Foolish Wisdom
2 Interview
LIZ LET ME BORROW her shower and I cleaned up while she sat next to me and talked. I toweled off while she showered and we dressed. Only after we were both fully clothed did we hug each other and then kiss. When I left, the words “I love you” were still ringing in my ears.
At home, I was hurrying around like crazy getting ready for Bill and Crystal. Everything else got blasted out of my mind. I filed my experience with Liz away to think about later. Alone. At night.
The Prices arrived promptly at one o’clock. Thankfully, my sister and her entourage had left to go help the other guys pick up their tuxes. I’m not sure what help they all needed, but I was thankful they were all gone. They were still making trips back and forth to West Lafayette as well. It was like a week-long holiday for them and even though they were out of school, most of the guys lived in a frat house at Purdue and preferred to drive than to rent a motel room for the whole week. Allen was headed into Chicago on Wednesday morning to pick up his parents, which meant that I’d be cooking something wonderful Wednesday night. I was promised that it would just be our two families and not the whole wedding party.
Bill and Crystal and I sat at the kitchen table after Mom had welcomed them and then made herself scarce.
“So, Brian, besides wanting to sleep with our daughter, why do you want to come to work in a restaurant in Kokomo?” Bill asked. What the fuck? I don’t have much experience, but I’ve never heard of a job interview that started out like that. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
“Mr. Price, I guess maybe this isn’t the right place for me after all. I thought this was about cooking. I like your daughter a lot, but you must know she’s a lesbian, don’t you?” His eyes popped open like I’d punched him in the stomach and Mrs. Price started laughing at him.
“I told you that was the wrong approach,” she said. “Brian, we’ve got a serious proposition and my husband’s attempt at putting you off-balance just backfired on him.”
“Why would you want me off-balance?”
“Believe it or not, that’s what the restaurant business is like. Sometimes it seems like customers intentionally try to make things hard on you. There’s no question that it is sometimes our fault. We do mess up orders. We do run out of the special. But some people will never be satisfied and only come to a restaurant to complain about it.”
“And as sharp as your response was,” Bill said, “it’s probably not the way we’d want you to respond to a customer. On the other hand, it showed that you could think rapidly and shift the focus. If you can do that without putting the customer on the defensive, it will work.”
“Let’s get back to the real first question, Brian,” Crystal said. “Why do you want to spend your summer working long hours in a hot kitchen for little pay in Kokomo?”
“Well, when you put it that way, sleeping with your daughter sounds like a pretty good motivator,” I laughed. “Really, though? I love to cook. I’ve always just assumed that my career path is going to be to work as a chemist, but ever since Hannah introduced me to my first cookbook by telling me that recipes were like chemistry experiments, I’ve been hooked. I know that being an intern isn’t the same as being a cook. I figure I’ll spend most of my time washing dishes or something. But I want to know if my love of cooking extends to the restaurant profession or if it is really just the way I’m going to relax when I’m feeding my family at night.”
The rest of the interview went fairly well. I guess I asked reasonably intelligent questions. They asked things about what I liked to cook and how I’d feel about making the same thing over and over. Then they laid out a six-week internship program that included work in every part of the restaurant, including the office. I never even thought about that aspect of the business. I was getting really excited. Then I turned to the last page of the week-by-week description. That blew me away. There was a signature I didn’t recognized and a seal. Just above it were the words “Approved for .5 high school credits as ‘Career Exploration Internship’ by Kokomo School Corporation, Dwight Patterson, Superintendent.”
“I get credit for this?” I asked. Of course, it was credit in Kokomo, but still…
“We are using you as our test case to prove the viability of a new school program. We made it a condition of our participation that we could choose an out-of-district student and that the school board would do its best to see that the credits transfer. There are twenty-two companies offering internships around Kokomo this summer so it wasn’t difficult to sell our conditions as a test. The school district set the hours required and the compensation,” Bill said. This was so cool!
“Well, that is almost everything,” Crystal added.
“Almost?” I asked. Yeah. I’m a great straight man.
“Give me a hand, Brian,” Bill said as he stood and headed for the door. At his car, he handed me two bags of groceries and grabbed a cooler. “I want to see how you cook.” We took everything to the kitchen and started unpacking the groceries. Crystal handed me a printed sheet that included a menu and several recipes.
“This is dinner for five. Unlike the restaurant, all five of us have ordered the same menu and the cook gets to eat with us. It will just be your mom and dad, Bill and me, and you—assuming you get everything prepared on schedule so you can eat with us. It’s three-thirty. Dinner is at six o’clock. You have an hour to study the menu, recipes, and ingredients and to decide how to approach it. We’ve given you an hour-and-a-half to actually prepare the food because in a restaurant, some items would be made up in advance. You’ll have to coordinate exactly how to schedule each item so that dinner is a continuous flow from beginning to end without interruption. There is appropriate wine here as well. You need to think about when to prepare and serve each item. During this first hour, you’re free to consult with us and get any explanations that you need. At four-thirty, you are on your own. Don’t make any assumptions. We want to sit down to our meal promptly at six o’clock.”
