RESTAURANT AUTEUR

This is an introduction to the book’s title, the chapters, the foreword, and the first chapter about a true story where we all play a starring role.

RESTAURANT AUTEUR

EVERY COMMUNITY’S NIGHTLY THEATRICAL STAGE PERFORMANCE

Written by

William Simpson

Chapters

FOREWORD

PRE-SHIFT – ACTORS SETTING THE STAGE

FIRST SEATING – LET THE SHOW BEGIN

FRIENDS and ASSHOLES – SUPPORTING CAST

IN THE WEEDS – WHERE STARS SHINE

DAMAGE CONTROL – AS THE PLOT THICKENS

SLAMMED – IT’S A MAGIC SHOW

SECOND SEATING – A BLOCKBUSTER DRAMA

MANAGED CHAOS – RATED R FOR MATURE ONLY

IMPAIRED BEHAVIOR – WORTHY OF AN OSCAR

THE CALM – AS THE CURTAIN FALLS

AFTER DINNER DRINKS – AN ENCORE

Foreword

Dining out and international world societies are inseparable. It’s who we are; it’s what we do. Being excited to reserve a table at the newest restaurant’s grand opening, and frequenting local favorites is a must for foodies and those who crave entertainment. Having an appreciation for the culinary arts, it’s all about the food, the wine, and the enjoyment of an electrifying atmosphere. 

Restaurants are a community’s nightly theatrical stage performance where we all play a starring role in the latest blockbuster spectacle. A destination for the need to see and be seen. Here is where we go to escape reality for a few hours on a global world tour. Tasting wines and the skillfully crafted ethnic and cultural food themes instantly transport us to the culinary arts utopia of our dreams. Where actors we have never met before silently exceed our every expectation. Where no one else but those we are with exists. These pillars of socialization are where heirs to vast fortunes, the newly rich, white-collar, and the working class all meet. During this brief unrehearsed playwright, everybody is co-equal and treated like superstars. Some people want nothing more than to relax and unwind while enjoying the show. Others play a more sinister role.

None of the different social classes have perfected the entitlement mentality so prevalent today better than college-educated millennials. They are spoiled, arrogant, self-absorbed brats who lack manners, and have no regard for how their actions make other people feel. Fake people posing with fake smiles, demanding that others be subservient to their egotistic behavior. While at the same time expecting unrealistic and sometimes impossible accommodations to magically appear by smiling faces all too willing.

There’s always that one person who complains about everything. They’re never satisfied regardless of the efforts put forth by those smiling faces in an attempt to provide exemplary guest service. The plot of the evening’s drama is not complete until one’s persona fueled by alcohol consumption reveals their true character. Though seldom said to the faces of dining guests what they are thought of for fear of the consequences, alcohol consumption is the great revealer. Drunk words are a person’s most intimate thoughts and undeniable evidence of who that person is. But on rare occasions, a blind eye is turned when ugly people unexpectedly get cut from the show. The infamous customer service satisfaction motto, “The customer is always right,” does not apply when dealing with rude drunk people. Karma can be a real bitch sometimes!    

From corporate entities and partnerships to chef-owners and those who have no idea how to operate a successful restaurant, there exists the behemoth hospitality and leisure industry. Restaurants employ 16.5 million people in the United States and 250 million people globally. The diversity of restaurant owners and the people who work in this environment is as diverse as the people they entertain. Foodservice industry workers are an eclectic assortment of people coming from every background and lifestyle imaginable. These essential characters starring in every stage performance dedicated to wowing their theatrical peers are rarely recognized for the brilliant actors many of them are.   

Hostesses are usually young attractive female extras in their late teens to early twenties. Some choose to become servers once they’re old enough to serve alcohol. After graduating college, the majority of these young women move on to a different career choice. Astute in the knowledge of social media, gossip, and the hook-up culture, they tend to be selectively dumb in all other areas of life.

Waiters and bartenders are among the highest-paid employees in America. Often treated rudely, disrespected, and looked down upon by the people whose food and drink they are handling. ‘Hint,’ not a wise thing to do. Having to be gracious to rude people, they’ve mastered wearing a fake smile as a means to an end. Knowing that every shift or double worked, they will earn hundreds to thousands of dollars depending on the restaurant’s theme or bar where they are employed. Earning anywhere from $30,000.00 to $100,000.00 a year or more in tips, it’s damn near impossible to walk away, and the reason why so many people in the industry feel trapped. For the dining guests who think a bit too highly of themselves and sneer at high school dropouts who often earn considerably more money than they do, Forrest Gump said it best; “Stupid is as stupid does.” How ironic that waiters and bartenders are masterful directors of free psychological counseling to the countless debt-laden frustrated fools they nurse to drunkenness every evening.  

Not without vices of their own. The constant cash flow feeds bad lifestyle habits that are learned and encouraged in the restaurant culture. Illegal drugs of all sorts can be found on their person every shift they work. In kitchen coolers, the bar, server stations, backrooms, and dumpster areas, alcohol and drugs are unapologetically consumed. The restaurant environment is an all-night-long dramatical series that never ends. Every evening, many of these stage actors are as fucked up as the people they are serving, and the majority of dining guests never even realize it. After the shift is over, these professional addicts migrate to late-night bars and after-hours parties to continue the debauchery until early in the morning. Only to rise hungover from a dead sleep a couple of hours later, to begin the performance all over again.

Chefs have a passion for the creation and consumption of food and alcohol. Creating from scratch artful plates of food that make diners coo in delight is like a drug to their inflated god-complex egos. It takes talent and a passion for doing what they do consistently well under the pressures of high volume and fine dining demands. Having to execute a thousand different dishes flawlessly in a timely sequence amid chaos, usually with only a few kitchen staff, is nothing short of magical.

Chefs too are not without vice. They and their assistants do sometimes make mistakes. But far more often, it’s the dining guest who is intentionally difficult to please. Those who are critics and complainers and always find a reason to send food back to the kitchen have unknowingly ‘tasted’ karma. Every chef who has ever recooked a dish has cussed the person that sent it back when they know the food is cooked correctly. Some never will, but others have done gross things to the food. Consider it luck if all they do is spit in it. Much worse has happened, and then in malicious humor, watch as that difficult person enjoys eating the remade food.

