Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
I pointed out some menu items for him. “This shit? Doesn’t fucking come fresh, I guarantee it. Same with this one. A lot of these items are made with ingredients that come from a can or are frozen or preserved. And sometimes that’s the way that it has to be, because of where your restaurant is located. But we’re in goddamn San Francisco! We have a bay right here, and wineries, and rolling fields, and fucktons of farmers markets. There’s a cut in quality and while it comes with a cut in price and people are willing to pay for that in the day to day, they don’t fucking want it in their fine dining experience.”
“I’m starting to be able to taste the difference,” Michael admitted. “I get something and make it or I eat it somewhere else, somewhere not made by you, at our restaurant, and there’s a definite… extra layer to your food.”
“That’s what will set us a cut above. Not fancier dishes, but fresher dishes, old favorites given a little twist here and there and made with true quality.”
Michael gave me this odd smile, and it took me a moment to place it. It was pride. He was proud of me.
That warmed me like nothing else. I could feel my face heating up.
Before we could say anything more, the waitress came to take our order. I stumbled through mine, glad I had already known what I was going to get. My face was probably redder than the tomatoes we’d picked out from the market earlier.
When the waitress left, Michael sighed and sank back into the booth.
“I’m realizing…” He paused for a moment. “Indulge me the ‘I’m so old’ moment, here.”
“You’re not old.”
“No, I’m not, but I do have ten years of experience in this industry. And yet… I’m sitting here and realizing just how many aspects of it - in the kitchen - I left it all to Theo to run. I guided him on a lot of things but I was always more about the books, the orders, the tables. He was the one running things with the food and I let him do that.”
“You trusted him. That’s not a failure on your part. It’s… if we can’t trust people then what kind of sad suspicious life are we leading?”
“True.” Michael smirked at me. “You’ve always been a smart one. But that’s my point. I appreciate your smarts, and how confident you are in sharing this knowledge with me because it’s showing me how I relied on Theo too much. After he left I just… trusted the other chefs who replaced him to be just as good, and now I’m seeing how many corners they cut.”
“I mean… Theo does have talent.” It stung to say that, tasted like a bad batch of sour lemon drops in my mouth to say it, burning my tongue, but it was true. Theo hadn’t just gotten this far on his good looks, although I’m sure those helped. “He just got too caught up in it and went too far, made things too frilly. And then no other chef was him, so no other chef could replicate the menu, and I’m sure that the replacements all felt a lot of fucking pressure, like, shit I’m replacing Theo fucking Summers. And you can’t keep up with a chef’s menu when it’s that fucking personal, you just can’t. So they cut corners instead to try and imitate him. None of them are bad people.”
“I’m not saying they are.”
“Well.” I grinned at Michael. “Theo’s a fucking asshole. But the others aren’t.”
“It’s a fine line in the cooking world between a confident chef and a fucking asshole and he walks it.” Michael rolled his eyes, then focused back in on me. His gaze pinned me to my seat, magnetic and grounded. “I’m glad I hired you. You’ve really turned the place around and opened my eyes. It’s clear that you know what you’re doing in a way none of the others did. I’d say you’re even more on the ball than Theo was when he was first starting out the way you are.”
Oh my God. My stomach flipped and I nearly jumped up and screamed, fist pumping the air in factory. That was what I’d been hoping for, professionally. To be told that I had what it took, that I was doing well.
“Do you really mean that?” I asked. It wasn’t exactly that I… doubted Michael, no. He’d always been honest with me and was just an honest guy in general. But I also had to be sure.
“Of course I do.” Michael’s tone was warm but serious. “I had to do a lot of hand-holding with Theo when he was first starting out. It was why our friendship was so strong, or why I felt it was. Clearly he didn’t. But you… I haven’t had to do anything. You’ve stepped right in with a plan and you’ve executed it perfectly. You’ve been a good team leader in the kitchen, and everyone loves working with you.”