Sweet Tarte – Sweet Enough to Eat

Hearing Mr. Dudley referred to as ‘Dud’ would be funny if it didn’t feel so weird. I search for the right thing to answer that won’t make me look completely inexperienced while also not being a total lie. Then he continues without waiting for my response.

“Anyway, I’m sure it’s a bit bigger than you’re used to, but don’t let that intimidate you. Everything’s the same as it is in any other kitchen, and you’ll soon learn the ropes. I’m not going to lie to you, it’s stressful, but it’s the best feeling in the world to cook something that makes someone else’s year a little bit better.”

When he turns to me, I nod enthusiastically, feeling totally out of my depth. The way Mr. Dudley has built me up should be flattering, but the problem is I don’t know what I’m doing. I should be confident in a kitchen like this if I’m going to have this job, but all I can think about is that I can’t read a recipe and at some point someone’s going to expect me to.

“You look nervous.”

I nod. “Just a bit overwhelmed.”

“Victoria. Don’t let stories of kitchens scare you out of a job you’re capable of doing. Dud believes in you, and he has a nose for these things. In a moment, I’m going to ask you to cook for me, and then you’ll see that this is no different from any other kitchen.”

My heart sinks, and I search for the words, but they won’t come. How do I tell this man, who’s being so kind to me, that whatever he’s going to ask me to cook, he’s going to need to read out the instructions? I mean, when the place is busy tonight—and every other night—he can’t stand there telling me what to do. He’ll expect me to be able to follow written orders without mixing up table fifteen’s cod with table eighteen’s risotto.

“I’m sorry, I can’t—”

“You absolutely can.” He nods. “And you will. Dud told me you struggle to read. That’s fucking perfect as far as I’m concerned, if you’ll pardon my language. I hate the way chefs these days are trained to follow every little instruction to the letter. So boring. I need a chef with the skill to adapt and the flair to make something from nothing. So, let’s call what we’ve done so far the interview, and now I need an audition. For the next forty-five minutes, this is your kitchen. I’m going to leave and get on with some other work that needs doing before we open tonight. You’ve got staff if you need prep work doing, and a larder full of ingredients. Don’t think there’s too much pressure, I’m not expecting perfection. But make me something that shows what I know you can do, and the job’s yours.”

AN HOUR LATER, CORNELIUS is biting into his bottom lip, an empty plate in front of him as he sits back in his chair.

“Was it all right?” I ask, nervously. Right now, it’s not even about whether I’ve got the job. That was always a long shot. But I just want him not to dash my dreams of one day working in a place like this.

He shakes his head and disappointment floods through me.

“No, Victoria. It wasn’t all right. There was nothing all right about this.” He draws a deep breath and my lip quivers as I nod, trying to put on a brave face. Then he continues. “Honestly, I’ve never tasted anything quite like it. The way you’ve combined the flavors…the hint of blue cheese?”

“I knew that was a risk. I—”

“It was a risk that paid off. Honestly, this is the best thing I’ve tasted in a while. You have a very sophisticated palate for one so young, and an eye for ingredients. I want this to be our Valentine’s Day special, if you’re able to replicate it? Victoria, I don’t know if Dud told you, but we will need you to start tonight. Will that be a problem?”

I can’t quite believe what I’m hearing. Is he really offering me the job?

“The pay will be the same as I’d offer for any sous chef, and the same job conditions. You’ll sometimes need to come in on your days off if cover drops out at the last minute. I won’t lie to you, it’s not an easy job, but I’m hoping you’ll take it?”

My head is already nodding as I think about what I’m going to tell my mom. All our problems are solved. “Yes!” I feel the grin spreading over my face, tears starting to run down my cheeks. “Yes! Thank you.”

With everything that’s happened over the last few days, I was beginning to think things couldn’t get any worse. But now they’ve got a lot better.

I just hope sometime soon I’m going to stop thinking about Dimitri Dolce Cossack.