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"Hey guys, today on it's alive, we're gonna be making pickles,” Harry leans against the countertop on one hand. “You know, just your regular dill pickles, you can put them in the fridge, keep 'em there for a week, two weeks. You can do them crinkle cut style, you can leave 'em whole, do whatever you like!” He outstretches his arms, clearing his throat. “Anyway, let's get goin'! Jeffrey, why are you looking at me like that?” Harry frowns at Jeff behind the camera but his face is overcome with a smile shortly after. “You like pickles? I mean, I love 'em with some things. But a good pickle is never a bad thing, is it? With a nice sandwich, on some sourdough bread, delicious!”
It's some time later when Harry pulls out a ready jar of pickles that has been in the reach-in for a few days. “I don't like when pickles are too sour,” Harry looks at the camera after he fishes a pickle out of the jar. “You know what I mean? It's not nice to eat, it's all, kind of like bitter on the outside. A good balance between the sweetness and sourness is key,” he bites into the pickle nodding. “Good, not bad. I could've left it in there for a day, two longer but it's good. You want a taste, Jeffrey?” Harry nearly bends over the table trying to force the pickle to Jeff but Jeff only takes a few steps back from the station. “Impossible,” Harry shakes his head and turns around. “I need someone else to taste it. Who is here? The kitchen's deserted. Oh, wait,” frantically, Harry fishes out a new pickle from the jar. “Hey, Zayn, come here! I need you to taste something for me.”
The camera zooms in on Zayn, who turns to Harry with more than a startled expression. “I'm kinda in the middle of something, Harry.”
“Jesus Christ,” Harry rolls his eyes and walks over to the stove where Zayn is melting something, the fork with the pickle still in hand. “Tell me you're not tempering chocolate again. You're firing through the chocolate reserves of the world.”
“No, I only temper chocolate if I'm forced to on gourmet makes,” Zayn chuckles. “I'm developing a brownie recipe, actually.”
“Oh my god,” Harry groans. “You have to leave me some.”
“Okay, sure, there's gonna be plenty,” Zayn smiles. “What did you want me to taste?”
“Oh,” Harry remembers the fork with the pickle in his hand. He holds it in front of Zayn's face, nearly hitting his nose with it. “Take a bite.” Kind of reluctantly, Zayn takes a bite and the pickle manages not to fall. Harry looks at him intently, “Good? Is it sour enough? Too sour?”
“No, it's just okay,” Zayn says as he finishes chewing. He's still whisking the chocolatey concoction in front of him. “Crunchy. I like it.”
“Good,” Harry nods once, taking a step back. “That's what I was aiming for, you know? You don't want a soggy, soft pickle, do you?”
“Definitely not,” Zayn says, a small smile playing on his lips. “How long are you staying in the test kitchen tonight?”
Harry whistles, his brows furrowed. “Me and Jeffrey are gonna wrap this up and probably go. Yeah, something like that.”
“Oh, okay,” Zayn nods. His ability to stir a part of brownie batter over a double boiler and simultaneously keeping eye contact while talking is certainly admirable. “I was just trying to see if you'll be here for the brownies or if I should leave you some for tomorrow.”
“Oh,” Harry drawls. “I mean, um, yeah, I wasn't gonna stay but, ehm, brownies, yeah?” Harry leans against the stove and minutely pulls away like he was burned. He probably was. His cheeks are a bright pink colour. “I'll stay for those. Yeah, sure I'll stay for those. Who doesn't like brownies?”
“I'll finish the batter and they should be done in like, thirty minutes?” Zayn says, already turning off the gas and taking his mixture to his station. “See you then.”
“Alright,” Harry blinks, walking away. He nearly trips over nothing as he walks backwards, watching Zayn crack an egg in one hand and drop the insides into the bowl. He gives Jeff a look once he turns around and regains his balance. The corners of his lips are pulling up in a smile. “What's so funny, Jeffrey?”
“Nothing at all, Harry,” Jeff says, smiling behind the camera. His voice won't make it into the video but Harry's blushing and fumbling sure will.
xxx
Harry slinks closer and closer to Zayn, staying as quiet as possible. He hovers near his station as Zayn's putting some kind of dough together.
