“Sure, let’s start.” Zoe smiled and took out the first sheet, which was the dinner menu, then searched for a pen in her handbag. “And I’m excited to hear your feedback,” she said. “I may create the menus but that doesn’t mean I don’t want your creative and culinary input. I’ll present the dishes to you today, and there are pictures included in your file, so you can see what they should look like and how I want them plated. Once we start practicing them over the coming weeks, I want you to feel free to suggest changes if you think we can improve or enhance any dish.”
“Sweet,” one of them said, browsing through the pictures. “Very nice. It’s different.”
“Thank you.” Relieved to hear enthusiastic comments flying through the kitchen, she dropped her shoulders and leaned back against the counter. She’d spent long nights preparing and perfecting the dishes in her mother’s kitchen and had photographed them in front of a white bedsheet. That was good enough for now; a professional photographer would be present at the pre-opening dinner to take pictures for the website.
Zoe’s style was unconventional; she never did anything the traditional way, but she’d stuck to Spanish ingredients and had steered away from anything too fiddly or complicated. It was all about letting the flavours speak for themselves, combined with spectacularly colourful and creative presentation.
“Now that’s a cracking paella,” her sous chef said with a chuckle. “How did you even come up with that idea? It’s hilarious.”
“Nothing wrong with putting a smile on our diners’ faces.” She was pleased with the black cuttlefish paella. Not only did it taste delicious, but the plate looked both striking and funny. The black rice cooked with a crispy bottom had been cut in a perfect circle and placed on a black plate. Seaweed and mussels were arranged over the top, along with slices of lemon that contrasted beautifully with the bright green of the seaweed. In the middle were three langoustines balanced upright against each other, their claws resting around each other’s necks. One of them was holding a Spanish flag in its claw so it looked like they were in the middle of a victory group hug.
The next dish, garlic gambas, had been fun to work on too. She’d arranged scallop shells in a circle and placed the gambas on top, lying on their backs like they were sunbathing. One of them appeared to be holding a paper umbrella in the colours of the Spanish flag and she’d turned the heads of two more so that they were facing each other like they were having a casual conversation. It had made her father laugh, so she assumed it would amuse the diners too. Especially over business dinners, when it was good to have something to break the ice and that would act as a light-hearted conversation starter.
“I seriously love this,” a young girl in her team said. “It’s elegant and proud yet it’s got humour to it.”
“Glad you like it.” Zoe watched them flick through the pages. It was good to let them take everything in visually before diving into the recipes. Marcy walked through the kitchen, but she pretended she didn’t see her. Avoiding each other was awkward and with Marcy’s team finishing off something in the dining area, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d have to look away today. From the corner of her eye, she saw her slow down and was pretty sure Marcy looked straight into the kitchen and right at her before she disappeared around the corner. Zoe’s heart was racing, and she was frustrated for letting herself be affected by her presence. Because even though she was angry with her and couldn’t stand to be in her company, the physical effect Marcy still had on her was no different to what it had been fourteen years ago.
“Chef?”
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Zoe swallowed hard and turned to her sous chef, cursing herself for losing her concentration.
“I was wondering if you’ve thought of any gluten-free alternatives yet.”
Zoe shook her head. “No. I mean yes, I’ve looked into it, but I haven’t finalised the alternative dishes yet.”
“Maybe I can help you with that,” the young girl said. “I’m allergic to gluten so I’ve spent my life searching for good alternatives to pretty much anything.”
“Excellent.” Zoe turned to her and managed a smile. “If you come and speak to me after the meeting, we can come up with some ideas together.”
11
“Here’s the first pizza. My special tomato sauce, mozzarella, capers and rocket.” Stella, Lisa’s girlfriend, put it down, sliced it and placed a pile of napkins next to it on the table.
“Wow, you didn’t lie about her talent at making pizzas; this looks so good,” Marcy said to Lisa, who immediately attacked the crispy oven thin crust. She was enjoying a quiet night with her new friends on their roof terrace. Stella was a local and although they’d met a couple of times through mutual friends, it wasn’t until Lisa had formerly introduced them over drinks that they’d really got to know each other.
“Told you so. Stella makes the best pizzas,” Lisa mumbled through a hot cheesy mouthful. “It does help that she has this amazing pizza oven out here but still, I can’t get them nearly as perfect as she does.”
“Thanks, guys. I believe we have some more takers here.” Stella laughed as she glanced down at their adorable puppies, Meatball and Butters, who were begging by her feet. “How did they become so greedy?”
“Because everyone at the site feeds them,” Marcy said with a chuckle.
“Oh, do they now?”
Lisa batted her lashes innocently and shrugged. “Hey, it’s not my fault if someone drops a piece of their sandwich on the ground, and besides, the food distracts them from causing trouble, so I tend to turn a blind eye.”
“Of course you do, babe. You’re such a softie when it comes to the dogs.” Stella looked at her adoringly and blew her a kiss. “So, I heard the building work is making good progress?” She opened three cold beers and handed them out.
“Yeah. Not long until the pre-opening dinner for the Calvo Group.” Marcy smiled. “The pressure is on, but I’m confident we’ll make the deadline. Right, Lisa?”
“God, I hope so. I don’t know where the time has gone. It’s already the beginning of September and there’s still so much to do. It’s just silly little things. We’re short of bedlinen for example, as the factory went bust before we could place our big order, so my interior designer is currently sourcing sheets. We’ve also had a problem with the irrigation system for the garden, so I’ve personally been watering the plants every night as the gardener signs off at three pm. Ten days isn’t long and I’m praying everything will be fixed before the big night.”
“And then we have another two weeks to finalise any outstanding issues to get the hotel ready for bookings,” Marcy said. “And after that, we have another two weeks to spruce up the laundry room and the staff quarters.”
“It sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you, but I have no doubt it will all look perfect.” Stella held up her bottle in a toast. “Did you hear Lisa has another job lined up with the Calvo Group?”
Marcy shook her head. “No, tell me more.”
“There’s an opportunity for me to work on a hotel in Sitges with them,” Lisa said with a beaming smile. “I’m super excited; it means I can stay in Spain, with Stella.”