Holy crap! The printed menu and recipes were five typewritten pages. I set to work. Here I thought I’d whip up a quick Caprese and linguini. This was going to be work. I took advantage of having Bill and Crystal available to clarify what items were and how they’d go about preparing certain items. Then I started organizing everything I’d need, checking each recipe against the ingredients on the table and in the cooler. They even included a spice rack with the spices that were called for in the recipes.
“Crystal, there’s no bacon in the cooler.”
“Nicely done, Brian,” she answered. “You can’t cook a meal unless you know you have the ingredients.” She went to our refrigerator and pulled out a pound of bacon in a butcher wrap. It wasn’t the vacuum-sealed pack that you get at Kroger’s. “We had your mom pick this up yesterday. I’m just glad you didn’t decide to serve bacon for breakfast this morning!”
Bill, Crystal, and Mom left at four-thirty and wished me luck, indicating they’d be back in time for dinner.
I was on high alert through the rest of my prep, grabbing a few sheets of paper that I could plot out my timing for each item on. I had to bake a brownie cake for dessert. There were ingredients for a side salad, appetizers, garlic mashed potatoes, seared lamb chops with red wine and rosemary sauce, caramelized onions, and steamed broccoli. They’d done it again. I saw where the wine was to be served, but the menu also said coffee was to be served with the cake. I checked to make sure we had coffee. The way Betts and her crew went through coffee with the cinnamon rolls this morning, I wasn’t sure if there was any left. Our coffee canister was empty, but there was a bag of beans on the counter. Beans. I tossed them into the VitaMix and ground them to a respectable coarseness.
The cake was in the oven and I’d washed the salad makings when I realized that I needed to set the table as well. I didn’t have that on my schedule. I rushed through getting the potatoes peeled and on to boil then found Mom’s good linen. I looked at the table and realized there was another trap. There was no way I could sit at the table and serve this meal. I would get to eat, but not with the adults. I’d eat in the kitchen. I set the good china and silver on the table with water and wine glasses. I made sure there was a salad fork, a dessert fork, and a coffee spoon then added steak knives for the lamb. I put out bread plates and butter knives, too. Then realized there was no bread on the menu. Damn! This menu just called out for bread. I did the only thing I could. I called Elaine.
“Hello brother/boyfriend,” she said cheerily. “I’m not on your schedule until Friday.”
“I didn’t know I even had a schedule. I need urgent advice.” I must have sounded desperate because she focused immediately. I didn’t have time for bread to rise but Elaine directed me to my James Beard bread book anyway. The answer was perfect.
“Just remember, they have to go into the oven exactly forty minutes before you serve them, and don’t forget to lower the temperature after twenty minutes,” she admonished. I glanced at the clock. I had just time to get them in to serve with the salad. The cake came out of the oven and I raised the temperature to 450°. By the time the oven was hot enough, I had the batter ready and slid it in. There wasn’t anything else on my menu that needed to go in the oven, but I was nervously looking at the clock and my two kitchen timers. I think it was the first time in a year I’d looked at a kitchen timer and not gotten a hard-on. I was just too busy.
The front doorbell rang at the same time my kitchen timer did. I reduced the oven temp to 350° and ran to the door. My parents and the Prices were standing there like they’d just arrived for dinner at a nice restaurant. I smiled at them and invited them to the dining room. Mom actually gasped when she saw the table. I’d taken the first rose out of the flower bed and put it in a bud vase on the table. It all looked pretty elegant and I held Mom’s chair for her and then Crystal’s.
“Brian, there are only four places set. We did tell you there was enough food for five, didn’t we?” Crystal asked.
“Yes, Ma’am,” I said. “I will certainly eat my share, but not at the table with my guests. It will be easier for me to serve you if I’m not pushing my chair away from the table all the time. May I pour you each a glass of wine while you get settled? The appetizers will be out in just…” I glanced at my watch and saw that it was 5:55. “In five minutes.” I already had the wine bottles opened and soon had all of them poured. Then I raced to my room. The one thing I hadn’t thought about. I waded through all the crap my sister and her friends had spread around my room and grabbed a clean white shirt out of my closet. I couldn’t do anything about the fact I was wearing jeans, but at least I’d have a nice shirt on. In the kitchen, I grabbed the bacon-wrapped stuffed mushrooms out of the oven and hoped that opening the door wouldn’t screw up the last ten minutes of the popovers. I blotted them on paper towel and placed them on the appetizer plates. All I’d put on the table were big plates. I’d serve the first two courses on separate plates then collect the plates to replace them with dinner plates for the main course. I popped a mushroom in my mouth just before I took them out and immediately spit it out. Too damned hot! I picked up the tray, watched the second hand on the clock and at exactly six o’clock stepped into the dining room to serve the appetizers.