“So now I'm trying this shortbread recipe with a different proportion of white sugar,” Zayn says to the camera. “And then- oh, Harry, hi.”
“What are you making there?” Harry says, watching as the dough tries to come together under the spatula.
“I'm making Twix this time,” Zayn sighs. “I'm gonna need to incorporate all this with my hands, this isn't working. The butter is too cold.” He starts taking off his rings, leaving them on the countertop. Harry eyes one, a silver piece that looks like a rose. He picks it up as Zayn washes his hands at the sink next to him.
“This is nice,” Harry remarks, turning the ring over. “Looks delicate yet chunky enough. Good work. A nice little English rose, huh? Neat.” He abandons the ring where he found it and leans against the countertop.
“You're a bit of an English rose yourself,” Zayn comments, a slightly amused look on his face as he's drying his hands. He comes back to his dough, disregarding the conversation. Harry's a bit lost.
“What's really an English rose?” Harry asks. “I've been hearing it all around forever. In like, poetry or I dunno, people calling other people that. It's not about the flower? I've always thought it's about the flower and everyone was just using it weird.”
“No, it's not like that,” Zayn says as he works the crumbly dough between his fingers. “It's a person, kind of a description. Not sure where it came from but probably from romantic poetry in the 19th century or something. It describes a person who has light eyes, fair complexion and usually is a bit delicate.”
“Oh, really?” Harry furrows his brows. He clears his throat, flexing a biceps. “How delicate are these absolute guns? I'd… crush roses with them,” he puts his arm down and awkwardly shuffles around. “Not like, people but you know, plants. Although it's not really nice, at the end of the day, those plants are just doing their best, like all of us are.”
Zayn gives him a look. “You do have nice cheekbones, I'd say. Those are pretty delicate.”
Harry puts a hand to his heart, trying to mask his genuine shock with theatrics. He blinks a few times, a slight grin on his lips. “Well, thank you! You do have quite nice cheekbones yourself,” Harry's soon met with Zayn's gaze again. Completely stoic, his hands still stuck inside the bowl with the dough, Harry's assaulted with his unfiltered attractiveness. “And eyelashes,” Harry sputters out. “I think. Yeah,” he looks over at the camera, trying a close-lipped smile. “We're men!”
“Okay, Harry, I really need to concentrate on this,” Zayn says, huffing out a breath. “If you're not gonna help with anything, just go to your fermentation station or something.”
Harry puts his hands up. “Alright, alright, I'm gone already. Never been here.” He walks backwards for a while, before he remembers. “Save me a Twix! I'm leaving to film in Washington state with Jeffrey tomorrow.”
Zayn doesn't reply but Harry knows better. When he returns to the test kitchen, he finds a small container with one gourmet Twix bar inside the reach-in fridge. There's a post-it on top of it saying, ' Saved you one. You can let me know how you liked it Friday over dinner?' Harry doesn't think he's ever smiled so wide.
xxx
“Harry!”
Harry lifts his head up from the cutting board full of garlic right as Niall parks himself at the edge of his station. “What's up, Niall? Here for some garlic? Beat the flu season?”
“Nah, just popping in to check on you,” Niall swirls the drink he's holding. “What are you making?”
“Oh, god,” Harry straightens up, the knife still in his hand. “Niall. This is one of the best things you could possibly make with garlic. So you got garlic, you got honey. But them together and bam , you have fermented garlic honey. Genius! I love it. You can put it on anything, in anything. Literal gold.”
“Sounds cool,” Niall nods, surveying the countertop. “You want a drink? I'm trying out this new one. You would love it. Strong but fruity enough.”
Harry scoffs. “It's like, ten in the morning, Niall.”
Niall shrugs, “good at any time of the day.” He takes a sip of his drink, this light-pink mix with some rosemary sticking out of the glass. He moans over the taste, smacking his lips. “You sure you don't want some?”
“Yes, of course, I'm sure, I don't do day drinking,” Harry cocks his head. “Well, not morning drinking. Try again at two PM.”
“You know that bar I recommend to you and Zayn the other day?” Niall says, taking another sip. Harry freezes. “They have a similar drink there but something's off about the flavour. This is my spin on it. Did you have it there?”
“I don't think so,” Harry says quickly before he turns to the camera. “Jeffrey, you're cutting this out. I don't need my dirty laundry out here.”
