Fifty Recipes For Disaster - Book 2

Chapter One “HOW LONG on the spot prawns, Chef Kiara?” Robbs asks me with mock reverence from across the kitchen. Two months have passed since I was awarded the apprentice position at Fission. Paul Weston stayed out of the decision. No one was able to outright accuse him of being biased and giving the job to his girlfriend, but the rumors are swirling. The rumors about how I landed my job are the least of my problems, though. Paul and Jenny's upcoming arrival is what really has everyone talking around here. Every time I think of that fateful morning at Paul's appointment, I'm overwhelmed with the same sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. When Paul called me out of the hallway that morning, Jenny bawled and apologized over and over again. She even offered to get rid of the baby, but Paul and I were against it. Paul had immediately insisted an abortion wasn't an option. I agreed with him, but I still can't wrap my head around the idea that in roughly six months, my boyfriend will have a child with another woman. This wasn't supposed to happen, and I'm helpless to do anything about it. When the apprenticeship contest ended, Jenny left Fission. It's easier for me to deal with her now that I don't see her every day. Paul spent a lot of time reassuring me that I'm the woman he loves, but a part of me doesn't trust him. Family is important to Paul... he'll want to be a hands-on type of dad, and being with Jenny would make that possible. A year ago, I'd have never been in this position. The situation unfolding before me is a perfect example of why I never let anyone through my walls. But there is something about Paul that made me drop my guard. I am in love with him, and if this baby is going to be a part of his life then I guess it'll be a part of mine, too. I just hope Jenny keeps a lid on all of the 'baby mama drama.' “Chef?” Robbs calls loudly and brings my focus back to the present. “Prawns will be up in three,” I tell him. Never having to put up with Robbs Martin again was what I'd been most looking forward to at the end of the apprenticeship competition. But two days before the contest was over, Paul's prep cook Ernesto gave his notice. Ernesto and his wife had just given birth, and he'd been offered a better paying job that would allow him more time off with his family. Paul was overwhelmed and had no time or patience to interview for a new hire. Before the results of the competition were announced, he opened the prep cook position for one of the runners up. Jenny had already decided to leave Fission and take some time to decide what she really wants to do. Robbs was awarded the job by default. I'd expected the bitchy attitude he'd had during the contest to carry over into his new job, but so far he's actually been pleasant to work with. He shows up on time, he helps the other chefs once his tasks are finished, and he makes friendly conversation while doing so. I'm enjoying his new work attitude, but I still don't trust him any farther than I can throw him. Robbs already showed me his true colors, and I don't give people second chances... except for Paul, that is. I pull the prawns from the grill, plate them, and carry them to Robbs' station. He sets them next to the vegetables he's already prepped for tonight's seafood chowder. “Did you toss the shells and tails into the stock pot?” Robbs asks me, as if I don't know what I'm doing. “Of course I did,” I answer politely. I can't stand the guy, but I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of letting him get to me. “Thanks, Chef,” he says with a fake smile. I nod at him and return to my station. I'm doing an appetizer special tonight, and I need to get everything prepped. I prefer to do my own knife work, instead of relying on Robbs. I have plenty of time for prep work. It's kind of hard to be a chef's apprentice when the chef is never here... The toll Jenny's pregnancy took on my job was even harder than the toll it was taking on my personal life. Paul is constantly leaving work to go to doctor's appointments or to shop for cribs. Once he left just because Jenny was craving cheese soup from Mamma's Kettle and was too tired to leave her apartment to pick it up. I had a lot of freedom in the kitchen, but I fought for the job to learn from Paul, not to cover for him. I can't let myself drown in frustration. Not when a lot of work needs to be done. I fill three stock pots with water and set them to boil on the stove. To one I add cumin, cinnamon, and chili powder. The second gets saffron and kefir limes, while the third is seasoned with basil and rosemary. The pots begin to boil, so I toss a handful of salt into each, add my rice, and carefully replace the lids. I turn off the burners and turn my attention to my proteins. I'm making a sushi trio inspired by different areas of the world. I want to do a marinated beef tartar for the Latin roll, but I'm still torn between a couple of different fish for the Indian and the Mediterranean. I need to consider our stock of each of the fish, so I set off for the walk-in cooler. “Chef Kiara?” a voice calls from behind me. I turn and see Megan, one of the hostesses, standing in the kitchen doorway. “What is it now?” I groan. “Two things.” Megan blushes. “First, Lancing's called, and our order is going to be late by at least three days... their distribution truck is in the shop waiting for a part to arrive.” I exhale loudly... Lancing's is a small, family-owned organic farm. Paul has an exclusive contract with them for beef, lamb, chicken, eggs, and dairy. “I certainly hope you led with the worst of the two. What's the second issue?” “Chef Weston called, and he's going to be a couple of hours late tonight. I got the Lansing call first, and I told him about it... but... he asked me to tell you to handle it,” she finishes sheepishly. I'm infuriated by the news but I do my best not to show it. “Thank you, Megan. I'll figure something else. Did Chef Weston say what's keeping him this afternoon?” “No, Chef,” Megan replies. “All right. I'll go over the menu and see what we can cut... though I don't know how we'll get through the weekend without that delivery,” I say. “I'm sorry, Chef... let me know if I can help with anything,” Megan says before turning away and returning to the dining room. I continue on to the walk-in and survey our stock. There is plenty of seafood, so my appetizer dish is covered, but we're running dangerously low on eggs, steaks, and lamb. I grab tubs of tuna and sea bass and return to the kitchen. “Hey, Chef, I couldn't help but overhear your predicament,” Robbs calls out to me as I place the fish on my prep station. “I may have an idea... if you're interested.” “It's noon on Thursday, and we don't have enough food to get through tonight's dinner service, even if we cut half of the menu,” I tell him. “If you have an idea, I'd love to hear it.” “Well, it's only a thirty-minute drive to Lansing's,” he begins. “We don't have a refrigerated truck, but I have an SUV... and we have all of the catering coolers.” The idea is so simple and brilliant. I can't believe I didn't think of it myself. “I don't know if we can do that... it may be against health department codes or the insurance policy or something...” Robbs shrugs. “Call Lansing's and ask if we can pick up the order. If they say yes, I'll go get it. If someone says something about it later, we can tell them that since the distributor was all right with it, we assumed we weren't breaking any rules...” I consider the idea a moment. “You really wouldn't mind picking it up? I can get gas money from petty cash.” “Anything to help,” Robbs assures me. “I finished all of my prep work for the dinner service. I can leave as soon as you want.” “Hold that thought.” I walk into Paul's office and find the number for Lansing's Farm. I make the call and to my relief, Mr. Lansing has no problem with us picking up the order ourselves. He does caution me that one trip in an SUV might not be enough to haul the entire order. I thank him and return to the kitchen. “Lansing's has no problem with it, but you won't be able to get everything in one trip. Load half of everything, and Chef Weston can pick up the rest later.” I direct Robbs. “Are you sure? I don't mind making two trips.” “Keeping food stocked isn't our job,” I remind him. “We'll do enough to cover for Paul until he gets here, but then it's on him.” “Whatever you say, Chef.” Robbs smiles. “I'll head that way right now.” “I think I should go with you,” I suggest. “Half of everything may not be the best approach, and I know what we're running low on. Go make us a couple of to-go drinks. I'll get my proteins marinating and meet you up front.” “Coke?” he asks. “Diet.” Robbs disappears into the dining room while I quickly whisk together three marinades and start soaking my proteins. I'd rather be going to the farm with anyone but Robbs, but he's strong enough to load the order and he has the biggest vehicle. I sigh and silently curse Paul for putting me in this situation.