Page 19 of The Chef

Fen’s smile gentled. “I’ll be careful. You stay safe too. Don’t let the mobs of hungry soldiers trample you.” His hand lifted and Char froze in place, wondering what Fen was going to do. His imagination pictured a caress, and Char stomped on that mental image immediately. Fen didn’t need to know about the dangerous cliffs Char’s traitorous mind kept bringing him to. Fen’s hand paused briefly in midair, then went and simply clasped Char on the shoulder. He smiled and nodded, then turned and left.

Jensen remained behind. “Just letting you know; the kid is bunking with Laurence. He gets all the privileges of a full recruit, so three meals a day and laundered clothes, but he’s required to put in a full day’s work. If he shirks anything, let me know and I’ll take him back.” He said the last bit loud enough for Karl to hear, and Karl’s shoulders hunched in response. “I’ll be around at dinner if you have any questions.” He left, following after Fen. Char returned to work, hoping reimmersing himself in food would help banish every ridiculous thought Fen’s proximity had raised.

Char finished assembling the marinade—oil, red wine, a touch of vinegar, onion and garlic flakes, powdered red pepper for zip, honey, and rosemary—and poured it into largepreparation bags. He added the steak rounds, sealed the bags, and put them into the cold box. He kept one bag’s worth of marinade in reserve, which he would use to sauté the mushrooms later.

Next, he switched to making dough. He filled his largest bowl with flour, salt, and some sugar, and spent the next few minutes cutting up chunks of cold butter. Once he had enough, he used the large pastry blender to start working the butter into the flour. Getting the butter properly incorporated took a while, and the entire time Char’s mind was whirling.

Fen was leaving on an overnight trip, something so specialized that he had to lead the mission personally. That meant it was also dangerous. All Char could do was wish him luck and hope he came back safely, yet that didn’t feel at all adequate. There had to be something more Char could do to help ensure Fen’s safe return.

His brain flashed to the horrible nightmare of Roe, laughing while she explained how she had poisoned them all, and Char had an idea. He might not be there to rescue Fen if he were captured again, but at least Char could ensure their food was safe to eat. He would need to compromise on dinner preparations, but he thought he might be able to do it.

“I’m done with the beans,” Isa called. “What do you need next?”

Char pointed at the large box of apples, the first harvests from the fields. “I need half of those apples peeled, cored and sliced, please.”

The dough reached the flaky texture Char liked, so he set aside the pastry blender and went to get cold water. He added the water slowly, mixing it in thoroughly with his hands between each pour, until the dough came together into a firm ball. Hewrapped the dough and put it in the cold box, and then moved on to the next task. In another large bowl he mixed cinnamon, sugar, raisins, flour, nutmeg, and zested a lot of lemons.

“What’s next for the potatoes?” Ralph suddenly asked, breaking into Char’s focus.

Char looked up and saw the pile of peeled potatoes. He set his current lemon down and went to get two massive pots, which he set on the countertop next to Ralph.

“Cut them into chunks about an inch square. They don’t need to be exact. Split them evenly between the two pots. Once you’re done with that, please peel the garlic and the onions.”

Karl was still working on the mushrooms, and it looked like he would be a while longer. Ralph got to work, so Char returned to his lemons. Once he had enough zest, he juiced the denuded lemons, creating a slurry with his spice mixture. He set it aside to wait for the apples.

He paused, and realized he had a few minutes to work on something else. His mind went to his plans for Fen’s trip. He was serving pie for dessert tonight, but some chocolate too would go over well. Decided, he pulled out his sheet trays and gave them a light coating with oil. Flour, salt, and baking soda went into one bowl. In a large pot Char measured out butter, sugar, and some water. Once the pot started to boil, he added chopped chocolate and vanilla extract, stirring until the chocolate was completely melted. He transferred the chocolate mixture into a large bowl and set it aside to cool. He went to the cold box and retrieved his dough.

The chilled dough took a lot of effort to roll out, but eventually Char got it to the thickness he wanted. He carefully draped the dough into pie tins, making sure he filled the entire tin before trimming the edges. His original plan had been to do alattice top, but that took too much time. He would have to reroll the dough and do a full top instead, but for now he wrapped the leftover dough, placed a cloth between each filled tin, and the entire stack went back into the cold box.

