Page 10 of The Chef's Kiss
“I can handle the old man.” I sighed, thinking of my difficult father. I loved him dearly. He never treated me the way he did the boys. He had been good to me in a lot of ways, but Dad was controlling. It had taken me a very long time to get out from under his thumb. Once I finally escaped, I refused to go back. If that meant I couldn’t go home, then Conrad was just going to have to get used to having me on his couch for the foreseeable future.
4
HUDSON
“You want what kind of fish?” The crabby lady at the local fish market stared over her glasses at me.
“I’m hoping to try your locally sourced turbot or plaice, maybe even barramundi if you have any.” At some point, I would speak with the owner of the establishment, but for today, I simply wanted to gather some local ingredients and experiment with potential recipes.
“What’s a turbot?” the lady called over her shoulder to one of her coworkers.
“The flat ugly one,” someone yelled.
“Oh, the expensive one. I should have guessed that.” She glared at my suit and rolled her eyes. I was getting that look a lot today, but I liked wearing suits, and I wasn’t going to let this little town change me. Superiore Bay was just a stopover on my way back to the culinary limelight. I would earn Lena’s restaurant a few Michelin stars and be on my way out as soon as the offers started rolling in again.
And if it weren’t for the stupid apple theme, that might have been a little easier. But I could make this work. Iwouldmake this work.
“I’m new in town.” I gave the fish lady my best smile.
“You don’t say,” she muttered as she wrapped several turbot filets in butcher paper.
“I’m the new chef at the Orchard Hill Farms restaurant. I’ll need to speak to the owner about setting up a weekly fish order. Right now, I’m really excited to try out your best filets. What would you recommend?” I glanced back at my phone, hoping for an email from the last restaurant owner I interviewed with before I accepted this job. There was still time to land the coveted position in New York and call this whole thing a speed bump on my road back to success.
Nothing. No emails. No texts. It was like my entire social life back home had shriveled up and died.
“Try the salmon. It’s the best.” Cranky lady shrugged and wrapped up a few filets of salmon before I could tell her I was a much more creative chef than salmon usually required. Anyone could sear a salmon filet. I was the kind of chef that transformed ingredients into something so far outside the mundane that it kept people talking long after the main course was served.
That reminded me. I needed to source a local bakery for desserts. At least until Lena could be convinced to hire a pastry chef. Desserts were not my thing.
“That all?”
“Yeah, that’ll do it for today.” I took my carefully wrapped parcels of fish and paid with Lena’s credit card. “How do I get a meeting with your head of distributions?”
“Head of what?” Cranky lady really didn’t like me.
“Whoever handles large orders for restaurants and local markets.”
“Oh, that’ll be Barry. He’s down at the docks most mornings. You can catch him there.” She turned to her counter to help the next person in line, and I was left to figure out who Barry was another day.
I added the fresh fish to the cooler in the back of my rental and headed into town in search of a decent bakery and coffee.
Apparently, the only place in town where you could get a decent iced coffee was the un-ironic Hugga Mugga. After three days in this town, I realized there wasn’t a single coffee shop that could hold up to the Culture Espresso at Bryant Park.
I really missed the city. I missed walking everywhere I went. I hated driving. I missed the fast pace and the nightlife. This place shut down by eight o’clock most nights.
“Iced café breve please.” I stepped up to the counter, not bothering to look at the menu. I was typing out a potential recipe on my notepad.
“What’s that?” The guy behind the counter sounded annoyed. “I’m pretty sure that’s not on the menu.”
I glanced up at the short kid with one of those giant rings through his nose and winced. I’d forgotten where I was for a moment. “It’s espresso with steamed half and half.” I went back to my phone.
“Still not on the menu, bro.”
“Fine.” I looked at the menu in question and ordered an iced latte instead.
“How about a scone or a cookie?”
“Just coffee,” I murmured.
