Chapter 2
“You’ve got a special at table seven,” Graziella called out as she breezed through the swinging doors into the kitchen at Angelo’s restaurant. She dumped a stack of empty bowls with a clatter in front of Marko the dishwasher.
“What kind of special?” Angelo didn’t even bother to look up from the Veal Florentine he was plating. An almost invisible shaving of truffle, followed by a fistful of fresh mozzarella and shove it under the broiler to finish.
“Wants the chef on the floor,” she had to shout a little to be heard over the typical kitchen mayhem of orders rattling back and forth and pans clattering against the stove as Manuel, the sous chef caramelized some onions in Marsala wine adding a brightness to the richer tomato overtones that generally permeated the air.
“I’m busy.
