"The oven's dead."
"Define dead."
"Not heating. Won't light. Completely, totally, absolutely dead." I stand, slide my hands on my apron. Outside, through the kitchen window, I can see the line already forming. Farmer Hank's truck is parked out front. A family with three kids. The couple who run the hardware store. At least twenty people, maybe more.
First official Farmer's Table night and the oven is toast.
Actually, the oven can't make toast. That's the problem.
"Can you fix it?" Maya asks.
"Not in fifteen minutes."
"So what do we do?"
I look at the prep station. Vegetables prepped and ready. Proteins marinated. Sauces cooling in containers. Everything planned around roasting, baking, finishing in high heat.
My brain does that thing it does under pressure. Rewires. Recalculates. Finds the path through the chaos.
"Stovetop only. We pivot everything to pans and the flat-top." I start pulling sheet pans down. "Tell everyone who ordered the roasted chicken we're doing pan-seared instead. Better crust anyway. The root vegetables get caramelized in cast iron. The bread?—"
"We can't serve bread?"
"We serve the bread cold with compound butter. Make it a feature.Artisan room-temperature serviceor some nonsense." I'm already moving, reorganizing the stations. "Get every pan we own heated. I need high heat on four burners minimum."
"On it." Maya turns, then stops. "Rogan?"
"Yeah?"
"Ivy's here. She brought the heirloom tomatoes you asked for."
Perfect. Terrible. Perfect.
"Send her back."
Ivy appears thirty seconds later carrying a wooden crate. She takes one look at my face and sets the crate down carefully.
"What happened?"
"Oven's dead. We're pivoting to stovetop only."
She doesn't panic. Doesn't even blink. Just nods once and starts rolling up her sleeves.
"What do you need?"
"Can you cook?"
"I can follow instructions."
"Good enough." I point to the vegetable station. "Carrots, parsnips, and turnips need to be caramelized in batches. Highheat, constant motion, don't let them burn. Think you can handle that?"
"Systems and repetition? That's my specialty."
I almost smile. Almost. "Maya, where are we on the temp staff?"
"Two high schoolers confirmed. They'll wash dishes and run food. I'm on drinks and front of house coordination."
"I'm expo and main cooking. Ivy's on vegetables. We can do this." I check the clock. Five fifty-one. "Doors open in nine minutes."
