Chapter One
Sarah Graber awoke to the crowing of the rooster, yawned, and then got on her knees to pray. She thanked God for the beautiful sunshine and for being able to see another day. Then she went to her closet and pulled out one of her dresses. They were so close to being the same, there was no confusion. She held it in front of her and twirled around, excited about the new day.
It was Sunday and therefore the day would be filled with many activities, including meeting with her friends at the after-hour singing. Sarah ran downstairs to start breakfast which was what she delighted herself in. First she went outside to the garden to pick fresh fruit and to gather the eggs. Then she came inside and imagined what she was going to cook. For her, each day in the kitchen was an adventure. She always enjoyed cooking, ever since her mother first showed her how.
By the time Sarah was six years old and baked her very first cake, she was in love with cooking. She knew what she wanted to spend the rest of her life doing – cooking. The problem was that cooking didn’t seem like anything special in the Amish community. It was what every woman did, young or old, married or unmarried. And for the most part, everyone cooked the same things in the same ways, but Sarah liked to use new ideas for her cooking. There were so many innovative ways of doing things but she did realize that where she was from, innovation was not a good word.
Sarah liked being alone in the kitchen because it gave her time to try out her new recipes, which her parents kept quiet about, for fear that they would get in trouble with the bishop. Sarah stirred fresh strawberries into the pancake batter and added a touch of honey. She smiled as this gave her great satisfaction. Then one by one, her parents and siblings joined her downstairs for breakfast.
“Sarah, it smells like you’ve outdone yourself today,” her sister, Martha said as she sat down at the table.
“Jah,” Sarah answered, smiling humbly.
Martha was the oldest, looked like their mother and had a small house of her own, although she wasn’t married. But she came over to eat meals with her family on Sundays. She was a teacher at the local school.
Her brother, John, sat next to Sarah and poked her playfully in the ribs when her parents weren’t looking. “Webishtew?”
Sarah shrugged her shoulders and said, “Gut.”
Martha made a face. “John, you never ask me how I am?”
John chuckled. “Okay. Webishtew, Martha?”
“Stop all of the murmuring at the table,” Mary scolded.
“Yes, Mudder,” Martha and John said, simultaneously.
But Sarah was too busy daydreaming.
She still remembered the day she rode into town with her father. Although they’d travelled by buggy through Lancaster, Sarah was eager to fit in. She noticed all of the big, beautiful restaurants with all of the beautiful people going in and out. When they went into a store, she overheard a conversation between two strangers about how great the food was at a particular restaurant and that it only compared to food they had tasted in Paris. That was when Sarah decided that she would be a professional chef and own a world class restaurant one day.
The problem was that when she opened her eyes and saw her parents looking down over her, frowning and shaking their heads, her future didn’t seem so clear.