Since he was still waiting for the apples, Char checked on his chocolate, sticking a finger into it to gauge the temperature. It had cooled enough. Char cracked eggs in, one at a time, stirring well with his whisk in between each one. Once all the eggs were mixed thoroughly, Char slowly added the flour mixture, making sure not to leave clumps that would dry out when baked. When the flour bowl was finally empty and his arm ached from all the mixing, Char added more chocolate chunks, stirring them in as well. Then he poured the batter into the prepared pans, slotted the pans into the oven, and it was time to return to his pies. The apples were mostly cut. Char went over to help with the last few, letting Isa focus on getting the last handful peeled while Char cored and sliced.

Isa moved on to peeling onions while Char took apples and added them to his cinnamon slurry, coating them thoroughly. He retrieved his dough and evenly distributed the coated apples between all the pie dishes. He dotted the pies with butter, and then rolled out the remaining dough, which he draped over the pies to form the top crust. He carefully trimmed the edges and pressed the two crusts together with a fork to create a decorative edge. He couldn’t help adding some decoration though, using the tip of his paring knife to cut apple shapes in the very center of each crust rather than more mundane slashes for vent holes.

The brownies were done. Char moved them from the oven to a cooling rack and slotted the pies into the oven in their place.

A glance at the clock said he had about fifteen minutes before he had to start on his next task, which was plenty of time to quickly slot in another recipe. Char pulled out flour, salt, andeggs. He dumped the flour into a pile onto a clean countertop, added salt, and gently mixed until the two were incorporated. He made a well in the center of the mound. In a separate bowl Char cracked eggs and used a fork to whisk them together. He poured the eggs into the well, added a bit of cool water, and used the fork to slowly combine the flour and egg—adding more water as needed—until he had a dough. Char set the fork aside and spent the next ten minutes kneading. Once the dough reached the right consistency under his fingers, Char wrapped it and set it aside. When the dinner rush slowed later tonight, he would roll the dough into rounds and use the back of a table knife to turn it into shells. For now, it was time to feed his workers.

“How are the mushrooms?” he asked Karl.

“I’m almost done,” Karl said with a heavy, put-upon sigh.

“The potatoes?” Char asked.

Ralph waved his knife in the air briefly. “Also almost done.”

“And I’m cleaning the last of the onions,” Isa added.

Marcus and Heidi at the sinks glanced over, looking damp and unhappy, likely because the pile of dishes had only grown thanks to Char making pies and brownies. They had chosen dishes over food prep, but they looked like they might be hoping someone would switch off with them.

Mentally calculating for six, Char found a medium-sized pot and filled it with some of the potato chunks. He added water and salt and set the pot onto the stove to boil. He took one of the cleaned onions, sliced it, and set it aside. Next, he took some cleaned mushrooms from Karl and sliced them. By then the potatoes were boiling, so he retrieved six steaks from one of the marinade bags. The steaks went on the grill. The mushrooms went into one olive oil-coated pan with garlic, onion, and a dash of red pepper powder. When the mushrooms had released theirwater and started reducing, he added a splash of the reserved marinade and covered the pan. The onions went into a second oiled pan, where he let them caramelize. He got another medium pot and filled it halfway with water. He slotted the metal steamer attachment to the top and left it on the stove to start boiling.

He took a fork and tested the potatoes, and when the fork slid right through, he brought that pot over to the sink. He used a pot lid to hold the potatoes inside and drained the water, and then brought the pot over to the counter. He flipped the steaks, then found the masher and squished the potatoes until they were completely mashed. Butter, a dash of milk, and they were smooth and silky. He covered the pot to keep the contents warm and set it aside. The steamer was boiling. He did a five second dice on some dill, then moved the pot to a cooler burner, filled the top with beans, dill, and some butter, and covered it.

“Plates, please,” he called. Dishes were dropped into the sink with a splash, onions, mushrooms, and potatoes abandoned, as the entire group rushed over. Char grabbed bowls, putting the onions, mushrooms, and potatoes each in a bowl and slotting serving spoons into them. By then the beans were done, so they went into a fourth bowl with a set of serving tongs.

Everyone received a steak, and then moved down the line of bowls to add the sides. Karl watched for a moment to see what they were doing and then dived in. In Char’s experience, street kids, particularly growing ones, were never shy about taking food. Even vegetables, which Karl took without pause. They sat at one of the long tables in the dining area, and for the first few minutes the only noise was the scrape of silverware on plates and chewing.

The steak was still slightly pink in the middle, firm without being rubbery, with pops of flavor from the marinade and the grill. The mushrooms and onions perfectly complemented thesteak, especially when mixed with the potato, which Char had kept purposefully bland for that reason. The beans still had some snap but were soft enough to chew, and the dill refreshed the palate between the heaviness of everything else.

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