"So why?"
I think about Ivy's face when I asked about heirloom varieties at the market. The way she tested me with that seed packet. The way she's slowly, grudgingly started trusting that I mean what I say.
"Because if we compromise now, we compromise everything. The whole point of this place is that we don't take the easy way when it matters."
"The easy way would save us money and time."
"And cost us something harder to get back."
Maya studies me. Then nods slowly. "Okay. You're the chef."
"I'm the chef."
She goes back to her spreadsheet. Marks the frisée as confirmed and moves to the next line item.
The temps are staring.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing," Samantha says quickly. "Just... that was cool."
"It was expensive and impractical."
"Still cool."
I don't tell her that my palms are sweating. That I just made a decision that might tank our profits and complicate our prep timeline.
Instead I go back to teaching Derek how to brunoise. How to make every cut count.
By four o'clock we've run through the full menu twice. The temps are exhausted. Josh has blisters from the practice plating. Samantha keeps mixing up the garnish order.
"Again," I say.
"Chef, we've done this fourteen times."
"And you'll do it fifteen. Muscle memory doesn't come from getting it right once. It comes from repetition until your hands know what to do when your brain's overwhelmed."
They groan but they do it.
Maya's on her third coffee. She's been on the phone for the past hour confirming Friday's logistics. Load-in time, parking permits, equipment rental, backup supplies.
"We need to talk about the mushrooms," she says when she hangs up.
"What about them?"
"Our forager can't deliver the full quantity. He found a contaminated patch and had to scrap half his harvest."
Another hiccup. Another test.
"How short are we?"
"Two pounds."
"That's the entire mushroom course."
"Again, aware."
I lean against the counter. Try to think through alternatives while my brain's already fried from six hours of training.