Jeff gives Harry a thumbs up. He's already thinking about an animation of a clothesline with underpants.
xxx
“So today for it's alive,” Harry starts. The kitchen nearly has an echo because it's so empty. “I have a special guest. Well, not that special, it's literally just Zayn. We're gonna bake sourdough bread together because why not?” Harry drums his hands on the countertop. “But he's late. As always. I mean, with him you need to prepare at least an extra ten minutes to wait for him. Never on time, that one. Literally not once. You know, Jeffrey, one time, the other week actually, we-”
“Good morning, everyone.”
Harry turns around and sees Zayn walking towards them, his hair a bit messier than normal. He's carrying two Starbucks cups with coffee.
“You're late, Malik,” Harry says, trying to sound stern. “I can't rely on anyone in this kitchen. I have people unplugging the dehydrator, you're never on time, my stuff goes missing so I have to hide it like a squirrel. And here I am, trying to be organized and this happens again.”
“Sorry, I overslept,” Zayn gives him a smile and offers Harry one of the coffees. “I went to bed late last night.”
Harry accepts the coffee and takes a sip, hoping his blush will have disappeared by then. It doesn't. “Oh, c'mon, don't be a baby. I got here on time. And I live further away from the offices than you do.”
“Did you bring the starter?” Zayn asks casually. His coffee is sitting dangerously close to the edge of the countertop as he puts on an apron.
Harry freezes. “You were supposed to bring the starter.”
“No, I'm sure you were,” Zayn says. He smirks, the bastard. “This is your show, isn't it? I'm just here to be a consultant.”
“Oh my god,” Harry groans. “Now we gotta make the starter. This will take forever. Jeffrey, are you getting this?”
“I am, unfortunately,” Jeff mumbles. “And the battery is going out. Hold on, I'll go get a new one.” With Jeff, the rest of the crew slinks out of the kitchen in search of coffee or comfortable chairs. Harry and Zayn stay where they are.
“We weren't out that late,” Harry teases. “Besides, you can't complain about it. I find quick sex energizing.”
Zayn shakes his head, a smile painting his face. “I should've just stayed over. Learned my lesson for next time.”
“So there will be a next time then?”
“Next time for what?”
Harry gives Jeff as menacing of a look as he can. “None of your business, good sir. Let's roll.”
They get to the actual bread making part a couple of days later. Harry thinks he doesn't want to see a sourdough starter ever in his life. They're too alive sometimes.
“Haz, no,” Zayn says and puts a hand on Harry's wrist. “You need to fold it. You're kneading it.”
“How am I kneading it?” Harry whines. “I'm literally doing what you did twenty seconds ago.” Harry pulls his hands out of the bowl with the dough. “Show me again and god help me, do it slowly.”
“For fuck's sake,” Zayn mutters under his breath and grabs hold of the dough. “See, just folding it. One side over the other, you don't put any pressure on it. Just a simple book fold and nothing else.”
Harry watches the whole thing go by but it's far from simple. He associates a book fold with puff pastry and not sourdough. The dough just falls all over itself and there's no way you can move it in that desired pattern.
“Trouble in paradise?”
When Harry shifts his torso slightly, he sees Nick coming over with a tiny glass of coffee in his hand. “We're fine,” Harry says.
“What are you making?” Nick asks, peering over both of them into the bowl. “This is for it's alive, right?”
“Yes but I'm not gonna be alive for much longer if we can't move past book folds or whatever,” Harry quips. From Zayn comes a quick, “It's literally so easy.”
“I bake my bread just fine but bring a pastry cook into it and suddenly it's a science,” Harry says. “Jeffrey, are we still rolling?”
“Obviously.”
“A lovers' quarrel,” Nick chuckles and takes a sip of his coffee. “Loving it.”
Harry squints at Nick's back as he walks away from the test kitchen. “We're fine! Just peachy! It's the bread !”
