe.”

In Matt’s opinion, there was hardly anything that could beat traditional cooking. It was traditional for a reason, after all. One of the best parts of travelling when he had was getting to experience the varieties of food that the world had to offer, often from small places that weren’t tourist traps. Even when he was at some of his lowest points, that could make him interested in learning.

He had the memory of the recipe mostly sure, but he wasn’t entirely convinced that it was one hundred percent. He took the pen from her with a quick, “thanks,” and then began to write down what he could remember. Olive oil, flour, chili powder, cumin, garlic powder, and much more was written hastily on the receipt. He was writing it on the palm of his hand, so it got a little bit crinkled in the process, and his writing was even worse than it normally was. His motor skills were already decreased, so his writing was already pretty horrible.

“I’m Matt. Nice to meet you, Zoe,” he said, looking back up at her briefly as he paused what he was doing. He hoped that he hadn’t offended her by running over her idea, but this was important to him. Tradition, and not only tradition, but Latino tradition, was a big part of his life that he wanted to make sure didn’t die out with an internet generation.

After getting as close as he could to the recipe, he held up the receipt and squinted at it. Yeah, it was pretty s***. “Sorry, I hope you can read this,” he said, handing it over to her with the pen. “You might want to search up Red Enchilada Sauce just to make sure I didn’t completely screw up, anyway.”

Zoe stood there, trying to see what the man was writing down. From the couple words that she was able to make out, it looked like an ingredients list, meaning that she was right, he was giving her a recipe, but for what she didn’t know.

Zoe smiled when he introduced himself, though he had already lowered his head to the paper again. ”Nice to meet you, Matt,” she replied, then waited somewhat impatiently for Matt to finish writing. She didn’t even know what the recipe was that he was writing down.

That was answered a few moments later. ”Red enchilada sauce,” Zoe repeated with a nod, looking at the paper Matt handed her, along with her pen. It was certainly messy, Matt’s writing, but it wasn’t impossible to read. ”I’m sure I’ll be able to decipher it. Especially since you think I should check other recipes to make sure you didn’t forget anything.”

Tucking both the pen and the reciept with the recipe on it into her purse, Zoe looked up at Matt with a smile. ”Thanks. Really. I’m sure this will be great!”

“Yeah, you too, Zoe,” he replied. Could he say that it was honestly nice to meet her? He hadn’t quite decided. She had a bit of counterculture on the typical New York attitude, but other than that, all he really knew about her was that she needed some schooling on proper enchiladas. Still, it was polite to return the sentiment.

She claimed that she would be able to decipher his scrawl, which he wasn’t entirely convinced of, but he nodded with a bit of a smirk. Hopefully, it would get her somewhere. It was still better than regular pasta sauce, no matter how it turned out. Tradition would get her far in this case.

He watched her stick the receipt in her purse and he leaned back slightly, balancing on the cart with his elbow. “Yeah. You’ll have to let me know how it turns out. I’m more versed in the Guatemalan version of enchiladas, but the Mexican style can still be good. I just don’t make them as often.” It was less accessible, and it wasn’t his first choice. If given the two options, then he would choose the Guatemalan food every time. That was just him he knew, though. America was very much stuck in their version of TexMex. It was too bad, but every once and awhile, he would be presented with an opportunity like that one where he could right a wrong.

“Is there an occasion for these or something?” he asked casually, just trying to make conversation by that point. Maybe it was the fact that they were talking about cooking, but he actually wanted to talk. It was a little unlike him. Plus, people tended to make enchiladas in large batches, so it was often for a party or similar.

Guatemalan enchiladas? There was a difference between them and the Mexican recipe she had found for enchiladas? But he wanted to know how her meal came out? Zoe smiled slightly and nodded her head. She never really had anyone interested in what she was cooking or how it had come out other than occasionally her mother.

”Yeah, I can let you know how they come out,” Zoe said, smiling over at Matt. But then the smile faltered slightly, still looking at the man she was talking to. ”Though, I guess I’ll need your number or something so I can tell you, won’t I?”

As she spoke, Zoe’s smile widened a fraction. Well, this was one way to get a guy’s number, she thought, even if it wouldn’t go anywhere if he found out that she spoke to animals.

”Oh, no, no occasion for this other than I’m off work today,” Zoe said with a simple shrug. ”I just like trying new foods.”