What happens among these talented A-list actors during the nonstop pace of an evening’s dinner is intentionally overlooked. Cocaine is a significant contributor to the energy level of those who magically create the impossible. Many who have become and those aspiring to achieve the celebrated status of executive chef are drug addicts and heavy alcoholics. Away from the artistic and creative work they excel at, their personal lives are often a box-office bomb. How deeply the culinary world misses the genius of Anthony Bourdain.

There are exceptional restaurant managers who came up through the ranks, having worked in most if not all restaurant positions. Though many are addicted to drugs and are alcoholics, they’re the best at doing whatever it takes to pull off a successful dining experience for guests and for the profitability of the restaurant and staff. The working manager leads by example when on the floor or in the kitchen, helping where help is needed. Knowing who the high-maintenance guests are and making sure they know that all of the staff knows who they are. They have a keen eye for recognizing talent and giving deserving people a spotlight to shine. To earn the income they deserve, therefore creating a bond of loyalty that leads to employment longevity. Every restaurant needs managers like this, but it’s a rare combination. Too often, unqualified and incompetent managers with a bachelor’s in business or hospitality management are in charge of the chaos they’re incapable of managing. Many have walked out mad or crying, leaving the restaurant to the hands of fate. But old-school managers smile at the challenge, catch a buzz, roll up their sleeves, and play the part.   

This book tells a true story about real people we all know throughout the progression of the evening’s events at restaurants in every community where we live. Follow along listening to the diversity of conversations people of different economic classes have with each other. Watch how their interactions begin and evolve during the events of an evening’s dinner. Be amazed by the unbelievably audacious acts of bad behavior people shamelessly commit in public when emboldened by mood-altering drugs and alcohol. But most importantly, laugh at the unrehearsed theatrical performances flawlessly acted out by unwitting people just being who they are. 

If you’re a person who appreciates the hard work and showmanship restaurant employees do every evening to create for your enjoyment a memorable dining experience, thank you. Your gratitude is deeply felt in the never-often-enough complimentary comments and the unexpected gratuities that always impress. These acts of genuine kindness do far more good than is ever realized. It proves that there are still compassionate, caring people in the world today. And finally, it is my sincerest intent to write from personal experience a story that tells the truth about how ugly many people are, even naming the rich and famous. If this is you, smile, asshole, you’re on candid literature.

To all of my restaurant industry peers, this is our playwright. Enjoy a long-overdue moment of poetic justice.

Chapter One

PRE-SHIFT – ACTORS SETTING THE STAGE

At 4:03 PM, Glenn, the General Manager, drove onto the parking lot. Turning the vehicle’s engine off and getting out, he locked the door and walked towards the front entrance. Loosely hanging from his lips was the joint he had smoked between his house and the restaurant. He inhaled a long drag, and realizing it was now a roach, he touched the hot ash to his tongue and swallowed it. He entered the building’s lobby and walked through the dining room to the lounge area, where the evening service staff were seated. The moods of almost everyone present were pitifully somber. It was a correct assumption to think that hard drinking and illegal drug use had been the previous evening’s indulgence. Having no sympathy for their discomfort, he greeted them cheerfully.

“Good evening, everyone,” as he glanced around the room, “I’m glad to see all of you made it to work except for one person, it seems. Pre-shift is at 5:15. Rob will let you know your assigned sections. There are 256 reservations for dinner. We will not be accepting any walk-ins except for seating at the bar. There’s live music on the patio, and the restaurant will be very busy this evening. Everyone has got to be on top of their game! So do whatever you need to do to sober up, put a smile on your face, and let’s get this restaurant ready to open. Each of you will have a five-table section unless Mackenzie is a no-show, so making bank tonight shouldn’t be a problem. If you get weeded at any time, ask for help before it’s too late. Should you be double or triple-seated at any time, work the tables as if they’re one. It makes it much easier to handle. The service stations need to be set up and all of the tabletops polished. I want to see teamwork tonight! Everybody is responsible for every table and whatever need a guest might have. Back servers, I want to see full hands coming in and out of the kitchen all evening. No exceptions! Tables need to be turned quickly. I do not want food sitting in the window getting cold. Everybody runs food. No exceptions! Make sure you have everything needed for the tables. Water pitchers need to be kept full, and enough plates, butter knives, and butter ready for bread service. Tray stands and carts need to be in the correct locations. Communicate with your server to know what they need for each table and when they need it. Your job is critical, so please, communicate. Thank you, everyone, for the hard work you do. We will have a great evening as long as we prepare for success.”

Restaurant Auteur is a new dining experience that recently opened in a renovated brick warehouse building overlooking the river and downtown skyline. Eastside’s booming community was the ideal location to open a restaurant among the city’s burgeoning food scene. The owners, Joseph and Theresa, married right after college. His family is deeply rooted in thoroughbred horse racing in central Kentucky and are old money wealthy. Theresa’s father and mother owned a successful Italian restaurant catering to the community for 40 years in northern Virginia. They met in college and had since traveled the world. In their mid-30s, Theresa wanted to continue her family’s legacy with a restaurant of her own. To purchase and remodel an old brick warehouse and turn it into a hot spot this restaurant quickly became cost Joseph’s trust fund $2.2 million. No expense had been spared.

Beneath a large awning at the front of the restaurant, a valet greets guests to complimentary parking. Above the awning roof, a sign displayed RESTAURANT AUTEUR in neon electric blue lighting. The main entrance is two solid oak double doors on which hung matching medieval brass door handles. To the side of both doors hung antique brass lanterns enclosed with glass, where blue-white gas flames burned. Behind these doors laid an unpolished black marble slate floor set with black grout. The lobby area consisted of three walls in the shape of a U painted flat black, upon which nothing hung. The ceiling area above was flat black. Separating the lounge from the restaurant was a floor-to-ceiling stone wall. In the center of this wall stood a host stand and computer lit by soft white lighting. Behind the podium stood an illuminated bookcase filled with hundreds of books written by famous chefs and winemakers from all over the world. Above these on a mantel twenty feet long, made of beetle kill hardwood, sat magnum bottles of different vineyards of wine and five oil lamps burning. To the left of the lobby was a hallway painted flat black. Hanging on the walls were long thin mirrors with soft white lighting between each, leading to plush Ladies and Gentlemen restrooms of black leather, marble, stone, granite, and mirror. To the right, dining guests are escorted through a heavy crimson red velvet curtain into the restaurant’s main dining room. Upon entering, the first image is to the sound of a turquoise blue waterfall rushing from out of the dark ceiling to crash upon river rocks in the pool below. Around the pool’s stone ledge and throughout the dining room sat a beautiful array of hibiscus plants with flowers of radiant colors in full bloom.    

