Sizzling in Singapore (A Carnal Cuisine Novel) (3 page)

Kurt was gone so Mae was at it earlier than usual. There wasn't a second to spare to savor last night's delights. She checked the produce order and had a short conference with the burly butcher about the reliability of the meat purveyor. Thankfully, the head butcher was a competent guy from Germany who could take on the supervision of the meat stock. That was one less thing for Mae to worry about. The menu changes that she had hoped to have in place two days ago would have to wait. She moved into the kitchen to check on one of the guys who had recently moved up a notch from cold to hot sauces. He was a thoughtful, quiet guy from the Philippines and he was having a bit of trouble adjusting to the demands of his new position. Filipinos made up the bulk of the lower rungs on the kitchen ladder, but the upper rungs were a hodgepodge of Europeans and North Americans using their culinary skills as a ticket to travel and adventure.

"How's it going, Reggie?" She paused by his station where he was obviously preparing a batch of Hollandaise for breakfast service. Eggs Benedict, and many variations of them, were one of the classic favorites that went out of this kitchen by the dozens. Reggie's first day making the buttery sauce for breakfast service had unfortunately resulted in a broken disaster that had to be thrown out even though Mae had valiantly tried to salvage it with a little ice. That trick works well on a family-sized batch, but not so well on a grand scale. The broken sauce backed up the breakfast service by just enough time for the other line cooks to dish out a fine measure of ridicule to the hapless Filipino. He wasn't used to the abuse so common in Western-style kitchens and seemed a little shaken by what would have rolled right off Mae's back.

"Ah, Chef Mae. Thank you-thank you. I think we have better sauce today." He bobbed up and down like some mechanical toy. "Taste-taste!"

Mae dipped her little finger in the pot of sauce. Very nice, Reggie. Just the right texture and there's a good lemon kick to it. Just hold it carefully. Too hot and it will break. Too cold and it won't be appetizing on the eggs." She moved along down the sauce line checking that everything was as it should be.

At the far end of the kitchen near the walk-in cooler, Mae stopped to go over the list of cold dishes to be served at a luncheon in the Orchid Room with the
garde manger
. "They specifically asked for our steak salad with the
gorgonzola horseradish cream
. You're going to have to throw the salad together at the last minute or it will get soggy."

"Yes, Chef."

"I
want two mirrors at both ends of the buffet with identical
charcuterie
."

"Yes, Chef."

"The shrimp are in the walk-in?"

"Yes, Chef."

"I want my
wasabi cocktail sauce
with those shrimp, not the usual."

"Yes, Chef."

Mae looked up from her list to see the hotel's general manager making his way through the kitchen toward her.

"I hope to hell that you have something good to say to me, Claude." said Mae as he approached. " I don't mind telling you that I am worried sick about Kurt and I'm also done in. A basket case."

"Well, my dear Chef Mae, you wouldn't know it to look at you. You're absolutely aglow." Claude's French-Swiss charm was always at the ready. "I'm afraid I can't shed any light on our missing Executive Chef, but I can provide you with some temporary relief. We have a stand-in exec out of our sister hotel in San Francisco. He was actually retiring from his position, but agreed to pinch hit here until we sort the situation out or until you decide to take the job."

"Claude, I appreciate your confidence in me, but: A, I want Kurt back and B, I'm not executive chef material. I like it out here, I don't care for menu planning and I really suck at food costing. There's way too much office time involved in the exec's job."

"No harm in trying, Mae." Claude glanced at the checklist Mae had only begun. "I won't keep you. I just wanted to let you know that the pinch-hitter will be in some time this morning. I wanted him to take at least a day to recover from jet-lag, but he insisted on beginning immediately. He has a wonderful reputation at our San Francisco sister. It's really generous of him to give us his time in our hour of need."

"Maybe the old guy just wants a last hurrah before he hangs up his
toque
for good." Mae said as she turned back to the
garde manger
and his list.

"Oh, he's not..." Claude started to say, but realized Mae wasn't listening anymore.

***

When Nick entered the kitchen at the peak of the lunch rush, he was happy to see that the layout of the shop was identical to what he knew in San Francisco. He was relieved to find himself in familiar surroundings if only at his workplace. He could almost swap out the sea of Filipino faces for his beloved Mexican staff and feel right at home.

The gleaming stainless work tables, the spotless white tile walls and the walk-in coolers spoke of efficiency and order. The line-up of the workhorses--grill, flat top, oven, stove and fryers--were all in their places and humming the symphony of service. Plates clacked, food sizzled and " ordering...one fish and chips, one chef's salad--SOS, one Mulligatawny soup" became the chorus. This was the music of Nick's life and he loved it.

Sometimes, Nick felt that he had been born in a kitchen. Certainly, his earliest memories took place in the back pantries and occasionally the prep stations of the many kitchens his father called home. His mother had a bad case of wanderlust and travelled frequently. She was warm and beautiful when she was around, but she was the inconstant parent in his life. His father, on the other hand, was ever-present. He was an old-school chef, gruff and raw of speech, but passionate about his work and his son. He kept his only child close, even if that meant that Nick spent countless after-school hours in the care of prep cooks, dish washers and the odd bartender or waitress.

So it was at an early age that Nick learned more about food and its preparation than most people will know in a lifetime. Before he hit puberty, he could tourné a potato with seven perfect sides, clean a fish and all manner of meats, make mayonnaise by hand, and make and reduce a stock to glossy perfection. He had begun the journey as a child and that journey now brought him to the Elysium. He surveyed the movement of the dance and listened to the song of the kitchen and felt confident that he would be able to step into Kurt's place efficiently and get the job done.

