I pushed through the swinging door and was instantly greeted with an onslaught of noise and movement. Lids clanged, timers beeped, and shouts competed with the sizzle of hot pans. People rushed back and forth, carrying trays and other kitchen paraphernalia.
I found Sebastian in the middle of the mayhem. He was speaking with Margaux, his mentor, who’d agreed to help with service tonight. She greeted me, then excused herself to check on the appetizers when I joined them.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
Sebastian was dressed in chef whites with the sleeves rolled up. A faint sheen of sweat clung to his brow, and his posture wastaut, his muscles coiled tight like he hadn’t taken a full breath all evening.
“Fine.Comme une merde,” he said, contradicting himself.
“I hear that’s how you know you’re on the right track.”
That earned me a quick smile, but it disappeared when his gaze snagged on the lasagna station. “Gus, that’s not ready yet! It needs thirty more seconds!”
The junior cook startled. He couldn’t have been over the age of twenty. “Sorry, chef!” He flushed, his shoulders tense. He scrambled back from the counter like he’d been burned.
I winced. Besides Margaux and a handful of seasoned staff that Sebastian himself picked out, the rest of the team came courtesy of the venue. It wasn’t ideal, but no restaurant in the Laurents’ portfolio could afford to lose more than one or two capable hands on a Friday night. Hopefully, the veterans could pick up the slack left by the less experienced staff.
“How’s the front of the house?” Sebastian asked me.
“Good.” I gave him a quick rundown of the night so far. “We got this. Don’t worry.”
Words I needed to hear myself.
His shoulders relaxed a smidge. He gave a short nod, but he got distracted again by something going on at the dessert station.
I left so I didn’t distract him any further. I believed in his capabilities, though our plan to mix the frozen foods with fresh dishes was highly risky.
Sebastian had selected six frozen foods recipes for tonight’s twelve-course tasting menu. That was the easy part. All he had to do was heat them up and make sure they were served at the exact right time and temperature for maximum enjoyment.
It was the other six courses that required the most care. It wasn’t about making them taste good—that was a given. It was about striking the right balance. The dishes had to impress theguests, but they couldn’t tastesogood that they overshadowed the frozen food debuts. We were confident in our new product line, but we weren’t delusional. There was no world in which a frozen item would beat a fresh gourmet course. The trick was closing the taste gapenoughto raise doubt as to which course fell into which camp without sacrificing obvious quality on either side.
I’d tasted the trial meal yesterday. I wasn’t a professional food critic, but I wouldn’t have been able to guess what was frozen and what wasn’t if I hadn’t known beforehand.
I rejoined the main party in the dining room. Ezra had already ushered everyone to their seats, and the first course came out soon after. They were mini quiches from the frozen foods line.
I watched the guests at my table like a hawk in between bites, trying to gauge their reaction.
“Delicious,” the food editor fromMode de Viesaid. The critic from theNew York Timesnodded, and most of the other guests murmured their agreement. Hollis Miller chewed silently, his expression unreadable.
My nerves were so shot that I barely tasted the food, but I gradually relaxed as the night went on. Overall, the reception to each course was positive. By the time we got to the sixth dish, I’d unclenched enough to appreciate the rich, hearty flavors of the night’s star entrée, a melt-in-your-mouth lasagna that came in both meat and vegetarian options. It was so good that even Hollis’s eyebrows rose in approval.
We were halfway through the night, and we were crushing it. We just might pull this off after all.
I finished my pasta in record time and excused myself for a midway check-in with Sebastian. He hadn’t left the kitchen at all since prep started, and he must be dying for an update.
“Well?” he asked when he saw me.
My face broke out into a huge smile. “Theylovethe food. Ithink they’re genuinely baffled as to which courses are reheated and which are freshly made. Your idea to make them guess was genius.”
Sebastian’s muscles loosened, and palpable relief crossed his face. “What can I say? Geniuses come up with genius ideas.”
“I’ll let you have it this time and this time only.”
He grinned. “We’ll see about that. I have a lot more genius ideas in the bank.”
I smiled back, happy to see his eyes regain some of their usual spark. We’d both needed this win, and victory was so close I could almost reach out and touch it. “We have six courses left, but unless something drastic happens, I really think we—”
A loud crash in the dining room interrupted me. It was followed by a scream and a swell of muffled commotion.
