All was mayhem in the kitchen that day. The racket! The cacophony! Clanging, banging, clattering, rattling, hissing, splattering, crashing. Not to mention the groans from the frazzled cook. Actually, he wasn’t the real cook. The real cook had quit. In a huff. That very same day.
The “substitute” cook wasn’t a cook at all. He was a seminarian and this was a seminary. Truth be known—he was a lousy cook! And he didn’t have a clue what he was doing. Nor why he, of all people, was picked to do this!
In the midst of all this culinary chaos a knock came at the kitchen door. Just what he didn’t need. Another interruption. As if things weren’t bad enough already! He hastily assembled a packet of food—rye bread, cheese, plums and caramel cake—and staggered to the door.