Above an expansive open room were twelve feet high hand-hewn exposed oak beams. The dining room floor was unstained beetle-kill hardwood. A bright royal blue metallic epoxy resin filled the grooves and burrows made by the beetles and deep-set in ultra-clear epoxy. Throughout the forty-foot ceiling painted flat black, hung white Christmas lights to appear as stars in the dark of night. Directional track lighting ran along the span of the beams directly above each table. One hundred years old brick walls in the original rough design were polished to reflect the different light hues. Floor to beam against the walls and throughout the dining room for support stood columns made of unfinished beetle kill hardwood. Draped from the windows were bunched crimson red velvet curtains that hung to the floor. Covering the top of all the windows was a silver-grey silk waterfall scarf valance trimmed with sapphire crystals set in a gold chain. Each window is illuminated to contrast with the darker sheen of the brick walls. In the center of the dining room was a massive floor-to-ceiling oval stone fireplace viewable from all sides. Deep navy blue linens covered twenty-five tabletops in the main dining room. Set with silver and gold framed dinnerware and ivory napkins bunched in faux pearls. Crystal goblets red wine and water glasses sat at each place setting. The chairs and high-back private booths were of cushy crimson red leather with hues of purple and blue. Hanging on the walls were illuminated rustic metal framed pictures of artful plates of food bursting with color. Bottles of wine and exotic liquors sat on ledges mounted upon each column. On both sides of the fireplace hung a long curved panel. On these were beautiful oil paintings of countryside and ocean-view wine vineyards. Throughout the dining room were earth-tone colors chosen to contrast with the backdrops of the walls and ceiling.

The bar was dark and inviting. It was positioned diagonally along the right and back walls, with the liquor room built-in behind the bar. Forty feet long with twenty black leather-backed bar stools. The liquor display, extending the length of the bar, was a wall of mirrored shelves illuminated with track lighting from the beams. One hundred and fifty bottles of liquor glowed from out of the dark. In the center of the mirrored wall sat a display lit up with electric blue lights encasing the coveted Louis XIII cognac. All along the length of the countertop in front of the liquor display sat hundreds of different glassware. To the left was the computer and cash drawer. Underneath sat a custom-made three-hundred-bottle red wine cooler set at 67 degrees. To the right was a polished copper encased five-handled draft beer tower, and underneath sat the twin white wine cooler set at 48 degrees.

The bar top was a magnificent accident. Its dimensions are forty feet long by two and a half feet wide by three inches thick. A slab of live edge black oak stained onyx black. Two matching eight-foot sections attached each end to the wall.  

Though no one was sure what had happened, Glenn assumed that the people hired to finish the bar top mixed the epoxy ingredients incorrectly. When applying the clear liquid, it began to set as they poured it. Unable to level and wipe the underneath smooth, leaving a wet puddle dripping appearance to the entire bar top and edges. Glenn, who was there when this happened, called Joseph and Theresa, who came immediately to the restaurant. Screaming obscenities as he walked in the front door, Joseph fired the contractor, threatening him with a lawsuit. Theresa loved it instantly! As first-time guests approached the bar, they would attempt to wipe away the water that appeared to be there but wasn’t. The many expressions of irritation and confusion instantly transforming into one of delight was a nightly occurrence. The bar had quickly become a favorite with the food service industry employees who came by the dozens every evening after leaving their jobs.

Underneath the bartop were mounted silver hooks for the ladies to hang their purses. The bar’s base was stone illuminated with black lighting, causing the crystals in the rock and the blue epoxy in the flooring to glow after sunset. Along the length of the bar was an unpolished brass foot rail mounted to the floor. The lounge area had five tall black tables with six black leather-backed chairs each. Hanging across the bar and two per table were frosted glass tubes that turned from a soft pearl white to electric blue by the turn of a nob from behind the bar.

A brushed metal four-pane tinted glass garage door opened to the patio revealing a stunning 3D epoxy floor painting. A hand in the image of all things created poured the many colors of wine from one bottle into glasses held by the hands of all the different races of people. Each glass reflected images of smiles upon the faces of humanity as they joyfully shared the edible wonders of their cultures. From deep within this utopic mirage were people dancing to flute music played by Apollo arising larger than life upon the wall as he gazed upon those he entertained. Separating the wood and concrete floors was a white marble slab engraved with the words, ‘Good food paired with fine wine shared amidst music and dance, binds together the hearts and minds of lifelong family and friends.’ Theresa wrote this, inspiring her to visualize what eventually became the floor painting, which was the most expensive project of all the restaurant’s projects.   

Mounted to the garage door frame was a blower to keep out insects. Five four-top tables set up like those in the dining room sat along the outside railing overlooking the river. In front of Apollo’s upper torso was a stage measuring fifteen feet long by ten feet deep. Along the remaining open wall space was mounted a twelve-inch varnished oak railing for people to set drinks on. The patio is where Theresa wanted people to entertain others through music and dance. The kitchen closed at ten, and the bar remained open until 2:00 AM. This is when the after-hours show begins for those fortunate enough to be invited.                                 

Glenn is 47 years old, married, and they have one young child. He has worked in restaurants since the age of 19 and is a functioning alcoholic and a pothead. His first job was as a waiter while in college. Over the years, he had bounced back and forth between waiting tables and bartending. As is the sad story of many people like him, he continued to work as a bartender or fine dining waiter after graduation. The cash he made every night was too good to walk away from. In his late 30s, he moved up into management, where he’s been ever since. Being the general manager of this new fine-dining hot spot, Glenn had the opportunity to meet sexually available intoxicated women. As cool as Glenn is, he is not faithful to his wife.

Rob, the service manager, entered the room as Glenn finished with what he had to say. He was the younger brother of Joseph, wore thick-rimmed glasses, and had a buzz haircut. Earning an MBA in college, he had worked for his father at the horse farm, as did all of the family’s children. When the restaurant opened, he was promised a management position by Joseph. Being a trust fund baby like his older brother, he had never worked a real job a day in his life. He had no idea how to wait tables or bartend. None of the service staff liked him. His demeanor was as irritating as it was annoying. Doug had nicknamed him weasel, and this is how all the staff referred to him.

