Sizzling in Singapore (A Carnal Cuisine Novel) (6 page)

Served with Bean Thread Noodles

Pork Tenderloin Adobo Style with Ragout of Roasted

Local Pumpkin and Baby Vegetables

House-made Ceylon Tea Smoked Duck with Lychee Sauce

Rice Pancakes and Garlic Greens

Mae was pleased with the five specials as well as the several appetizers and soups that she and Nick had collaborated on. Once again, she mused at his lack of ego-involvement when they discussed his ideas. He seemed to welcome the addition of her local knowledge into his extensive repertoire.

I admire his style. Very much like a smoother-talking version of Kurt. He seems to know enough to know what he doesn't know. Kurt used to say that was an essential skill so many so-called 'chefs' are too proud to cultivate. Damn, I wish I knew what happened to the bastard. He owes me some explanation…I thought I was more than an employee. I was his friend
. Mae tossed off the worry and gathered her wits.
Time to brief the staff and run the presentation by the chef
.

Mae tapped at the office door. "We're ready with the specials now if you want to have a look at them, Chef Nick."Cool and all business was Mae's watchword now.

***

"I'll be right there." Nick threw on his coat and buttoned it as he descended the few stairs into the kitchen. This was not the time to appear too casual. Although he wasn't a tyrant, Nick still had a great deal of respect for the old-school formalities of the kitchen. It wouldn't due to review the first set of 'his' specials in a ratty old t-shirt from a decades past rock n'roll band.

He was certainly not surprised to find all the specials lined up and perfectly plated. His uncle's hand was everywhere. Each plate had the elements of presentation represented in creative and effective form. Even the more difficult to present items, like the chili prawns, were successful. Instead of chopping all the asparagus, several whole spears leaned tall against a tight nest of the bean thread noodles. The shocking red of the chili sauce played beautifully against the green vegetable and the snow-white noodles and was artfully swept across one side of the big dinner plate.

The lamb looked mouth watering. Nick knew that was going to be his favorite and a big hit. He had worried that it would be a monotone of brown, but the yellow of the turmeric in the curry sauce brightened the braise considerably. Ringing the shank and sauce propped against the molded Basmati were shiny drops of a brilliant green that added just the right note to the entire look of the plate. "Cilantro oil?" he asked.

Mae nodded. "I hope you don't mind that I made the addition. The color palette was a little dull."

"Perfect touch. I was concerned about the color issue on that plate. Cilantro is the natural choice." Nick found nothing to criticize in the plating and began to methodically taste a tiny portion of each dish.

"Personally, I'd like much more chili in the prawns. I suggest you offer the customer a choice of heats or provide some extra sauce with the serving, on the side."

"Yes, Chef Nick," Tank answered. He was on sauté and that included the wok so the prawns were his responsibility.

"I know that you don't want to serve the ragout as mush, but I do think that a few of those baby vegetables could use a minute or two more."

The expeditor, Jonesie, would put this plate together.
"It'll go under the salamander for a couple of minutes, Chef Nick. I'm hoping that will bring them up to al dente."

"Very well," Nick allowed, " But check the first orders and make sure. It isn't pork adobo with
salad'
"

"Yes, Chef."

"Okay, then. Good job everyone. Let's get the wait-staff briefed and I think we're good to go." And with that Nick gave them all a postcard perfect smile and headed straight back up to his office.

***

That's it? That's all? Wow. Don't give up too much effort there, Nick. I mean it's grand that you find our work so perfectly executed, but surely there's something more you could say
. Without knowing why, Mae found herself actually miffed that the man didn't have more criticism to levy. His casual attitude struck a nerve just as she was beginning to grant him some grudging respect.

Mae had no idea what arrangements the Elysium management had made with Nick Seville, but it obviously wasn't anything important enough to warrant his serious attention. Grateful as she was to have the paperwork monkey off her back, she still felt that a chef, even an executive chef, should spend at least a portion of his time and energy actually cooking. Kurt always found reason to come and interfere, as they used to joke, but it was part of staying in touch with the actual food, real people and paying customers that made Kurt such a good leader.
This guy is nothing more than a paper-pusher with a good food imagination.
Come back Kurt, come back!

Around eight o'clock the kitchen was rockin'and rollin' It had turned into a very busy Thursday night. Typically, the hotel attracted pretty equal numbers of tourists and business travelers so weekdays and weekends were both just as likely to be busy. Mae was helping ready a ten-top for pick-up when she saw Nick make his way down the steps, coat slung over his shoulder. Without so much as a glance at what was happening in the kitchen, he loped out the back door.

If anyone else on the line noticed, they didn't comment. But now the slow burn that started with his nonchalant performance earlier in the afternoon started to ignite into a full-fledged fury. Mae couldn't believe he didn't have the courtesy to ask how it was going or even say goodnight.
This is obviously someone who knows his way around food but where's the passion? Maybe I can chalk the other night up to another passionless talent of his. What a waste. All the talent in the world doesn't light a fire. He's like a paint by number artist—or lover.

She didn't have any more time to ruminate over Nick's talent, or his apparent lack of passion to match it. The kitchen started to get slammed with an unusual number of big tables. She danced between stations intuiting what she could do or bring that would help keep the line out of the weeds and at the same time stay the hell out of their way. It was a ballet and one she loved.

Three hundred and some-odd dinners later, the crew was giving each other high-fives as they began to break down the line. This kind of night, with more than ten tables of ten or twelve customers, was a nightmare scenario. Only half of those big-tops had made reservations. Coupled with five new specials to run, it could have been a disaster. So, everyone was rightly proud that they had come through the night without a meltdown.