He didn't want to interrupt the flow of service so he quickly tucked into the exec's office that occupied a small elevated platform at the back of the kitchen. A couple of the guys glanced his way, but the kitchen staff was so busy, they hardly had time to take notice. Once he shut the door to the office, no one knew he was even there. The smoked glass window that overlooked the kitchen obscured him from the staff's view and he sat down at the desk to watch his new team in action. He wondered when he'd run into that hot little pantry girl he so pleasantly fucked last night and hoped she wouldn't be pissed off when she discovered he was her new temporary boss. He would very much like to have a piece of that cute little ass again.

He turned his attention to the menu files he had pulled up on the computer and tried to concentrate on what he was reading. Jet lag was hitting him hard and he couldn't seem to will himself to stay focused. His thoughts kept circling back to those round globes of her tight ass pointing up at him and that sweet pussy dripping an invitation to mount her. How he'd buried his face between her thighs and made her shudder as he drew his tongue from cunt to asshole. Next time, he intended to pay a lot more attention to that ass.

***

Mae had left the kitchen in the capable hands of her line and gone to see about the luncheon. She had less confidence in the
garde manger
than the line cooks. The
garde
had a tendency to get sloppy if she didn't ride him pretty hard. When well supervised, though, his presentation was positively art. He was brilliant at all the intricate fruit and vegetable carvings that made the elegant luncheon buffets so highly sought after (and profitable) for the Elys's food and beverage department.

Today, she was pleasantly surprised at the way the luncheon was going. Everything was neat and orderly, all items were in place and the whole spread looked divine. Mae understood why her hotel was so well-regarded. Looking at the table groaning with the freshest and finest ingredients, made into dishes with exacting care and laid out with such grace and beauty made Mae proud of herself and her staff.

By two-thirty, the lunch service was done and the staff began to prep for the dinner.

Mae made some quick rounds of the kitchen, checking the prep for dinner service. The line was still very much up and running, but by now it was mostly poolside burgers and club sandwiches going out the door. The afternoon hours were critical for a smooth dinner service. Everyone had their jobs to do and today, it seemed there were no surprises from the purveyors. Mae was grateful for that. No last minute menu changes because the ingredients didn't arrive in time.

Being a small island nation, Singapore imported nearly everything from near and far. Most of the produce came in screamingly fresh from across the straits and the Malay fields. Beef and lamb flew in from Down Under. Rice and chickens from Thailand. And, as much as she claimed she was no good at food costing, Mae was actually pretty good at squeezing all the value possible out of all that expensive food.

After she had satisfied herself that all was humming along as it should in the main kitchen, she went to file the various invoices from the deliveries in Kurt's office. She climbed the few steps up to the exec's office and opened the door. She did a double-take when she saw a man dozing on the desk. His long arms wrapped around his head as he slept and a bright red bandana covered his hair.

The sound of the door being opened roused the man from his nap and he jerked upright. Mae stood in the office door and gaped open mouthed at the stud she had so thoroughly enjoyed the night before.

"What are you doing here?" The question came out of Mae's mouth even as she realized with a sinking feeling that she knew exactly what he was doing there.

"I probably should have told you before I...before we got together last night that I was here to pinch-hit in Kurt's absence, but things...well...you know"

Nick
's rather sheepish explanation didn't sit well with Mae. How dare he deliberately withhold that very important fact? If she had known he was going to be working at the Elys in any capacity she would never have given in to last night's impulsiveness. "Yes, you damn well should have told me. I would never have...I don't mix work with...I mean I avoid..."

"
Look, I'm sorry. It's just that you were pretty much irresistible last night. There's no harm done. I'm only here until either Kurt comes back or a replacement is found. Besides, we're not likely to run into one another very often. I'm not exactly going to be supervising every pantry girl at the Elysium."

"
Pantry girl?
Pantry
girl? You assume I'm a pantry girl, huh? Oh the arrogance!" Mae was doubly ticked off now. First the deception, now the assumption that she was some lowly salad spinner. "I will have you know, Chef Nick that I am your chef de cuisine. Furthermore, Claude offered to let me step up to the plate as exec and I declined"

"
I see. Well that is a bit on the awkward side, isn't it? Look Mae, no one has to know what we're up to. You're obviously a girl after a bit of fun, so let's have our fun when we can."

"
We're no longer up to anything. You knew last night that you'd be my boss and you should have allowed me to make the choice of whether we should...whether I wanted to..."

"
Fuck me senseless?" His smile infuriated her. "We were very good together. I can't say I've ever had better."

"
You were deliberately deceptive. I don't appreciate it at all."

"
You certainly seemed to appreciate it last night."

Mae felt a little tingle between her legs in spite of herself.
"Last night was a mistake and is now history. I'd be very grateful if you could manage to keep it to yourself. I've worked hard for the respect this crew grudgingly gives me. They would love to have something like this to tease me mercilessly about. I don't want my authority eroded by some meaningless incident"

"
You have my word that I won't reveal our dirty little secret," Nick said. Mae sensed a touch of bitterness in his voice.

"
You have absolutely no right to be peeved with me," she said indignantly. "You used me with the full knowledge that we'd be working together."

"
I think you'll have to agree that the 'using' part was entirely mutual."

Mae was tempted to explain that her behavior the night before was very much out of character for her and that she didn
't jump every man's bones. But as angry as she was, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of thinking that there was anything special about him. It was better for him to continue assuming that it was completely normal for her to have passionate sex with a random stranger.