I figured I had ten minutes before I needed to serve the salad and this time I just nibbled at the mushroom. I’d have never thought of stuffing something that got cooked with cream cheese and scallions. So good! I continued to nibble while I tossed the salad with olive oil and herbs, then added just enough balsamic vinegar to make a light dressing. Once on the salad plates, I added a carefully placed ring of red onion, a shred of carrot, and two flowered radishes on each plate. My timer dinged again and I took the popovers out of the oven. Beautiful! I quickly collected the appetizer plates, simply moving Crystal’s to a spot above her fork since she still had a couple mushrooms on it. I returned a moment later with my tray of salads and served them, remembering the adage, ‘serve from the left, clear from the right.’ Then I returned with the basket of popovers and placed one on each bread plate.
“I don’t remember popovers being on this menu,” Bill said. He didn’t waste time breaking it open and buttering it, though.
“Specialty of the house, sir,” I said. “With our compliments.”
I retreated. According to the timing that Bill and Crystal gave me, I should have twenty to twenty-five minutes to get the main course ready. I got back to the kitchen and put the lamb chops in the frying pan. I used the electric skillet for eight lamb chops so I could have it preheated to exactly what I wanted. The lamb itself only cooked for about four minutes on a side and then went into my oven that was cooling from the popovers while I prepared the sauce. That left my stovetop clear for the onions that were caramelizing, the water coming to a boil under the steamer for broccoli, and my potatoes. As soon as the lamb was in the pan, I drained the potatoes and mashed them. I set them in the oven. They would hold for fifteen minutes.
I ran… walked briskly into the dining room and offered another glass of wine. I checked the plates and removed Dad’s bread plate and salad plate with the large plate under it and Crystal’s now-empty appetizer plate. Then I went back to the kitchen and started prepping the dinner plates. I wolfed down the remaining popover while I got everything ready. I removed everyone else’s salad and bread plates after checking to be sure Mom was finished with hers. Dad snatched the remains of her popover before I took the plate. Hmm. I wondered if I should adjust the portions slightly on the main course. Everyone would get two lamb chops, but perhaps I should increase the amount of potato and vegetable on Dad’s and Bill’s plates.
I tossed my lamb chops into the frying pan and then filled everyone’s dinner plate. I had to make two trips for this because I just wasn’t going to risk trying to carry four dinner plates to the table and didn’t have a tray large enough for them. I stood by, filled everyone’s wine glass from the second bottle, and waited to make sure everything was satisfactory. Then back to the kitchen.
I didn’t have to wait once my chops were done. I’d reserved a little of the sauce from the first eight chops. I started heating the chocolate sauce for the cake, got the ice cream from the freezer so it would soften enough to dip, and plugged the coffee pot in. I nearly collapsed at the table and shoveled the food into my mouth. It was good, but I hardly noticed. The cake was almost like a thick chocolate brownie. I covered it tightly and put it back in the oven to be warm when I put the sauce and ice cream on it. Since I already knew the sauce would be hot and runny, I’d chosen dessert bowls instead of plates. I kept hopping up to look into the dining room to see if they were finished. I was relieved to see that they weren’t hurrying. I drank a whole glass of water and took my time savoring the second lamb chop. I thought the broccoli was a little on the crisp side and wondered if I should have cooked it longer. The instructions didn’t say anything. The onions were incredible. Damn! I’d forgotten the rosemary sprig garnish for the lamb chops. Well, there was nothing I could do about it now.
I cleared the dinner dishes and served dessert and coffee.
“Okay, Brian, how did you manage the coffee?” Crystal laughed. “I was sure we’d have you on that one.”
“I used the Vita Mix to grind the beans. That was pretty sneaky.”
“Sometimes you just have to improvise,” Bill said. “You did a great job.”
“I forgot the garnish on the lamb.”
“You made up for it with the popovers. What inspired you to do that?”
“It just seemed like when I go to a restaurant there’s always bread with the salad. I didn’t have time to bake bread, so I called a friend and she pointed me to the popover recipe in Beard’s bread book.”
“Hannah?” Mom asked.
“No. Elaine.”
“Of course! Call another cook.”
“Well, you must be pretty experienced making these. Popovers are kind of tricky and these were very near perfect.”
“It was the first time I’d ever made them. I sort of figure cooking is like chemistry. If you follow the directions for the experiment exactly, you should get exactly the same results every time.”
“That’s a good place to start,” Bill said. “The next thing you’ll learn is when to depart from the recipe. You’ll taste something and think of some way to make it better. Then that will become your recipe.”
“You’ll also find out that some recipes are just written better than others,” Crystal added. “Following the recipe exactly might not yield the best or even expected results.”
“Did I pass?” I asked.
“With flying colors,” Bill laughed.
By the time I finished cleaning the kitchen, Betts and company had returned home and wanted to know what smelled so good and if there was any left. There was enough cake and ice cream for them, but everything else was gone. I was amazed. The menu and the food that Bill and Crystal brought was exactly the amount needed to feed the five of us. Of course, usually the diners don’t help clean up the mess but Mom and Dad pitched right in to help with washing dishes. Bill and Crystal left to head back to Kokomo and said they’d see me in two weeks.
I had a summer job.
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