recipes with you. We’re going to
have a lot of fun making
a LOT of food!’ said
Mr Sublime.
Tangine’s eyes lit up
and a string of dribble
slipped its way down his
chin. ‘Hmmmm fooooood!’
he gurgled happily.
AHEM!
‘Yes?’ said the teacher,
looking round at the
students expectantly for
more sentiments of
appreciation.
‘IT WEREN’T ANY
OF US THAT MADE
THAT NOISE, MR
SLIME. THAT WAS
THE ROOM. THAT’S
WHY IT’S CALLED
THE COUGHING CLASSROOM,’ explained Florence.
‘Oh, I see,’ said Mr Sublime, looking a little ill as he watched a trickle of snot slide down the back wall, between two particularly dramatically posed pictures of himself with
a frying pan.
Grimaldi was trying not to laugh.
Amelia elbowed Florence in the belly.
‘You can’t call him Mr Slime!’ she whispered.
‘It’s Mr Sublime!’
Grimaldi and Florence smirked.
Recovering himself, the teacher flung
his arms out wide with a flourish. ‘Well,
let’s get started with your first cookery
class like no other! And do you know WHY
it’s like no other?’ Mr Sublime didn’t wait
for anyone to answer. ‘Because it has
been said by many – not myself,
you understand – that I am the BEST cook
33
you’ve ever met or are likely to meet.’
‘That’s quite a statement,’ whispered
Grimaldi. ‘I always thought my Grimpapa
was the best cook around . . .’
‘I think you’ll find Wooo is definitely the
best!’ Amelia replied.
‘Tonight, class, we will be making my
favourite recipe!’ continued Mr Sublime.
‘I wonder if it’s Boasting Buns!’ Grimaldi
giggled.
‘Oh no . . . we’ll be making those next week,’
said the teacher looking straight at
Grimaldi, whose deathly pale cheeks flushed
with embarrassment. ‘This week, we’ll be
making Sublime Cookies!’
‘HEH, SLIME,’ said Florence.
Tangine rolled his eyes. ‘Are you
going to do that every time?’
‘YEH AND WHAT’S IT TO YOU?’ said
Florence, nudging Tangine off his plinth.
‘You’ll find a copy of my recipe book It’s
SUBLIME Time! on your desks. Find a partner
and turn to page fifty-five for the Sublime
Cookie recipe,’ said the teacher. ‘All the
ingredients you need are in the cupboard at
the back of the classroom.’
The sounds of spoons and spatulas clinked
and clunked as the class split off into pairs
and began cookie-making. Amelia paired with
Tangine, who had grabbed five whisks to mix
with. Florence and Grimaldi teamed up
and seemed more interested in flicking
ingredients into Grimaldi’s eye socket than
making the cookies.
‘Stop messing around you two,’ said Amelia,
as a Perfumed Pea went flying into her mixing
bowl.
‘You’ll get us
into trouble before
we’ve even finished our
first lesson! Also, what are you
doing with those peas? There aren’t
any Perfumed Peas in this recipe . . .’
‘SORRY,’ said Florence, getting ready
to shove another Perfumed Pea up
Grimaldi’s nose. ‘COOKING S’NOT
REALLY MY FING . . .’
‘What?’ said Tangine, raising his
eyebrows. ‘But cooking is
so fun!’
‘THE EATING PART IS FUN.
JUST NOT THE MAKING PART,’
said Florence.
‘Well, keep your peas
to yourself,’ Amelia smiled.
36
‘Tangine
