New Moon Honey Cakes
Honey Cakes are perfect
treats for faerie friends! Celebrate new beginnings with dashes of cinnamon,
scrumptiously sweet friendships with a sprinkling of sugar, and a dollop of
honey for happiness.
What You’ll Need:
½ Cup of Almond Milk
1 Egg
2/3 Cup of Flour
½ Tablespoon of Cinnamon
1 Teaspoon of Salt
2 Tablespoons of Sugar
1 Cup of Honey
¼ Tablespoon of Nutmeg
Vegetable Oil for Frying
What You’ll Do:
Beat the almond milk and egg
in a medium sized bowl
Stir the flour, cinnamon, salt,
sugar and nutmeg together in a separate, larger bowl
Add the almond milk-egg
mixture to the spiced flour
Pour your vegetable oil into
a frying pan (½ inch deep!) and heat to 350°F
Drop the batter into the oil
one tablespoon at a time and fry until golden brown
Drain on paper towels
Coat your Honey Cakes in
honey and sprinkle with sugar
Excerpt
Honeycomb
littered the counter.
Jesse sprinkled
golden shards into the scrub and closed his eyes, imagining prosperity and hope
and truth, the ingredients needed to solidify the spell, cocooning around each
piece of salt. The spell shifted. Strengthened. Like a lock, the honeycomb
sealed everything in place.
“Will that
work?” Cole asked. He crouched next to the reassembled shelf, scratching idly
behind Waffles’ ear.
A smile pulled
his mouth upright. “Yeah, it’ll work.”
“What happens
now?”
“We package everything,
tie a pretty bow around the jars, and put them out. Here, I’ll show you how to
shelve product. Use the wooden spoons and scoop the salt into the jar. Fill it
to…right about”—Jesse tapped the jar an inch below the top—“there.”
Cole followed
directions easily. Every movement was slow, deliberate and precise, mirroring
Jesse as best he could. Once they’d finished, Jesse showed him how to tie a bow
around the lid with thin-cut burlap.
“I’m not great
at this,” Cole said through a grimace, fiddling with a sad, droopy bow.
“Don’t think too
much.” Jesse batted his hands away and undid the bow, retying it with practiced
ease. “If you try to make it perfect it’ll look forced and…” He smoothed out
the burlap, tipping his head back and forth as he searched for the right words.
“Disingenuous. I mean, that’s pretty solid advice around here. Magic is messy
and weird, but it’s honest. It never tries to be something it isn’t. Same with
candle making and bath bombs and everything else. Don’t dwell on making your
gift wrap look exactly like mine, just do your best to make it pretty.”
“I don’t exactly
know how to make things pretty, Jesse.”
Jesse tied a
bow, a little crooked, but good enough. He untied it again and handed the
burlap to Cole. “Try again.” Cole held the ribbon so tight his hands quivered.
Jesse could almost feel it—bones apprehended, too tense and strained to do any
good. “Okay, hold on. You’re, like, ridiculously tense.” He heaved a sigh. “Can
I try something?”
Cole’s flighty
gaze swept to Jesse’s face. “Something?”
Jesse pushed the
packaged jars aside and placed the stone bowl on the counter between them. He
glanced over one shoulder. Then the other. There. He snatched the water bottle.
“Can I see your hands?”
Cole didn’t move
at first. His jaw flexed. Caution flared behind his eyes. Jesse waited, nodding
from his open palm, dangling over the bowl, to Cole’s, twitching on the
counter. His hesitation remained, even as he unbuttoned his cuffs and let Jesse
take his hand.
Carefully, Jesse
smoothed the leftover salt scrub over Cole’s knuckles, pulled one hand closer
and pressed his thumbs to the center of Cole’s palm. Like this, guarded and
entirely human, Cole gentled. His shoulders relaxed. Tension drained from his
fingertips. Jesse focused on his hands, each one, pushing and kneading while
Cole stood entirely too still, attention fixed on him.
The apothecary
went quiet. Sometimes pressing trust through skin held more power than smiles
or stories. As he worked the salt into Cole’s calloused hands, Jesse realized
he probably hadn’t been touched this tenderly in a long, long time.
“Do these mean
anything?” Jesse traced the edge of the koi fish tattoo on his left hand. Laced
their fingers. Squeezed.
Cole’s throat
bobbed when he swallowed. “Apparently they bring good fortune. Figured I could
use some of that.”
“And this one?”
He took Cole’s other hand, touched the wolf on his forearm, then went back to
massaging the base of his fingers.
“I’ve been a
lone wolf since I was young.”
“Wolves usually
run in packs, right?”
“Usually,” Cole
said, voice hushed and low.
Jesse wanted to
read his palm. He wanted to map Cole’s past and future, find where his heart
line met his destiny, just to test the universe. Is this a coincidence, he
wanted to ask. Is there even such thing? He poured water over Cole’s hands and
washed the scrub away.
“Better?”
Cole wrung his
hands. “Yeah, much better.”
“Try again.”
This time,
Cole’s hands moved fluidly, pulling a pretty bow into place. He smiled at the
jar. Pride looked good on him. “Did you cast a spell on me?” he asked,
grinning.
Jesse’s stomach
fluttered. Don’t blush. He aimed his laughter at the ceiling and shook his
head. Don’t you dare. “Not yet.” He reached for the keys in the drawer below
the cash wrap and twirled them around his finger. “See you tomorrow?”
Cole’s brows
twitched and his lips parted, but he cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll
see you in the morning.”
Jesse wanted to
ask him what he’d planned to say—what he wanted to say. “Goodnight, Cole.”
Cole knelt to
pet Waffles before he shrugged on his jacket. He tossed a smile over his
shoulder, footsteps crunching through snow on the sidewalk.
Jesse let out a
deep breath. He glanced at Waffles, who sat on her haunches, staring back at
him.
“Don’t look at
me like that,” he whispered, and rolled leftover salt between his fingers.
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