Page 7 of Losing My Rejection

“That’s fine,” I replied, eyeing the giant stove and the deep-fat fryers.

“I’ve got pretty much everything in stock at the moment,” Sam continued. “Anything you want in particular?”

“Is that the walk-in?” I asked, pointing to a large metal door on the far end of the room.

“Yeah?”

“Show me what you need to get rid of.”

“I can make you whatever you want. It’s your first day after all–”

“Please?” I insisted, trying to sound a little less grumpy.

Sam nodded. “All right…” He led me into the cooler, pointing to a few things as he went. “There’s some potatoes that need to get used up and I got a ton of herbs this week from my supplier.”

“Who’s your supplier?” I asked, grabbing a large bunch of basil and pulling it to my nose.

“Local farmer and a good friend. He was one of my first wolves about ten years ago and he still gives me free veg to feed the others. He still won’t let me pay him either.”

“So potatoes and the herbs,” I said, making sure we didn’t get off topic. “Anything else?”

“There’s always some defrosted chicken, but the rest of the veg should keep for a bit.”

I started grabbing things off the shelves. “Great. That’s all I needed.”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows as I pocketed the basil and took a couple potatoes from the bin. “Are you just going to eat those raw?”

“No,” I said nonchalantly, grabbing a block of parmesan from the far shelf. “I’m gonna make gnocchi.”

“I don’t have any gnocchi…”

“You will in about thirty minutes,” I replied.

“You can cook?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you need me to show you where things are?”

“Nope.”

I really wanted him to just go away and leave me in peace, but he stood there watching me gather supplies. When I finally left the cooler with an armful of ingredients and started to work, Sam took a seat at the end of the stainless prep bench and watched with fascination. I did my best to ignore him as I got to work.

First, the potatoes were peeled, dropped into cold water, and then put on the stove to boil. While that was happening, I got my chicken prepped and seasoned before firing up the grill. I was just about to put it on before I caught Sam’s gaze. I heard my mother’s voice in the back of my head and I sighed.

“Have you eaten?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I was just gonna have some cold pizza.”

“No,” was all I said in reply.

Quickly, I peeled and cut another potato, popping it into the simmering water with the rest. Once another chicken breast was prepped, both of them went on the grill. After that I fished out a dusty mortar and pestle that looked like it hadn’t been used in about ten years. Giving it a rinse, I got to work on the herbs. Basil, parsley, garlic, and olive oil went in. And a few minutes later, a deep green fragrant sauce came out. I sat it aside, flipped the chicken, and tested the potatoes. They were done, so they got drained and immediately rinsed with cold water before being mashed.

Sam stared as I worked. He seemed absolutely fascinated by the peed at which I produced a gnocchi dough, rolled it into coils, and cut it into little pillows of dough. When the chicken hit temperature, I removed it from the heat to let it rest. After that the now formed gnocchi went back into a pot of boiling water. In the meantime, I already had a pan going with butter and garlic, filling the entire room with the most wonderful scent in the entire world. As soon as the gnocchi floated, I scooped them out into the pan and gave them a little browning on each side.

The final phase was my favorite. A little white wine, some heavy cream, parmesan, and my herbal mixture went into the pan with the gnocchi. Less than a minute later I had gnocchi swimming in a simple pesto alfredo sauce mix. Grabbing bowls from the shelf, I doled out a helping for each of us. The chicken was sliced on the bias and splayed over the gnocchi. Afterward, I topped it off with parmesan and a little fresh parsley, cleaned the edges of the bowls, and slid one over to Sam.

“There ya go,” I said, dropping my towel on the bench. “I hope you like Italian food.”

---