Romance Impossible(33)

Naturally, that was the surest sign that everything was about to go horribly, spectacularly wrong.





CHAPTER ELEVEN

Mise en Place





A mise en place isn't just for photographing cookbooks. Measuring out your ingredients and laying them out beforehand allows you to perfect your timing. And timing, my friends, is one of the most crucial components that separates the gourmet from the merely adequate.





- Excerpted from Dylan: A Lifetime of Recipes





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Jill





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Holly, one of the servers, was poking her head in the kitchen.

"Excuse me, Chef Jillian?"

I came forward, wiping my hands on a towel. "What's up?"

She cleared her throat, lowering her voice a little bit. Her eyes flicked towards Chef Dylan at his station, and then back to me.

"There's a customer out there," she said. "Wants to meet him."

I chewed on my lower lip. "What kind of vibe are you getting? Does she want to meet the guy who cooked her amazing food, or does she want an autograph session?"

"Neither," Holly muttered, glancing at Chef again.

"What? Is it bad?" My throat was starting to tighten. The last thing I wanted to witness tonight - or ever - was a legendary fight between Chef Dylan and an irate customer.

"No," said Holly, quickly. "It's...it's good, I think, but...do you want to come talk to her?"

I smiled reassuringly. Holly was an experienced server, but she'd never worked for a bonafide celebrity before. Then again, neither had I - but I felt like maybe I could fake it a little better.

"How's my hair?" I asked her.

She gave me a thumbs-up, and then led me out into the dining room, pointing to the table.

"There," she said.

The woman's eyes were practically glued to the kitchen door. Her face fell a little bit when she saw me, but I kept my smile glued on as I walked towards her.#p#分页标题#e#

"Hello," I said. "I hope you're having a nice evening. I understand that you wanted to speak to someone from the kitchen?"

"Chef Dylan," she said, a little louder than was strictly necessary. Someone from the next table turned their head, just a little. "I want to meet Chef Dylan. It's why I came here."

"Well, I hope the meal was a nice bonus surprise," I said, with a joviality I didn't feel. "Chef Dylan is very busy, but he usually comes out to the dining room to mingle whenever he has a chance."

She smiled humorlessly. "I'm only in town for tonight. I know he's here. I'm sure he can spare five minutes, if you just ask him."

There was something in her eyes that made me very uneasy. I felt an absurd instinct to protect Chef, somehow, but I knew I couldn't. The last thing we needed was a story circulating about how Chef was too rude and stuck-up to meet with a fan in his restaurant.

"All right," I said, smile still pasted on firmly. "I'll see what I can do."

I felt ridiculously nervous, walking up to Chef. He was absorbed in his work and didn't seem to notice me, so I stood behind him silently for a moment, trying to formulate what I was going to say.

"Well? You going to stand there all night?"

I almost jumped out of my skin. He hadn't turned around, but I should have guessed that he knew I was there.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know you're busy, but there's someone out there who wants to meet you."

"All right," he said. Without hesitation, he turned around and tossed away the kitchen rag that was slung over his shoulder. "Keep an eye on all this? I'll just be a minute."

I nodded, picking up a spoon. Of course, this was no big deal to him. I felt stupid for worrying, but still, the unpleasant feeling in my chest didn't go away. Once I was sure that the food could go unwatched for a moment, I went over to the door, peeking through the tiny round window.

Chef had turned up the charm. Even from here, I was sure I could see the blush that was blooming on the woman's cheeks, every time he smiled at her.

Ridiculous. Pathetic. She thinks she has a crush on him, because she saw him on TV once or twice? Grow up.

An acrid smell was pricking at my nostrils. Had something bubbled over into the bottom of the oven? What was that? I didn't hear anyone letting out a colorful volley of curses, so...

Shit, shit, shit.

I had completely forgotten about the food.

"Fucking cockbite!" I shouted, running back to the stove so fast I almost crashed into Liam, carrying a bowl of pesto.

"What did you say?" somebody asked, but I was frantically trying to salvage the burning sauce from the stove. Smoke was gathering in a thick cloud above me, and I waved my hand uselessly against it.

"Somebody, get the smoke detector, please! Before it goes off!" I shouted, to no one in particular. The line cooks stared at me, frozen. After a moment, Liam rolled his eyes, sighed hugely, and lumbered off to take care of it.