“Whatever,” Nick says back, barely audible. Harry frowns after him. It's really just the bread.
xxx
“Alright, so once you have everything here, you're going to want to get your hands to it,” Harry says, pointing around at the various bowls and jars. “Don't be scared, just wash your hands and mix that kraut as much your heart desires. Get in it really good, squeeze it a little.” He starts taking off his rings, one by one putting them in an empty clear bowl. The rose ring is the last one to go. “Alright,” Harry says once he's washed his hands. ”Now what you want to do is mix and squeeze and all that good stuff. Back in the day, people used to just put it all in the big wooden tubs or whatever, and walk all over it. But we're in the middle of Manhattan in the 21st century, I'm not gonna just take my shoes off here and do my sauerkraut the old way.” The cabbage makes a rather interesting sound under Harry's hands. “God, Jeffrey, get your little camera here. Get that noise there. See how the juice is coming out like crazy? It's the salt reacting and the mashing, squeezing, whatever you wanna call it.”
It takes some time until the sauerkraut is put into its containers, ready to go ahead and start the fermentation process. Harry washes his hands and starts putting on his rings again. Jeff asks something off-camera.
“Oh, this little thing?” Harry muses, turning the rose ring over between his fingers before he slips the ring onto his right index finger. “It's, uh, it's a long story, I'd say. It was a gift, technically. But not really, you know? It always reminds me of Roses Are Falling, that Orville Peck song. God, remember when we had him over here? Probably the best episode of it's alive we've done so far. But yeah, it's really a long story, Jeffrey, nothing you would want to edit for the episode.” Harry claps his hands once. “Anyway, some of you will be asking what to use your kraut for. Be creative! It's so good with sausage, so good with red meat. Also chicken thighs, oh yes, roast them in the oven over some kraut with potatoes, oh Jeffrey, it's a gem. A real diamond in the rough or whatever they say. So simple, so easy and so good.”
Jeff is already thinking about a cheesy animation involving falling rose petals.
xxx
“I know that right now with quarantine, and social distancing and everything, it might be harder to get the real fresh stuff,” Harry says as he peels ginger with a spoon. “But everyone's buying the shelf-stable stuff and pasta and that kinda thing, there's loads of produce everywhere. So even if you're not able to get the farmers market stuff, don't worry. But try to support your local folks as much as you can, if you're able to. All these corporations, they're gonna be fine, but the small farms, they have it way more difficult.”
Harry's distracted by a lot of commotion to his left and suddenly, he has a black and white cat up on the countertop with him, meowing at him. “Oh, hello, you shouldn't be here, buddy. That's not where you belong.”
“Sorry about that,” Zayn's voice follows the cat shortly. “I was trying to trim his nails because he scratched the fuck out of me earlier today so it was long overdue.” He scratches the cat right above its tail and it arches its back. “But he's being a diva as always even though he got the fancy treats.” Zayn's attention goes from the cat to Harry's video set-up. “Oh shit, you're still filming. I thought Jeff had a thing and you stopped for a while.”
“Yeah no, it was just like, a minute or two,” Harry says. He turns to his phone that's one half of his entire filming equipment and smiles. “We kind of live together, ignore this. I promise we're social distancing.”
Zayn picks up the cat, offhandedly scratching it under its chin. “I'll leave you to it, babe. Sorry for the disruption.”
“You should make something together for the next episode,” Jeff's voice comes from the Zoom call. “Gourmet fermented food for the cats.”
Harry and Zayn exchange a look. Harry raises an eyebrow. Zayn shrugs.
“I don't know if cats can eat fermented stuff,” Harry tells Jeff. “But I'll do a quick search, ask Siri, type it up into Google. We'll see. It's not a bad idea.”
Zayn nods. “Yeah, I've seen a recipe for cat biscuits before. It would be worth giving it a try. Spoil those little beasts even more. Okay, I'll let you do your thing now. Bye, Jeff.” Before he goes, he gives Harry a quick peck on the lips. Jeff can be a menace but this will certainly be edited out. Or remixed with some knock-off royalty-free version of Careless Whisper behind it and the image flashing with disco colours. It's really either one of those.
Harry smiles to himself, blood rushing to his cheeks. “Okay, so once you've got your ginger nice and ready, you'll move onto cleaning up and smashing your ginger and garlic a little. Hopefully without any more cat disruptions.”
The rose ring glimmers on his hand when Harry moves his hand into the sunlight just right. The sight of it still makes Harry's heart flutter sometimes and turn him into a fumbling teenager with a crush. Nevermind English roses or some roses that fall. This is the only rose Harry truly cares about.