Glenn was not fond of this management choice, and every night, he had Rob work the host stand to keep him out of the way. Asking him to manage the seating of guests made Rob feel important. Glenn regularly looked at the reservations from his phone to make sure Rob didn’t make any mistakes. He walked through the restaurant constantly to know precisely where they were at with seating and the rotation of tables. Glenn was old school and wise in restaurant savvy.

Rob walked up beside Glen and said, “I’ve assigned tables to be joined together for the first seating. Back waiters set the party tables first.” Glen interjected, “Remember, pre-shift is at 5:15, not 5:20. Please everyone be on time. Chef Vitor will tell us about the special and tonight’s menu.” Glen turned to walk away and glanced once more around the room. He asked, “Has anyone heard from Mackenzie?” Pam replied, “She’s always late! Mackenzie is always the last person here and the first one asking to leave. Her side work is never done right, and we have to finish what she doesn’t.” “Hahaha,” laughed Brandon, the lead bartender. He then said, “Tell us how you really feel, Pam,” as several others mumbled in agreement with her observations.

Brandon is a damn good bartender, but he’s an arrogant prick. At the age of 31, he’s highly versatile in the knowledge of liquors, mixology, wine, and craft beers. He wrote the recipes for all of the mixers used to make the specialty cocktails on the menu. Most of the wines offered were of his choosing. It is his goal for their wine selection to be awarded by the Wine Spectator Magazine. With the owner’s deep pockets, he had amassed a collection of 130 different wines for guests to enjoy. The waiters and bartenders are required to taste all of the wines offered on the menu at the weekly tastings he scheduled with the wine reps. He had recently gotten a DUI and lost his driving privileges for one year. He lived about three blocks from the restaurant and walked to work every afternoon.

Brandon said to Glen, “You need to say something to her before one of us does.” “I will,” Glenn replied as he walked away to put the floor plan on the host stand.  

Walking to the stand to see his section, John exclaimed, “Yes, I’m in the 40s. I’ll make bank tonight!” Pam commented, “Glenn always gives you that section. It shouldn’t be a surprise to you.” Smiling, he responded, “No, it’s not. I just like this section. Four tops that can become party tables and seated two times; I’ll make $800.00 to $1000.00 tonight. Pam commented, “Since we opened, I haven’t made $200 in a shift. I always get stuck with the assholes who don’t tip worth shit.” Upon seeing that she was assigned to the lounge area, Amy walked away irritated without saying a word.

Brandon then said to Pam, “If you paid more attention to your guest’s needs than you did flirting with the men at the bar, you would make more in tips. Plain and simple!” Pam replied, “Maybe so, but some of those guys are hot, and they’ve got money. I don’t want to be a server all of my life!” Not one to say a lot, Doug replied to her statement, “Because of who those men are and where they met you, the only thing you’ll ever be to them is a good time.” He then stated, “When your guests feel neglected, it shows in the tips they leave you.” Irritated that she was now the focus of criticism, Pam retorted, “I don’t care what either of you thinks,” in a tone that suggested that she did not want to hear their opinions. Doug fired back, “That attitude is the reason why your guests tip like shit!” “You’re an asshole,” Pam exclaimed, gesturing with a middle finger as she began to walk away. Doug then said, ”It’s no wonder that you’re single and always mad. With an attitude like yours, I don’t know a man who would tolerate your bitchy ass.” To this rebuttal, Pam had no response.

With that conversation ended Doug approached the section he was assigned to and began to polish wine glasses. He is 45 and has worked in country clubs and fine-dining restaurants since the age of eighteen. No one in his family had ever gone to college. Over the years, he had listened to countless conversations between wealthy dining guests and read quite a few books. His investment portfolio is impressive, and he owned three houses, which were all Airbnb rentals. He owned sixty acres of unrestricted land and lived off-grid full-time in an RV. Doug is the millionaire next door; no one would ever think he was. Glenn valued the experience and professionalism that Doug brought to the restaurant and assigned the large party tables and VIP guests to his section. Many of the guests Doug already knew and had served numerous times before. They had worked together for ten years at another fine-dining restaurant. Glen had asked Doug to help him open Restaurant Auteur during the initial construction phase with a guaranteed $30,000.00 salary and the leadership title of dining room captain.  

Outside, Mackenzie had just parked her car. “Shit, shit, shit, I am so fucking late! “I’m in so much trouble!” she whispered. Taking a doobie out of a cigarette pack, she lit it. Three deep drags to catch a buzz, needing to calm her anxiety. “Fuck it! If I’m fired, I’ll get another job.” Looking in the mirror to check her makeup, saying, “Pull your shit together, girl. It’s only waiting tables. You’ve got this.” Locking up the car, she walked towards the restaurant.

Apart from the occasional small talk, everyone was focused on getting their tables ready for the night’s first seating. It was 4:50 when Mackenzie came through the front door. “It’s about damn time,” mumbled Pam as she watched Mackenzie glance at the floor plan before walking across the dining room. “Bitch,” Pam mumbled again.

Pam is a miserable thirty-year-old woman who has worked as a server since her freshman year in college. Having earned a Liberal Arts degree, she hadn’t found a job in the nine years since graduation that paid as much as waiting tables. She hated her job, drank too much gin, and ate opioid and anti-depressant pills daily. 

The look on Mackenzie’s face told a story of what she did last night. “Sorry I’m late everybody, I just got up off of the couch. I don’t even know how I got home last night,” she exclaimed while tossing her purse onto a chair. “I drank way too much fucking alcohol. I feel like shit!” Doug said, “You’ve got a lot of polishing to do, so get your hungover ass in gear and get it done. You have a six top at 5:30.  Will you be ready?’ “Yes,” Mackenzie excitedly exclaimed, “That’s a good start to the evening. I need to make at least $400 tonight. I spent all the money I made last night at Gilligan’s. I can’t believe I spent over $200 buying shots for people I didn’t know. At least, I think that’s what happened. “Stupid is as stupid does,” Milton said with a smile. “Shut up, Milton,” Mackenzie replied as the room lit up with laughter. “You guys are so not nice,” she exclaimed, with a smirk on her face while polishing a fork.

