Page 40 of Knockin' Boats
You made it, Ash. Now, it’s time to make it happen.
I washed my hands, pulled on my plastic food prep gloves, and cranked up the grill and the fryer—so the oil would be nice and hot for serving. I’d test out both with a couple of menu items to make sure they cooked how I wanted.
As a bonus, I’d get to eat them. I was already starving.
But first, I piled the mangos I needed for a fresh salsa onto my small workspace. I’d prepped a lot of the other foods in the resort kitchen the day before, then spent this morning hauling everything out to the boat.
But I’d quickly learned I’d overestimated my refrigeration and storage space. I’d had to fill two coolers with ice to accommodate the beverages and fruit popsicles, and I had two boxes of dry ingredients sitting on the floor because I didn’t have anywhere to put them.
This wasnotlike working in my parents’ expansive kitchen.
While I sliced mangos, a bead of sweat formed on the back of my neck and trickled down my spine.
Damn.
It had taken no more than ten minutes for the boat to get hot as fuck. The kitchen had to be enclosed for sanitation, and I hadn’t thought to bring a fan.
And if the heat was bad today, it was going to bebrutalas the summer heated up.
I grabbed a chunk of ice and tossed it down the back of my shirt. If that didn’t help, I might have to jump in the lake between customers.
Assuming therewereany customers.
Ten minutes later, the toot-toot of a little boat horn came from outside.
“Hey!” someone called. “How do we do this?”
Yes. I got a customer!
I whipped open the serving window, grateful for the gust of fresh air. “Hey, y’all. Just tell me what you want off the menu.”
“We just use the QR code on the side of the boat?”
“Yep! Or, I’ve got—oh, shoot. Knew I forgot something. Hold that thought!”
I took off for the stern and grabbed the posterboard menu I’d painstakingly written out this morning.
There wasn’t a super easy way to put out a menu—especially one changing frequently—but I’d figured out a way to attach it to the back of the enclosed cabin for anyone who might not have a phone with them.
I got it up, then returned to the window. “Sorry about that! What can I get you?”
I got three orders for tacos, which was a little disappointing because it only required a little reheating and assembly, but I’d intentionally kept the menu simpler until I got used to the kitchen.
I layered chicken, then chipotle sauce, then the slaw and fresh mango salsa. I bagged up their food and handed it out through the window.
“Enjoy!” I said. “And please tell your friends.”
“We will! This is such an awesome idea.”
I grinned. “We have changing specials every week. Make sure you check back.”
I went out to the stern as they sped off, lounging on the back of the boat where I could enjoy the fresh breeze. There wasn’t another boat in sight. It was likely to be a slow day considering most folks didn’t even know my food boat existed yet.
Still, it’d be a shame to waste the mango salsa, since it wouldn’t keep another day. Maybe Vera could put it to use in the dinner service at the restaurant. We’d have to discuss that option because?—
Whoa. Hold that thought.
A Swallow Adventures cruiser headed my way, and it waspackedwith people. My gut clenched and butterflies took off as I strained to see who was at the helm.