"The Chef's specials sold great tonight, Mae," Tank commented. " I appreciate that they weren't all sauté. That could have gotten ugly."

"Hmmmph."

"You know what I mean. Those specials were brilliantly designed…easy to put together on the fly and spread out among us."

"Yes, Tank. Chef Nick is a certified genius. I think we've proved that here tonight. Certainly his track record here in the Elysium kitchen has been brilliant."

"What'd he do to you? He seems a good enough guy."

"It's what he failed to do, Tank. Did you notice him leave at eight tonight?"

"I wasn't really noticing shit at eight o'clock tonight except all them tickets."

"I just thought it was kind of inconsiderate. I mean he's only been here a couple days. You'd think that he'd want to see how we operate."

"Mae, this is a temporary gig for the guy. He's here to fill a gap. I don't think it's fair to expect him to treat this job as anything more than what it is."

"No, we wouldn't want him to make more of this than it is." This was said with more sarcastic venom than Mae had intended.

"Is it just his work attitude that's got your panties in a bunch or did he say something to piss you off?" Tank was very protective of Mae. Although he and the others never let on just how much affection and admiration they had for their 'little boss' Mae knew that any one of her guys in the Elysium kitchen would lay flat any man who did her wrong. Tank looked at her sharply and scowled.

"No, my dear, dear giant. Nothing of the sort. You just know how I feel about this place and it's harder than I thought adjusting to someone in Kurt's place. I'll get over it." With that she pretended to get very busy in her quasi office.

In truth, Mae was shuffling papers around mindlessly. She had seen so many faces of Nicholas Seville in three days that she was having trouble reconciling them all to the same person.

There was, of course, the first Nick. The Nick of the pool. The lusty, talented, sensual and quite beautiful playmate. Then there was the creative Nick who had all the right instincts when it came to food. The Nick who could conduct himself without the crippling ego she hated so much in other chefs. But last, and sadly, she had seen the passionless Nick. A Nick who could walk away from a full-on dinner service under his command without so much as a look over his shoulder. Mae thought it was very much like a general leaving the battlefield at its peak. Granted, he was a temporary general, but she felt very strongly that he should have taken his role more seriously.

One by one the staff had cleaned their stations, availed themselves of a shift drink compliments of the management and exited into the heavy night. Those who were attached would likely go home to the partners who put up with their odd hours. Those who were not would head for one of the few places in Singapore that didn't shut down until the wee small hours.

Mae grabbed her list to do a quick inventory of the meat on hand to leave on Nick's desk. He would have to order early on Friday to get the weekend's stock by the afternoon. He would need to know what he
had
to know what he
needed
.

The walk-in for proteins was divided into the forward refrigerated part and the rear frozen section. Mae quickly assessed the inventory in the front part and went into the back section to do the same for the frozen items. She hated this task. It was beastly cold and the light in the freezer was not the best. As she closed the freezer door behind her she realized that the stool that was usually kept in the freezer wasn't there. Mae wasn't the only member of the staff too short to reach the topmost shelf comfortably. It was late and she was in a hurry so she decided to just use the bottom shelf as a step stool to reach the topmost stock.

She checked the floor first, then the next two shelves and then hoisted herself onto the lowest shelf to peer into the half-darkness and count the whole ducks and the chickens. As she reached to shimmy along toward the back, her hand caught the drip pan that was always present under the aging condenser that labored to keep the tropical humidity from invading the cooler.

In a flash, the pan gave into her grip and tumbled along with Mae to the floor of the freezer. The ice water hit her chest just as her head made contact with the shelving on the opposite wall. She was out cold when the last of the cooks locked the outer door to the walk-in and turned the kitchen service lights out before he himself left for the night.

***

It could have been an hour or two or minutes. Mae awoke with a throbbing head, confused and freezing cold. It took her a few moments to gather her thoughts enough to sort out what had happened to her. The top half of her body was soaking wet. The drip tray was upside down beside her.

She struggled into a sitting position and gasped at how cold she was.
Got. To. Get. Out
. Her mind was having a great deal of difficulty communicating with her body.
Stand. Up
. She made it to her knees after and paused on all fours to gather strength to stand. Her hands did not want to grasp the cold steel of the shelving and slipped once, then twice when she attempted to rise. On the third try she pulled herself to her feet. In slow motion, she took the three small steps to the freezer door.

She pushed on the round release to open the freezer door but she was so weak it didn't budge. Again and again she tried and failed to dislodge the latch that would get her into the refrigerator section. Finally she summoned all of her strength and used her full body weight to slam into the release with her hip. It should have hurt, but she was too cold to feel it. The door gave way and she was out in the fridge.

She went straight for the outer door latch and pushed at the latch release there. It didn't move a millimeter. She tried her hip again and still nothing gave. She called out to anyone to get her out of there, but no one came. She pushed and rammed and even kicked at the stubborn latch to no avail.
Goddammit, let me out! Open the goddamn door!

She pounded on the door for what seemed like forever. Her hands were brilliant red and alternated between numbness and pain. Finally, desperately she wrapped a kitchen towel around a lamb shank and began to pound on the door with the bone.

So cold. So fucking cold. Have to rest. Have to sit
. She slipped down against the cold steel of the door.
This is how I'm going to die? Where is everyone?
Tha-wump. She whacked at the door with the shank and began to imagine that her hand was actually a bloody stump.