The Chef and the Sous (Torack & Frogger)

[Torack]

His new restaurant was about to open. The one thing he needed for it however was staff, or more specifically, a sous chef. A good chef that he knew could cook and cook well; not just any "good sous chef" but an excellent one. His standards were notoriously high and the letters and emails he received from people to give him a chance at his restaurant was immense.

He'd already hired the staff required to run the restaurant weeks prior and now only one more remained. One of his colleagues, a professor at a local university, recommended a prior student of his that was currently working at a different place. The man had recommended great sous chefs before, and most of those that he did had gone on to become great chefs in their own right. Alas, the fact she was somewhere else did pose a problem. He could either let it go and find someone else -- someone not as good -- or steal her from her job.

The latter option, although crummy, wasn't so bad considering he'd be able to give this sous chef the experience her current employer couldn't. A chance to work with him, and what chef wouldn't jump at that chance?

Alexandre currently stood in front of his finished restaurant with his arms crossed in front of his chest, watching the workers inside setting up the tables for the evening service. The place was large and spacious with the tables arrayed in an intricate snowflake pattern. And the walls arrayed with several art pieces. His seventh restaurant. He gave it a final look before walking over to his car and driving off.

A few minutes later he got out of his car and walked into a different restaurant, one not as large but the food there, from what he knew of the chef that owned the place, was quite good. He took a seat at an empty table and ordered a fillet mignon when the waiter arrived. He wanted to know just how good the skills of this sous chef were and if he was just wasting his time in seeking her out or not. He hoped he wasn't considering the service of his establishment was in a few short hours.

 

[Frogger]

Orders are flying in, one after the other, the expectations high even though it’s barely past five. People are pushing to get inside, but it’s difficult to get in without a reservation. Friday nights are one of their busiest nights of the week. Did they expect a three-star restaurant to have open availability-? It doesn't exactly help that they're short-staffed tonight, either. Brandon couldn't make it in account of a fever.

Kneading the bridge of her nose, Annabelle -or Annie, as she's more affectionately known as by friends and family-let out a sigh while blinking at the ticket that just came in. It wasn’t until her glasses cast the world into clarity that she realized what the problem was. A laugh threatened to bubble up, but right now’s not the time. “Anthony!” she calls out. “Put down another serving of pasta, I’ve got another filet mignon. Alright, people! We’re hopping tonight, so I want to see some hustle!” Annie clapped her hands together, just to throw another steak down on the grill a heartbeat later.

Medium rare. It's difficult to get it just right. Take it off too early, the steak’s practically making noise. Take it off too soon… and not only is it well done, but it's almost a hockey puck on the plate. Luckily… she's a pro at medium rare, since that's the way she likes her steak.

“Is that pasta about ready?” Annie flipped the filet mignon over, pleased to find a beautiful sear scorched into the side. Adding just a dash of salt and pepper, oregano and basil, to give it that special flavor, Annie paused just long enough to look at the spices lined up next to her grill. “I’m thinking…” Normally they have to follow a given recipe, time and time again… but for some reason, she’s halfway tempted to… deviate.

Wait. It’s just one steak, right? It’s not like it’s gonna make a difference or anything… Annie bit her lip, the pink flesh darkening to a rosy red from the abuse she’s putting it through… as she sprinkled a hint of mint on the filet mignon. “Anthony! Oh, hey. Sweet. Perfect timing.” It was a thing of beauty by the time she had it thrown together, and with that… she cast it out of her mind, working on the shrimp scampi someone decided to order tonight.

 

[Torack]

During the wait he was texting the cooks in his own restaurant to prepare for the opening service while he was away. Some of them were getting a little nervous that he wasn't there to help them prepare for the night, but he told them he was away for important reasons and he'd be there soon. They asked for more detail and how long, but he gave them no more answers other than to make sure the restaurant was presentable for when he arrived.

It wasn't long after that the food arrived. The plating was spectacular, ordered, and very well made. Not exactly to his own personal standards when it came to plating meats, but whoever the chef was, they knew what they were doing. Of course, a fine looking plate didn't mean the food was good. Alexandre picked up a fork and knife and cut into the steak, making a small slice to see the rarity. An excellently made medium rare. Then, taking the slice of meat into his mouth with a fork he started chewing; the taste was perfect.

Leaving the rest of the meat he moved on to the pasta and found the same amount of care taken in making it; again it wasn't exactly how he would have preferred it, but there was an elegance to the spices used in flavouring the sauce. A different sort of blend that was curious but worked incredibly well.

Putting down the fork and the knife, he stood up and after picking up the plate walked through the dining hall and towards the back into the kitchen. "Who's responsible for this plate?" He called out, looking at the faces of the cooks. It was chaos in there, as any restaurant kitchen was bound to be, and the heat was just about unbearable. Smells of cooking food and spices slammed against his nose as he put the plate onto a counter.

 

[Frogger]

Deer in headlights, everyone froze, their eyes locked on the intruder who dared to cross the threshold. Annie stole a glance about, not entirely surprised to find blue, brown and green eyes alike exchanging furtive looks. A frown settling along her lips, Annie sighed and decided, against her better judgment, to step forward and speak on behalf of everyone there. “Excuse me, sir?” Blue eyes, not unlike precious pieces of sapphire, didn’t drop away out of fear, but instead remained on his.

“Follow me, please.” A gentle hand placed on his elbow, Annie led him back out into the hallway. “I hate to be rude, but we are very busy, and I’m afraid we don’t have a lot of time. I am not going to keep our hungry customers waiting.” Annie let go of him and stepped back, hands on her hips. “If you really must know, no one person is responsible for any one plate.” A glance was spared at the one he had brought with him, only for a sigh to leave her lips shortly after. “If you have a complaint, please report it to our manager. I believe you will be able to find him up front, greeting everyone.”

How embarrassing. Annie has no idea what to say, or what to think. “Anthony is responsible for any pasta a customer orders,” Annie chose to share, even though the information is irrelevant. “I am in charge of the meats. I so happen to have cooked that filet mignon.” A hand gestured to indicate his plate.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a chicken breast on the grill. I’d really hate to see it charred because of an unexpected interruption.” Annie resisted the impulse to brush her hands over her white chef’s jacket, instead pulling in a deep breath to calm her nerves. As handsome as this man is, there is no reason to walk into the kitchen and order to know who cooked his food. It’s just uncalled for. “Enjoy the rest of your evening,” Annie decided to turn away, about to head back inside with the blistering heat and the scent of spices.