Page 16 of Chef's Kiss

“The teleprompter says a cup,” she says. “Allow me.”

She shakes the bottle a couple times. “To make sure all the freshest parts get to the top. Plus the bit of foam will make it more fun,” she says. That’s the first I’ve ever heard it described like that. Then she just tilts the bottle and dumps some in the mixing bowl.

“You don’t measure ingredients, Charlotte?”

The teleprompter flashes “GET HER UNDER CONTROL” I turn and look at the producer and snarl. Nobody tells my woman what to do, especially not another man.

“After you’ve cooked as long as I have you don’t need too. Plus cooking is supposed to be fun, an adventure. If you measure everything where’s the variety? Where’s the artistry? And more importantly it just makes cooking more stressful and time consuming, and puts people off doing it. They just order out instead. If we just kinda free flow we can enjoy the journey together, and if it’s not perfect we’ll still enjoy it because we did it together, our own way. And even if it’s a bit off, it will still be good enough.”

The crowd claps even more than before as Charlotte grabs the whisker and quickly stirs everything together.

“You go girl,” I say.

“Oh, I already went,” she says, and the crowd absolutely loses it with laughter.

“MORE. LET HER RUN WITH THIS,” the teleprompter flashes. Hollywood…go figure, they just go with what’s hot, but only after someone else takes the risk.

I playfully take a step back and fold my arms over my chest, the crowd really getting into it even more. “Just let me know when it’s time to eat,” I kid, and there’s even more laughter.

“I will, but first a word from our sponsor,” Charlotte says, looking up at the teleprompter. “If you want to guarantee the absolute best tasting Eastern North Carolina Vinegar Sauce, then I recommend you only cook with Christian’s Culinary. He’s got spice you can use on the heirloom tomatoes you can dice…one hundred percent grass-fed bis-,” she says holding the first syllable before finishing the word, “-on, that you can put in your freezer for up to six months on ice, for a good price for when the time is nice. You can even serve it thrice over Spanish rice when your friend Bryce Pryce asks for an extra slice.”

I look up at the teleprompter realizing she just completely free-styled that…one hundred percent ad libbed off script.

The crowd erupts, standing and the people start clapping for more.

She flows right into a new verse and I just look at the producer, as he bends at the elbows, his shoulders going up to ear level as he turns his palms up to the sky.

Movement to my left catches my eye and I turn to see our sales counter, which sits just off stage and out of sight of the audience starts clicking up…fast.

We hit one hundred orders like nothing, and zoom past one thousand not a dozen seconds later.

My producer’s eyes about pop out of his head and he spins his finger in a clockwise motion as if to suggest “more, keep this going.”

But I have no control over this, over her. This is all Charlotte, and damn am I proud of her.

For the first time I can remember in a long time, the main camera spins all the way around and points up at the crowd. They’re dancing!

I look back at the order counter and we’re closing in on ten thousand units sold since the show opened. I look at the clock on the wall, which counts us to the commercial breaks. We haven’t even been on air two minutes!

And two minutes later we’re crossing fifty thousand orders and I haven’t opened my mouth yet.

I do the math in my head, wondering if I should stop Charlotte so we can cut to our first break in a few minutes or just let her run. The way she’s moving product right now it’s more profitable to skip commercials. Now, that is a first.

I’m proud of my show and what we’ve done, but this is next level. It’s just seeing the way she interacts with the crowd that shows me just how badly we needed new life injected into our program. But it wasn’t just any life, it was her. And not just into the program, but my life.

The most important thing about all of this isn’t seeing how much she’s selling, it’s seeing how much fun she’s having. That anxiety that was lying under the surface earlier today has completely disappeared. She’s in the zone, loving life without a care in the world.

And at thirty-nine years old, and completely infatuated with this woman, there’s nothing more that I could enjoy right now than what’s happening right in front of my eyes.

Stepping back and letting her run with this is something I can’t put into words.

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