Wisconsin winters can be long and miserable. And this one was starting off to be a doozy. I had been friends with my next-door neighbors for a few years, but they sold the house and moved south. The closing finally happened, and a week later there was a moving van unloading. Once the movers left, I went over and knocked on the door with a small basket of food. I introduced myself and offered advice on the area if needed. My new neighbor was named Jim. He had moved here from the East Coast. He was pretty harried from the move, so I left the food and my number and went home.
A couple of days later I had a knock on the door and Jim was there with my basket. I invited him in. He apologized if he had been rude and brought me some homemade Danish.
"These are delicious," I said. "You made these?"
"Yes. I like baking," Jim said.
"Awesome. So do I, but I do more bread than treats. I've wanted to do more pastry or Danish but just never got around to trying."
We talked about baking for a while. We both baked regularly but had the problem of enjoying the process and not having an outlet for all the baked goods. We decided we would bake together and share, so that we could do more recipes and split them up. Jim looked at his watch and said he had to get back.
Jim texted me during the day.
'want to come over for dinner? I want to pick your brain about some things'
I agreed and went over to his house with some local craft beers.
Jim wanted to know if I had recommendations for home repair people and other things in the neighborhood. Over dinner I gave him my thoughts on the area.
"Thanks Jim. That was a great dinner. I don't normally eat fish, but I really like the way you made that."
"My pleasure. I'm happy to have the company. Maybe we can bake this weekend?"
Jim gave me a hug and I left. Saturday morning Jim came over and we looked over some recipes. I got another big hug, and we had coffee before we started. I had made a starter the night before and was going to make baguettes, Jim had a recipe for a fruit tart he wanted to do. We started the bread first and then worked on his tart. It was fun to have someone to cook with. I had been busy and hadn't really been very social for a while.
Jim was a very good baker. He was confident and knowledgeable. He was also very touchy. Not in an overwhelming way, but as we moved around the kitchen, he often put his hand on my lower back if he moved behind me, or sometimes put his arm around me if we stood next to each other reading the recipe. It was a little much for me sometimes, but I was ok with it.
We finished up the baking, made some lunch and split up the bread and tart.
"How is the unpacking going?" I asked.