Mackenzie is a lost adult child. Goth in her appearance and heavily tattooed. She catches a buzz right out of bed and gets drunk every night. She’s bisexual and hooks up with whoever pays attention to her. At 23, she’s cluelessly honest when asked where she sees herself going in life.  

Hearing the laughter, Glenn made his way towards the main dining room, followed by Rob. Seeing Mackenzie, he exclaimed, “Well, hello party girl! I guess you enjoyed yourself a little bit too much last night.” Mackenzie replied, “No, actually, I didn’t. I don’t remember much about last night.” “What do you remember about last night?” Glenn asked. She answered, “I was at Gilligan’s doing shots, and that’s about all I remember.” He then asked, “Do you want to know what you did last night?” Everyone had been busy setting up their sections until now, but at the mention of her naughty behavior being revealed, everyone stopped to listen. 

Mackenzie blushed and said, “You’re scaring me, Glenn.” Ernie, one of the bartenders, yelled, “I want to know,” as the room lit up again with laughter. Glenn waved his hand to silence the laughing. As the room got quiet, he asked again, “Are you sure you want to know?” Everyone could have heard a pin drop waiting for Mackenzie’s answer. About ten seconds had passed when she said, “If it’s that bad, then I guess everyone deserves a laugh at my stupidity.” “Haha,” Glenn chuckled, then said, “It was quite the show!” “Oh my god, what did I do?” she asked. Ernie yelled, “Please describe in detail!”

Hearing the commotion, all of the kitchen staff came into the dining room. Seeing Chef Vitor, Glenn said, “After pre-shift, I’ll finish the story.” Vitor affirmed, “Preshift can wait; this I’ve got to hear.” Glen began, “Mackenzie, your performance was stellar. It is, without a doubt, the hottest striptease ever videotaped at Gilligan’s.” The laughter was deafening as Mackenzie buried her face in both hands and started to cry. About thirty seconds had passed when Ernie yelled, “Damn it, I can’t believe I missed seeing this!” David asked, “Did she take it all off, Glen?” Looking up with tears in her eyes, Mackenzie sighed in relief when Glen answered, “No, but she might as well have. She danced almost directly over my head and didn’t leave much to anyone’s imagination. But I have to admit; it was the pussy ring and that punisher butt plug that kind of surprised me.” “Hahaha,” again, the laughter was deafening. A minute passed when Dee walked over to hug Mackenzie, then said, “It’s okay, girl, we’ve all been there, we’ve all done stupid shit. God knows I have.”

Looking at Dee with mascara running down both cheeks, Mackenzie said, “I know, but I’m really dumb sometimes!” At that comment, Dee hugged her hard, saying, “Pull yourself together, stripper girl, we’ve got a restaurant to get ready to open.”

Vitor asked Glen, “Did you see the whole thing?” “Yes,” he answered, “I went to Gilligan’s after leaving here to drink a beer and listen to the live band. By the time I got there, she was already drunk.” Mackenzie asked Glenn, “Did I recognize you?” Chuckling, he answered, “Yes, you bought me a shot of bourbon.” She then asked, “What was I drinking?” Glen answered, “Patron chilled with salt and lime.” From across the room, Ernie sang, “Tequila makes her clothes fall off.” The room erupted again with laughter.

When the laughter subsided, Mackenzie asked, “When did I start dancing?” Glen answered, “Just as we threw back the shots, the band started playing, ‘Shake it for me, girl.’ You climbed up onto the bar top and yelled ‘Hell yeah,’ and shake it, you did! The first item of clothing you removed was the wife-beater you were wearing, leaving you topless. You must have been cold or horny because your nipples were huge. “Hahaha,” everyone laughed again. He continued, “You then pushed the miniskirt down to your ankles and kicked it off, flying through the air. Leaving you wearing nothing else but combat boots and that micro see-through slingshot of a thong you had on. Everybody in the bar cheered. The bartenders whistled and let you dance the entire song. There must be hundreds of videos of you dancing. Damn near everybody there was recording it on their phones. It was quite a provocative show.” Doug then commented, “The highlight of your performance is when you did a slow grind on that long thick Budweiser tap handle.” “Hahaha,” the laughter erupted once again. Brandon and Ernie were both crying, and even Chelsey smiled, hearing this. About a minute had passed before anyone could listen to Mackenzie say, “ I am so dead if my mom and dad ever find out about this.” Dee shook her head and said, “This is what drunk bitches do, just having fun.” Jose asked Doug, “You were there?” Smiling, he nodded in agreement. 

Mackenzie asked, “How did I get home?” Glenn answered, “Doug and I took you home. He had to find your clothes and help you get dressed. There’s no way we were leaving you to fend for yourself. You were fucked up! Several guys I didn’t know said they would take you home, and we were not about to let that happen. I drove your car, and Doug followed us. After laying you on the couch, I locked the door, and we left. Doug then drove me back to Gilligans to get my car.” Mackenzie looked at Doug only to see the faintest hint of a smirk. “Thank you, both of you,” she whispered. 

Glenn said, “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, the fun is over. We have ten minutes until pre-shift. Let’s finish getting everything ready to open.” He then asked Vitor, “Will there be a special this evening?” “Yes,” he answered, “You’re going to love it,” as he turned to walk into the kitchen.

While setting up a party table, Jose said to Marcus, “I can’t wait to turn twenty-one.” Marcus replied, “Me too. Hearing the stories about all of the fun stuff people do at bars makes me wish that I was old enough to get in and drink.” Jose and Marcus are both eighteen years old and have just graduated high school. Like most boys that age, they thought of nothing but girls and the party they would go to after work.

Overhearing their conversation, Doug said somewhat sarcastically, “Marcus, I seriously doubt the day you turn twenty-one will be the first time you get drunk.” To this comment, there were several chuckles from other people. “Hahaha,” Marcus laughed, then said, “No, it won’t be, but it will be cool to do it legally.” Doug answered, “It’s not what you think it is. Every time alcohol and fools get together, stupid things happen.” “Or hot and sexy things like Mackenzie stripping,” Brandon interjected from behind the bar. Laughter again filled the dining room. Sticking her tongue out, Mackenzie exclaimed, “Well, I’m glad you missed the show.” Smiling, Brandon replied, “I’ll have my chance; I’m sure it will happen again.” To this comment, Mackenzie did not respond.

