Stepping into the walk-in, I use the clipboard in my hand to take inventory of the fruit delivery Maven’s restaurant received today, making sure the kitchen has enough to get through until its next delivery on Wednesday.
“Okay, great,” Violet continues, stepping into the cold walk-in, head down, scrolling through her iPad. “Since the restaurant is closed tomorrow, I have another interview scheduled for tomorrow morning with this big-time blogger that goes by Pinch of Salt.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary?” I mentally inventory the shelves, counting crates of persimmons, pears, and figs. “I have my Food & Wine interview tomorrow afternoon, and I’m sure by now anyone who gives a shit is well aware that I’m back to work.”
“Miller, we’re capitalizing. Striking while the iron’s hot.”
“Well, I’d really like the iron to cool the fuck down so I can take a second to breathe. I haven’t had a single moment alone since I got to LA unless I’m showering or sleeping.”
“Yeah, about that.” Violet continues, nose down, looking over my schedule. “What do you think about taking some phone interviews while you’re showering? You know, really take advantage of every minute of the day.”
I turn on her. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Of course I am. Did you leave your sense of humor in Chicago?”
Sense of humor. Heart. Both are still there, I think.
“I’ll tell you what, I’ll tell Pinch of Salt that it’ll be a quick chat on Tuesday instead. That’ll give you tomorrow morning off before your interview with Food & Wine.”
I nod. “I can do that.”
The walk-in door swings open to reveal Jenny, one of the two line cooks on desserts, holding a carton of raspberries in her hand. “Chef, we have a problem.”
The kitchen is chaos behind her, busy bodies moving to get set up for the dinner rush.
“The raspberries that were delivered today are sour. Real sour.”
I take one from the carton, holding it to my nose. She’s right, they’re far more sour than they are tart, but I pop it in my mouth to be sure.
Shit. They’re bad, and I have a white chocolate mousse with a raspberry crémeux on the menu for tonight, one that I’ve been designing for the last two days and prepping all afternoon, minus the hour I took to interview with yet another food blogger.
“All of them are like this?” I ask.
“All of them. Maybe we can swap a blackberry crémeux instead? Those were also delivered today but they look good.”
“No. It won’t have the right flavor profile.”
“Yes, Chef.” Jenny’s eyes refocus on her feet.
“That’s not a bad idea, though,” I quickly correct. “The blackberries are a bit too tart for that dish, but you’re thinking on your feet. I like that.”
Her lips slightly lift at the corners. “Thank you, Chef.”
My eyes dart to the box of pears that were also delivered today. They’re meant for the poached pear dish I have planned for Tuesday’s dinner service, but I can figure out the future later.
“Get rid of the raspberries. Tell Chef Maven that we’re pulling the mousse and swapping it for the poached pear dessert I planned for Tuesday. The pistachio soufflé stays. And would you mind going to the freezer and checking on the chocolate sorbet?”
“Yes, Chef.”
“And please make sure Chef Maven knows why we’re changing the menu. Your kitchen needs reliable suppliers and this one doesn’t seem to be one.”
“Of course, Chef.”
Violet and I follow her out of the walk-in and my agent stays right on my heels as I continue to organize my station.
Tonight is my fifth dinner service at Luna’s, Chef Maven’s Los Angeles restaurant. While consulting, I’m not typically on the line unless I’m covering a call out, but I like to spend my first couple of weeks at a new job right here in the thick of it, figuring out how they communicate and what their timing looks like.
It helps me cater their menu to their kitchen.
“Violet, we’re about to start service,” I remind her while organizing my station.
My stack of clean dish towels are right where I like them and my knives are ready and laid out in the proper order.
“I know. I know. But I wanted to show you the Food & Wine layout. They sent it over to me this morning. It looks amazing and the photos are fantastic. Everything is ready to go. They just need to add your interview and it’ll be off to the printers.”
Violet is nose deep on her iPad once again, looking through her emails to pull up the article.
“Vi, would you mind showing me later? Tonight is kind of frantic with a whole new dessert I wasn’t prepared to introduce until later this week.”
“Of course, Chef.” She stops what she’s doing. “Have you eaten today? You need to eat before the rush.”
Luna’s does a staff dinner every day before service starts. I, however, haven’t been able to partake in one yet, seeing as I’m using that downtime to interview with any and everyone who wants a piece of me.
“I’ll grab something.”
Except, I’m not hungry, and I can’t remember the last time I was.
I look over my station again, making sure that Jenny and Patrick, the two line cooks who are in charge of desserts, have everything ready for tonight.
Besides the poached pear that needs a bit of prep, we are good to go.
Through the pass-through window, I spot Chef Maven getting into position, my cue that doors are about to open and service is about to begin.
“Violet, I gotta get to work.”
“Okay. I have your phone. Where do you want it?”
“Would you mind dropping it by the house rental? It’s on your way home, right? I don’t need it tonight.”
“You got it! Have a great service.”
“Violet.” I point to my phone in her grasp. “Any important calls or texts?”
She hesitates. “An important email, actually. The photographer from the Food & Wine shoot emailed an image that didn’t make the cut for the magazine. You should check it out. It’s beautiful.”
My heart sinks with disappointment. Another day without hearing from him.
“I’ll look later. Thanks.”
“I need two Lobster Bolognese all day,” Chef Maven calls out to her line. “Jeremy, less truffle froth on the Bolognese. Your plating is getting crowded.”
“Yes, Chef.”
“Chef Montgomery, you’ve got two soufflés coming up. Table six and table ten.”
“Yes, Chef.” I eye the oven door, checking the count I currently have baking.
Maven runs a tight ship, but there’s not a person on her staff who isn’t top tier.
I chose this restaurant because I’ve been eager to work with Maven since she hosted a seminar while I was in culinary school. However, tonight is only the second night I’ve gotten the chance to work alongside her.
I’ve come to find out that Maven only spends two nights a week on her line, letting her second in command cover the rest. She works on ordering, menus, and prep during the day, then entrusts her line with dinner service while she heads home.
And they kill it. Every night.
“Chef Montgomery, I need one Bananas Foster all day.”
For the first time today, my heart skips, my hands freezing on the plate I’m currently working on.
The Bananas Foster is rarely ordered. It’s the off-menu vegan option, sauteed in a caramel-like sauce and served with a vegan butterscotch ice cream.
And I can’t hear it ordered without thinking of Max because yes, something as simple as bananas has me missing him and our days in the kitchen together.
Just like that, I’m jolted right back to that tearful goodbye seven days ago. How much it hurt to drive away from Chicago after leaving everyone outside of the stadium. How Max’s little blue eyes started tearing up, though he had no idea why, only that he saw me and his dad crying.