I tried not to roll my eyes. “Details, Blaze. I need weekend details.”
He shrugged and looked around. “We’re still standing. I think that’s a good thing?”
His dry sense of humor was growing on me, but I wanted more than that. “Did things go smoothly? Were there any big complaints? Or did y’all run things like usual? Did you run out of anything?”
“We did run out of the scallops on both nights. I think the way you’ve changed up the recipe has been a huge hit. We might need to figure that out.”
I was pleased to hear that. Extremely pleased, actually. “Coffee?” I held up the French press I’d brought from my house just for these Monday meetings.
He looked visibly relieved to see caffeine. “Yes, please.”
And I was happy to have a somewhat comfortable and normal conversation with him. After I’d poured us both a mug, I continued to interrogate him for the better part of the hour on everything that happened while I’d been at the wedding.
From what he said, everything seemed pretty normal. Which wasn’t necessarily a good thing for Bianca, but I was happy things didn’t totally implode while I was gone.
“Sales are still down,” he said at the end. “I know we’re way in the red.”
I nodded, having a hard time admitting the truth of our circumstances. “Ezra doesn’t want this restaurant to fail,” I promised. “That’s why he brought me in.”
“I realize that, I’m just… hesitant to believe that you can help.” When he realized what he said, he added a quick, but insincere, “No offense.”
“None taken.” Lie. “I get your point.” Truth. “But I have a game plan. Starting with updating this menu. It’s so outdated and run of the mill. I’m disappointed in my brother for letting it stay as long as it has.”
“Ashlynn and I came up with it,” he admitted.
“Oh.” I had the strongest urge to murmur no offense, but that wasn’t necessarily the truth. Instead, I looked him in the eye and said, “You’re a better chef than that menu. This whole kitchen is better than this.”
“Well, I, uh—”
“Did Ezra ever come in and help you out?”
The tips of his ears turned red. “Every once in a while.”
“Blaze, for real, if Ezra can cook it, it’s too easy.” At Blaze’s half smile, I added, “He thinks he’s an amazing chef, but we both know he’s barely competent. I get that we have to indulge him every once in a while, but my goal is to make the menu complex enough that he can’t come back here and mess things up.”
Blaze folded his arms over his chest and nodded. “Okay, I can get on board with that.”
“I have this vision…” I’d been working on it all weekend. Strangely enough, the night at Vann’s that I could barely remember sparked the concept.
“I want to simplify everything.”
His brows furrowed together. “I thought you said you wanted to make things more complex?”
I waved a hand in the air, swiping away the opposing ideas. “I want both to be honest. Complex in the way that we’re making the best food possible. But I want it to be clean, simple and stand out. Right now, Ezra has the menu swamped with fussy French dishes that most people can recognize. I want to go in the opposite direction and make the ingredients the superstars, not French tradition.”
“Okay, I think I’m tracking with you…”
“Our motto will be casual French. We’ll get rid of the beef Bourguignon and foie gras and coq au vin. I don’t want escargot anywhere near this place. And we’ll replace the heavy, typical, pedestrian dishes with savory crepes and perfectly seared hanger steak with a tarragon crème sauce, the best charcuterie in the city with wine pairings and scallop croquettes.” I thought about how our scallops were doing recently. “Or maybe we keep the scallops the way they are and do a white fish croquette. I don’t know, these are just some ideas I’ve been playing around with.”
“What about a cassoulet? We could use pork belly or duck confit or something trendy and interesting?”
“Yes! That! Simple flavor profiles cooked to perfection. I want this to be the most elegant and least intimidating meal Durham has ever seen. Does that make sense?”
He took a minute to think over my vision. I started to worry that it didn’t make sense, when he took a deep breath and nodded eagerly. “You’re making French food accessible to anyone. Giving it a casual atmosphere. Taking the stuffiness out of it.”
I could have sworn my grin reached both ears. “Exactly! I’m taking the stuffiness out of it. Out of Bianca.”
“I think it’s brilliant. And the perfect way to get the public interested in eating here again.” He snapped his fingers, a thought just occurring to him. “We could do half-price board and wine nights. Maybe only for happy hour or do it the whole night or whatever. People would come in by the droves for good charcuterie and cheap wine.”