Doug said, “What’s thought to be fun to the young and dumb is no longer amusing to those of us who are now older and somewhat wiser.” “Somewhat true,” Dee replied, “But not all older people are any wiser for their life’s experiences.” To this, Doug chuckled, saying, “Touche.” Marcus then stated, “It’s fun to drink and act stupid.” Doug replied, “Then have fun while you’re young and dumb and have no real responsibilities. As you get older, you’ll realize that your inebriated actions can have far-reaching consequences.” 

While marrying liquor bottles together to make space for backups, Brandon asked Doug, “Do you ever get fucked up? I’ve seen you at different bars but have never seen you have more than a couple of glasses of wine. How do you do that?” He answered, “When younger, I was stupid, but now that I’m older, I see things differently. I have to be in control of myself, and this is impossible when intoxicated. I’ve seen way too many people get their asses kicked or be locked up in jail for being stupid when drunk, and a few of them are now dead.” “Have you ever been in jail, Doug?” Dee asked. He answered, “That is none of your business.” “Oh, come on, tell us,” she pleaded. He asked, “Why the interest in me all of a sudden? Mackenzie stripping is much more interesting.” Dee answered, “Because you never talk about yourself. You’re mysterious.” At this comment, Doug walked away without saying another word. Looking at Brandon, she said in a whisper, “He is so fucking hot!”

Dee’s sexual appeal is intoxicating. The just barely modest long-sleeved black mini dress she was wearing would make women jealous as the men they were with lustfully stared. At thirty-five, she rocked an athletic physique. She, too, went to college earning a useless degree. Tending bars in LA, Miami, and Nashville, she was used to making a six-figure income. Restaurant Auteur was her first job in hiding after a brief marriage to a wealthy bar patron who became an abusive control freak.     

She had been watching Amy set up the lounge area in the bar and could tell that something was bothering her. Walking over, Dee asked, “What’s wrong with you, girl?” Looking up, Amy replied, “Nothing.” Dee responded, smiling, “Don’t lie to me; I’m intuitive.” Amy hesitated and then said, “I don’t think Glenn likes me. It’s Saturday, and he has me waiting tables in the lounge. I’m not going to make any money tonight.” Then in a whisper, she said, “Pam will probably make more money than me,” as a tear ran down her right cheek. Dee exclaimed, “Girl, you’re silly. Have you looked at OpenTable to see the reservations for tonight? Amy answered, “No.” Dee continued, “At 6:45, the lounge area is reserved for a bridal shower dinner for the entire evening. The reservation is for thirty people with a guaranteed twenty percent gratuity. “Really,” Amy exclaimed as her face transformed into an expression of pure joy. “Yes, really,” Dee replied. She then said, “And yes, Glenn likes you. That’s why you’re in the bar tonight. Other than Doug, David, and myself, you’re the only other person Glenn trusts with this many people at one time. They will be the first bridal shower event we’ve had since opening, and Glenn wants to make sure they have a good time. Amy’s smile was all Dee needed to see. She then said, “Have fun tonight, girl,” and in a whisper stated, “You’ll make way more money than Pam.” Smiling ear to ear, Amy asked, “You really think so?” Dee answered, “In all the years of waiting tables and bartending, I can say from experience that these women will be drinking a lot of alcohol. The downside to a party like this, though, is having to tolerate the behavior of these drunk-ass bitches. I don’t know if it will be one check or all separate, but if you do your job right and upsell, you’ll do just fine. If they’re assholes, fuck em! You’ll make your money.” Saying this with a smile, she walked away to finish setting up her section.

Amy is 24 years old and currently in college, earning her master’s in physical therapy. She works Thursday, Friday, and Saturday evenings. The rest of her week is devoted to studying and earning a second degree in nutrition while doing an internship at a Physical Therapy clinic. Upon graduation, she wants to open a gym specializing in injury recovery and helping people lose weight. Smiling ear to ear, Amy began to dance around the lounge as she polished, not uttering a sound. Happy at the thought of how much money she could make tonight.

Mackenzie, seeing Amy dancing said to Pam, “I wonder why Amy’s so happy.” She replied, “I don’t know, and I don’t give a damn!” Looking directly at Pam, Mackenzie exclaimed, “You are always such a bitch! No one likes working with you.” Pam shot back, “I don’t give a fuck what any of you think about me, especially you!” As Mackenzie finished polishing a wine glass and placing it on the table, she backed away and said through a smirk, “Bitch, you need to get laid, or is this too hard for you.” “Kiss my ass!” Pam retorted. Mackenzie shot back, “No, thank you bitch; you’re not my type.” Hearing this exchange, Doug walked over and said, “What’s the problem, ladies?” “Nothing,” Mackenzie answered, smiling. “Just letting our feelings be known.” Doug replied, “Then let this be the last I hear of it! We’ve got too much going on this evening for there to be animosity between our main players. Any more of this, and I will send one or both of you home.” Neither Mackenzie nor Pam said another word as they continued setting up their sections.  

Glenn and Rob were on the computer at the host stand checking the reservations on OpenTable to ensure that no reservation was overlooked. At 5:10, the hostesses Candice and Emily came into the restaurant. Glenn greeted them, “Good evening, ladies.” “Hi,” they both replied.

Candice is nineteen and will be a sophomore in college this coming fall semester. Having an athletic scholarship, she plays volleyball competitively and is a bodybuilder. Candice is an attractive young woman and dresses to show her assets. The black faux leather mini dress she’s wearing this evening flattered her toned hourglass figure. Emily is a twenty-year-old single mother of a three-year-old daughter. She works at Walmart during the week and at the restaurant on Friday and Saturday evenings. She lives with her mom and desperately misses going out with her friends. 

Emily asked, “Is it going to be busy tonight?” “Yes,” Rob answered.” Glenn interjected, “I’ve asked Rob to work here with you tonight. We have 256 reservations for dinner. Walkins can only sit at the bar or have drinks on the patio. There’s a thirty-top reservation at 6:45 that will take all the lounge tables to accommodate. If people ask to be seated in the lounge, you have to tell them no and explain why. Candice asked, “What if they get mad?” Rob replied, “That’s why I’m here with you tonight. I’ll deal with this situation should it arise.” Emily sighed in relief, saying, “Good, some people can be real assholes when they don’t get their way.” Glenn smiled and said, “Everything is going to be okay, ladies. We will deal with the assholes like we always do.”

