Recipe for Disaster (35 page)

Chef Jake Goldman has twenty-one scars running
down his right arm. I know because I've counted
them. Some are already fading, but some are deep and
will lie on his skin for ever, mute witnesses to his
obsessive quest for culinary perfection.

Forget what you know, or think you know about
people who cook for a career. This is what it's really
like.

She bit her lip as she watched him read. It was infuriating
how well he could school his face into impassivity. But then
his lips twitched slightly.

'Surely your first shift here wasn't that bad?'

'Worse, actually. Some of it the readers simply wouldn't
have believed.'

I thought I was going to a gourmet's paradise. That
was certainly true for the customers, but there should
have been a sign above the kitchen door: 'Staff –
abandon all hope of a life, all ye who enter here.'

This was worse than her first day as a cub reporter,
watching while her editor remorselessly sliced through
her story with a red pen, as sharp as a knife. Oh, no, now
he was frowning – why was he frowning? What had she got
wrong?

'They just left the lobsters outside the back door? I'll have
their guts for garters. How many times has that happened?'

'Just once,' she reassured him. He bent his head back to
the article, only slightly mollified.

'God, yes, the flood was really bad. But so much has
happened since then.' He read on.

'You're looking cross again! Why? Which bit do you not
like?'

'I'm looking cross because you've got it absolutely right
about the teamwork involved and how it's not just the
chef who should get the credit! It's about bloody time we
stood up for the people who stand behind us, as you
put it.'

He read on.

Chefs are driven people, like athletes, or great artists.
They have a vision, but they are also haunted by the
fear of failure. Rising through the ranks isn't like being
on
Pop Idol
– belting out a few songs that someone else
has written. It's about blood and sweat and the black
dog that sits on every chef's shoulder, whispering:
'You got it right today, but maybe you'll screw up
tomorrow.'

She watched him and chewed on a fingernail until she was
practically down to bone. Finally he finished. He put the
article on the table and arranged it neatly so it lined up with
the edge. He seemed unable to look her in the eye. He must
have hated it.

'You are a very good writer.' He said this with a certain
amount of surprise.

'This actually comes as quite a relief, because you are
not,' he paused, trying to think of the right words, 'you are
not a brilliant waitress.'

'No,' she agreed.

'I mean, you've never really got the hang of carrying
more than two plates at a time, have you?'

'Well, no.'

'Sometimes you've had difficulty with just the two, to be
honest.'

'Come on! That's not totally fair!'

'I meant being able to carry two plates without getting
your thumb in the sauce?'

'OK. Well, if you put it like that –'

He surged on remorselessly. 'And you do have a habit of
sharing too much, don't you?'

'Sharing what?'

'Your own personal thoughts for a start. Things like "Oh
fuck, there goes another ladder in my tights." Generally not
the sort of stuff one expects one's waitress to utter while
delivering one's dinner.'

'Oh dear, I'd forgotten that.'

'And I think everyone on the street heard your
comments after you picked up the
pommes dauphinoise
.'

'They were bloody hot!'

'They had just come out of the bloody oven, that's why!
A fact that you would have cottoned on to if you'd actually
been listening when I said, "This dish is hot. It has just
come out of the oven." '

'Yeah, well, you see, Kirsty was telling me one of her
coma-inducing stories and –'

'So, with all this in mind, it's good to know you've got
another job lined up.'

Ah, yes. Of course. He
was
going to leave them.

'You see – oh, by the way, I'm not going anywhere, I'm
staying right here – but you see, I am going to have to sack
you.'

'Yes. I do understand.' No she didn't.

'I don't think you do, seeing as you've spent this entire
conversation looking at your feet instead of at me. The
thing is, I've realised it's just not on, having a relationship
with one of my waitresses. I really don't think it's very good
for kitchen morale or yours, for that matter, when I have to
bawl you out. But if I were to have a relationship with an
exceptionally gifted journalist, who was allowed in my
kitchen to make breakfast before going out to work –'

'You mean, start over?'

'No,' said Jake slowly, 'we can't do that and, anyway, I
don't want to. A good relationship isn't about chucking stuff
away and starting over, like you sometimes have to do in
cooking. I think it's about surviving stuff. I am glad we survived
this. We know each other better now and anyway, I
never stopped loving you, even when I thought I hated you.'

She went over and sat in his lap, so that she was facing
him. She was so full of emotion, she was, for the first time
ever, completely at a loss for words, but she knew she was
with the only man in the world who would ever make her
feel like that. So she kissed him.

Some time later, when they really had to come up for air,
she managed to say: 'Well, that's our first row over with,
then.'

'Yeah. I expect there will be others,' said Jake, but he
seemed perfectly happy with this notion. 'I should warn
you now, I plan on asking you to marry me sometime
before lunch one day. If we fit in the ceremony before
dinner it won't need to get in the way of service. That all
right with you?'

'Sounds lovely to me – just as long as I haven't got a good
story on. Where are we honeymooning, by the way? Over
by the sink while we're doing the washing-up? And, no,
don't kiss me again – it's very distracting.'

'Who cares? Oh God – I've just had a horrible thought!
Harry and Georgia are getting hitched too. They won't
want a double ceremony, will they?'

Kate snorted with laughter. 'No, but I'm sure they'll drop
by with the photos just to confirm how much more
glamorous their do was.'

'Yes, they are perfectly suited,' said Jake happily. 'Er,
don't look now, but we've got an audience.'

Kate swivelled round, just in time to see several heads
disappear from the window.

'You lot are going to have to get a lot quicker on your
feet now we are an award-winning restaurant,' he
grumbled.

'Does that mean we get a pay rise?' asked Godfrey,
popping his head up hopefully.

'Oh, that's so funny! I expect, as usual, we'll be lucky to
get paid at all,' said Tess, but she was grinning.

'Ooh, you both look so romantic sitting there. It reminds
me of a film I went to see with my boyfriend, once. Or was
it my Nanna? No, it was –'

'Shut up, the lot of you – can't you see I'm in the middle
of something!' yelled Jake.

'OK, we're going, but one quick question – what about
Harry?' asked Tess.

Jake shrugged.

'What about him? He'll always be here and we'll always
be fighting, probably. He was sent here to try me, as my
gran would say. I'll tell you one thing, though – it'll be a
cold day in Hell before we become friends. Now, bugger off,
all of you. No, of course I don't mean you, you silly woman!
I'll tell you what I want you to do.' He pulled her closer and
whispered in her ear.

'Well, I've never done that with chocolate before, but as
an investigative journalist, I'm certainly prepared to give it
a try!'

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Catherine Ashley
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'Touching and thought-provoking'
B

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It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in
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When journalist Jasmin Field lands the coveted role of Elizabeth
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And then disaster strikes. Jasmin's best friend abandons her for a
man not worthy to buy her chocolate, her family starts to crumble
before her eyes and her award-winning column hits the skids.
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