She hangs up and, before I have a moment to think, there’s a knock onmydoor.
‘Heather?’
It’s Bill. I slideWine for Newbiesunder my duvet, straighten up my pyjamas and swing the door open.
‘Hi.’
‘Hiya. How’s the foot?’
‘Um, I think it’s a tiny bit better. Hard to tell, with these internal injuries.’
‘I brought you the wine list, so you can have a look through. Not the most riveting read, I know.’
‘I already have one, but thank you.’
‘It’s pretty extensive, isn’t it?’
‘There’s a lot to familiarize myself with,’ I say carefully.
‘A hundred and twenty-four different wines,’ he says, nodding.
‘All right, buddy. No need to rub it in,’ I say, rolling my eyes with a grin.
But then I pause for thought.A hundred and twenty-four. Sure, it’s a lot more than the old list, and feels daunting as hell. But a hundred and twenty-four isn’t that many, really. It’s considerably less than ten thousand. I wonder if Icanlearn the wine list and be done with it?Just learn the wine list. That’s what Tim said. Surely if I learn what the wine is supposed to taste like, and add a little of my own lingo to the equation, I can do a pretty good job with the rest?
‘See you for dinner service in a bit?’ I say brightly. ‘I might be a bit wobbly on the foot, of course.’
‘Great. They’re doing a new dish for tonight, a rip-off of the miso-salmon dish at The Pig & Whisky, which you’ll need to pair.’
‘What? I thought it was just the lamb and wild garlic?’ My heart starts up again.
‘Russell wants it included. Said the menu needed something with a bigger profit margin.’
‘Oh.’
‘Why don’t you get up, head to the kitchen and sit with James and Anis while they test it. You could do a couple of on-the-spot tastings.’
‘Wine-tastings?’ I say, feeling bile rising in my throat.
‘Yes, kill two birds,’ he says, nodding at the wine list, and then at the bottle of whisky next to me. ‘Hair of the dog?’
‘Christ, this place is fucking relentless,’ I say under my breath. ‘Give me fifteen, Bill. Can you drive us up?’
11.
With my headache thankfully subsiding, I quickly pull myself off my bed. I put some pressure on the ankle and it’s okay. I’m annoyed that I slept; annoyed that I missed a good three hours when I could have been working on the wine list. But perhaps there’s a shortcut for this bloody new salmon dish.
I pull out my phone and quickly google The Pig & Whisky, and when I’m directed to somewhere in America, I swear very loudly, then add ‘Scotland’ to the search. And there it is. The Pig & Whisky menu and, by some stroke of divine intervention, a wine recommendation underneath the salmon dish:
Complement this rich plate with the 2016 Gewürztraminer, the brighter but still gutsy Grüner Veltliner, or even the Lot 94 Pinot Noir – slightly chilled, of course!
‘Fucking Bingo!’ I shout, before throwing on my work clothes and half-fake limping my way to meet Bill by the golf cart.
I take a seat on a bar stool, groggy, mildly injured and smelling no doubt of whisky. But, despite everything, I’m fascinated by what’s going on in the kitchen.
James is standing there, sleeves rolled up, his apron covered in a mix of green, red and brown smears, and his hair pushed back in a headband like David Beckham circa 2003. I realize that whenever he’s around people he’s a little shy, but whenever he’s around food, that disappears entirely. He’s focused and passionate, and it’s sexy to watch.
He explains that he’s preparing two differently cooked versions of the salmon dish to decide between. As Bill said, it’s almost exactly the same as the dish on the Three Pigs website, and neither Anis nor Jamesis happy about it. I caught them complaining about it when I hobbled in earlier: ‘I mean of course we can do it. There’s a version in every restaurant on the west coast,’ James was saying.