Ernie had stocked the bar with beer, wine, and backup liquor bottles. Chelsey was just finishing cutting fruit and was about to stuff olives with blue cheese. Brandon said, “Hey guys, come here.” As they approached, he handed them both a shot glass down low and said, “Let’s have a great night.” Throwing back the shots, Chelsey’s face contorted as she exclaimed, “Ew, that’s awful. What was that?” Brandon answered, “Bourbon neat.” She replied, “I hate Bourbon.” Brandon and Ernie both smiled. 

Brandon then said, “Ernie, you’re on the bar well with me and back up on the service well. He then said to Chelsey, “I know you like to work by yourself on the well, but tonight I think it will take both of you to keep up on the service tickets. These come before guests at the bar. If needed, Glenn, Doug, or Dee can help make drinks if they have time.”

“The bridal shower party will be drinking lots of beer, Cosmos, and shots. Ernie, I want you to pull two six-packs of each light beer from the liquor room and put them in the walk-in cooler. We may not need the beer, but it’s better to have it already chilled if we do. Also, bring two extra bottles of Tito’s vodka for backup. Ernie nodded, took the liquor room key from the cash register, and walked away.

Ernie is thirty-one years old and has been a bartender for ten years locally. He’s an alcoholic, and like so many others, this is a lifestyle he can’t afford to leave. When at work, he drinks for free and leaves intoxicated every night. He’s gotten two DUI’s and had his driver’s license revoked for five years. He lives close to the restaurant and walks or rides a bicycle to work. He and Brandon have known each other since grade school.   

As Earnie walked away, Brandon said to Chelsey, “I’ve had some complaints from several of the servers on how long it takes to get drinks when it’s busy, and you’re on the well. Tonight is going to be busy. Do not wait until you’re in the weeds to ask for help. Okay?” To this, she nodded and said, “Yes.” Irritated at what Brandon had just told her.

Chelsey is an arrogant, controlling bitch! She’s twenty-eight and has graduated college with a fine arts degree. She teaches art in middle school. Like a lot of other students, she tended bar all through college. During the summertime break, she bartends for the extra money. Chelsea is not a friendly person, and none of the service staff likes her. 

By this time, everyone had finished with the dining room setup. At Doug’s gesture, they all began to head to the lounge area for pre-shift. Mackenzie ran out to the car to fix her makeup and light up the doobie a couple more times. David went to the locker room, followed by Milton and Zac. David drank a shot of Jack Daniels from a flask. As always, Zac just stood there looking lost, so David offered it to him. “Thanks, man,” he exclaimed and took a big swallow of the whiskey and handed it back. David then snorted a bump of cocaine. Milton took a drink of tequila straight from a half-pint bottle kept in his backpack. David offered Milton a bump, and at first, he hesitated and then said, “Fuck it!” Taking the key from David, he snorted a bump and gestured to David’s nod of approval, he handed the bag of cocaine and key to Zac, who exclaimed, “Wow, man, thanks.” He snorted two bumps then handed the key and bag of cocaine back to Milton. David said, “Wipe your lip off Zac; you missed some.” Using his forefinger, he wiped the powder away and stuck his finger in his mouth. He then exclaimed, “Damn, this is going to be a good night. I can feel it!” Not responding, Milton handed the bag of cocaine back to David as they put their stuff away, and then headed towards the lounge.

Zac is twenty-five years old and can never keep a job for any length of time. When employed, he readily shares whatever illegal or inebriating substances that are in his possession. A likable person, Zac uses this to his advantage. An aspiring writer, he’s not without hope after earning national recognition for leadership and bravery during one of the worst hurricanes in modern history. At this event, he shook the hands of former presidents Bill Clinton, George Bush, and Barack Obama. 

Milton is thirty-five, married, and has two young children. During the day, he works for his uncle as a painter. He’s been a waiter for about fifteen years and works at a slow pace. He has a reputation for being greedy and stealing tables. Glenn and Doug are both aware of this, and they closely watch what he does.

David is forty-three and has worked in fine dining for almost twenty years. He owns a row of condominiums downtown where he lives and rents the others. Well connected in the local drug scene, his buyers buy quantity. David’s goal is to retire at the age of fifty and buy a motorhome to travel the country.  

Pam had been in the restroom frantically texting the guy she had sex with Wednesday night. They met on Wednesday as she waited tables. After getting off work, they went to his place for a drink, and she stayed the night. He has not spoken to her since. As Pam came out of the restroom, Dee could tell that she had been crying. Knowing how Pam usually responds, Dee chose not to ask what was wrong. Doug made one last round, checking all the tables to ensure everything looked good, lemons cut, and tea made. He then checked both restrooms and walked into the lounge, saying, “Everything looks great! Thank you, everybody.”

The kitchen staff had been preparing for the evening’s drama all day. Like most privately owned restaurant kitchens, this one was small. But it was jammed full with every piece of kitchenware Theresa could fit in this tiny little space. The kitchen area was only 232 square feet. It was the only room in this old building that could be the kitchen space. The freezer and cooler were outside and attached to the building.  

Naomi and Noland had been at the restaurant since 8 AM, prepping everything assigned by chefs Vitor and Pia. The food items prepared were fresh baked bread and pasta made from scratch. Vegetables were blanched, and a chilled avocado soup freshly made. Oysters were shucked and rinsed, and meat was picked from the whole Dungeness crab. Prawns peeled and deveined and laid back in the shell and stuffed with crab meat. Scallops wrapped with prosciutto. Whole Grouper fish were cleaned and cut into 10 oz steaks. Abalone snail shucked and trimmed. A demi-glace was made from the trimmed ribeye and filet steaks. They had made three salad dressings from scratch, two different ice cream flavors, amaretto gelato, raspberry swirl cheesecake, chocolate lava cake with a drunken pomegranate icing, and cashew pie crusts for Pia’s dessert special. All of these items are time-intensive and made fresh every day.

