13
With Miki back, Keiko was out. I don’t know what I was thinking when I imagined Keiko and Miki working alongside each other. Delusional.
And anyway, Miki oversaw all hiring for the front of the house. There was no way I’d give Keiko a staff job in the kitchen. Though if I was honest, a tiny part of me felt a little bad. Only because I think people should be given a second chance, and she was a good worker.
I arrived at the restaurant at 10:00 a.m. sharp and discovered my keys didn’t work. I jabbed the key into the lock repeatedly, trying to make it fit.
What the hell?
Suddenly the door opened, and Miki stood there. “I had the locks changed. Now only you and I have access.” She placed a new set of keys in my hand and snatched the old ones. “Also, we should think about installing an alarm system.”
“I’m not sure I can afford that right now.” I entered the restaurant, and Miki shut the door and locked it.
“I know, but I just want to put that out there. The dynamics have changed. Jiro’s not here, and we have a nutjob sniffing around.”
“You mean Keiko.”
“Was that her name?” Miki tilted her head. “Anyway, like I said, the dynamics of the business have changed. Duties will obviously change, but for now, we both do whatever it takes to save this place.”
“But what about?—”
“Jiro? Look, sweetie, I know deep down you still think there’s a good explanation for his disappearance, but until it presents itself, it’s best we move forward with the assumption that he ran off. The only people who really need access to this restaurant are standing here right now. Listen to me. I won’t steer you wrong.”
I chuckled. “What are you? My consigliere?”
“Giver of advice? Sure, that’s one way to put it.”
“More like an enforcer, the way you chased Keiko out of here the other day.” I placed my things down on the desk in the office. “What’s gotten into you, anyway?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” Miki asked innocently.
“You seem really gung ho today.”
She sat down on a chair and crossed her legs. “I did a lot of thinking last night. Even though Ono Omakase is your restaurant, I do have a financial and emotional connection. I have just as much interest in making it work as you do. I can’t go back to my accounting job, ugh.”
“You won’t. We’ll make it work. We did it once. We can do it again.” I sat behind my desk. “I have no choice. I’m drowning in debt.”
“And that’s exactly why you need to focus on an entirely different menu. Something that will wow the people right back through that front door.”
“I’ve started playing around with a new omakase menu.”
“Great. While you focus on that, I’ll handle all the other stuff.”
I spent the rest of the day in the kitchen, staring at empty plates, a blank notebook, and a pile of ingredients like they were the enemy. My head wasn’t in the right place, but maybe that was the point. Why pretend things were fine? If my world was on fire, then the menu should be, too—flames licking at everything I’d built, threatening to burn it to ash.
I picked up my knife set, turned the yanagiba in my hand, let the steel catch the light. Fire destroys, but knives cut back. That would be my answer.
The menu practically named itself: Knives & Flames.
Only boldness could fight boldness. The dishes would be aggressive, theatrical—fire in the cooking, fire in the presentation. Searing. Flambé. Smoke curling into the dining room. Plates that dared customers to look away.
Dragon’s Breath Sashimi came to me first.
Thin slices of fatty tuna fanned over a chilled black stone plate. Beside them, I placed a shiso leaf I’d dipped in high-proof sake and lit it. The flame leaped higher than I’d planned, kissing my wrist as the leaf hissed. “Shit!” I jerked back, sleeve smoking. My heart pounded, but I laughed. That’s what I wanted—danger you could taste.
Next, Inferno Miso Black Cod.
I pulled a fillet from its sweet miso bath, set it on the counter, and hit it with the blowtorch. One side caramelized beautifully; the other burned into bitter charcoal. I scraped off the damage, adjusted the flame, and tried again. This time the glaze bubbled and crackled, cedar smoke curling up from the serving plank until the air hung heavy with it.