Naomi and Noland had both earned a two-year associate’s degree in culinary arts. Noland is twenty-eight years old and lives with his girlfriend. He’s a heavy drinker and a drug addict. Restaurant Auteur is his first job after being fired from a restaurant where he was the kitchen manager. Naomi is twenty-one and a recent graduate. This is her first real job at a restaurant. She likes to drink bourbon neat, snort cocaine, and smoke a lot of weed.   

Matthew and Pia came in at 10 PM and began preparing their and Vitor’s specialty preps for the evening. Vitor came in at 3 PM to order produce, meat, and seafood for delivery on Monday. Vitor is a graduate of the Culinary Institute of America in New York. He was born in Portugal and came to the States as a child. At age thirty-two, he was offered his first executive chef title, and like most chefs, is an arrogant asshole. At 5’6 and 220 pounds, Vitor has a massive Napoleon complex. He screams at people and throws things when he’s busy or angry. It’s his opinion that he is the only person among the entire restaurant staff who knows what he’s doing. No one liked him from day one, but Glen had asked everyone to show respect for the position he held.

Matthew had earned a two-year associate’s degree in culinary arts from a local community college at the age of twenty. Now twenty-five, as the sous chef, he’s incredibly artistic, and his menu items are well-planned and executed. As are most chefs, Matthew is a heavy drinker and a drug addict. Most nights, he leaves work to go to bars that play live music. Those who know him will often ask him to play drum solos, which is his other passion. Both Glenn and Doug thought that Matthew was the better choice for the executive chef position. The entrees he creates are more complex, visually appealing, and palatable than anything Vitor has yet to create.

Pia is a rare gem. She’s thirty-one and was born in South America. For the previous five years, she had been an apprentice to the world-renowned Michelin-starred Chef Francis Mallmann in Argentina. Her training was in Patagonian cuisine and traditional South American barbecue. Her passion, though, was baking and desserts. Joseph and Theresa had met her while in Argentina on vacation. They were very fortunate to have had the opportunity to talk with Pia when having dinner at 1884 Restaurant. When they learned that she was stateside on a work visa, Theresa contacted her through Facebook to offer the pastry chef position, which she accepted. Pia does not do drugs, and only occasionally does she drink alcohol. She’s the pillar of sanity when everyone else in the kitchen loses theirs.

At 5:13, Glen walked into the kitchen to ask Vitor if he was ready for pre-shift. Vitor answered, “Yes.” He asked Matthew to bring the entree special for the evening out to the bar. Most of the service staff was excited to see the presentation and to taste the evening’s special. Dee went to the wait station to get plates, a knife, and forks for everyone. She brought them to the bar, and several of the staff thanked her. Vitor was first out of the kitchen, followed by Matthew, who held in both hands the special. As he placed it on the table, David said, “Damn, that looks delicious!” The plate was an eighteen by twelve-inch unfinished oak board two inches thick. Sitting it down, Matthew began to explain the composition of the dish.

“This evening’s special is a thirty-two-ounce A5 Miyazaki Wagyu tomahawk ribeye grilled over hickory coals. It was delivered yesterday. For anyone who asks for the steak’s authenticity, I have the certification for review. In 2007, 2012, and 2017, the Miyazaki cow was recognized as the best beef in Japan, even higher than Kobe. It’s the most exotic and coveted cut of beef in the world. There’s nothing else like it. The bone is cut along its length for those who want to eat the marrow. The ribeye is about two and a half inches thick and weighs around twenty-two ounces; the rest of the weight is the bone. It’s a gorgeous piece of meat!” “Damn right it is,” David exclaimed as several people laughed. Matthew passionately exclaimed, “This piece of meat makes me want to hunt and fuck!” The room erupted with laughter at what he had said. It was about a minute before he could continue.

“This entree is for two people to share. While grilling, it’s basted with the oil from the meat and fat trimmed from the ribeye that has been baked since this morning, mixed with butter, garlic, and thyme twigs. It’s dusted lightly with cracked pepper and just a pinch of sea salt for a bit more flavor. It’s then topped with white truffle blue cheese butter.” The sides are uncut baby fingerling potatoes and red onions that were slow-baked underneath the fat and trimmings of the ribeye with just a little bit of salt and pepper. The vegetable is blanched asparagus sauteed in a lemon butter chardonnay wine reduction. The golden Morel mushrooms are steamed without any flavoring so that their taste is very distinct. I recommend rare to medium for the most flavorful taste of the marbleization in this ribeye. The price is $1,260.00.” “Wow,” exclaimed Brandon. Matthew continued, “The guests have the option of the ribeye by itself or as a surf and turf. You can offer U4 diver scallops as an add-on to the special. They’re eight to a pound. These motherfuckers are huge! I hand-picked the ones that will come with the special. These arrived today by overnight flight from the fish market yesterday. They’re the best we could find. Ten scallops come with the dish. They’re sauteed to medium and topped with a drizzle of buttered Grand Marnier, blood orange, and coconut milk reduction. The price of the special with scallops is $1,380.00.” “Damn that’s expensive,” exclaimed Milton. Vitor replied, “You get what you pay for.” 

Vitor then explained, “As the back waiters bring the special to the table, they will leave the cart positioned length-wise tableside. Servers, you will cut the ribeye off the bone, leaving the bone on the plate and slicing the meat into about a half-inch slices. Set the dish in the middle of the table for the guest’s convenience. It shouldn’t take more than a minute to do this, and you will need to have mitts on to pick up the wood board because it is kept in a hot box so that the food doesn’t get cold too quickly. You will bring the cart and utensils back to the kitchen.” Glenn said, “This is a beautiful presentation. Job well done.” “Thank you,” both Vitor and Matthew replied. Vitor then said, “I had Matthew prepare tonight’s special for you to not only see its presentation but also to taste it. I do not agree with chefs who won’t allow the service staff to taste the specials. You are much more capable of selling a dish like this when the guests can feel the enthusiasm with which you describe it. Bon Appetit.”  

There wasn’t any conversation for the next few minutes except for people cooing as everyone took turns devouring the food. Amy then said, “Oh my god, this steak is delicious! It melts in your mouth. I’ve never had anything like this before.” She then asked, “How many of these do we have to sell tonight?” Matthew answered, “Twenty-three. You need to sell all of them tonight because we are closed tomorrow.” Doug then offered a challenge, “I’ll give $100 to anyone who sells more of these than me.” “Hahaha,” laughed Glenn out loud. He then said, “I’ll match that!” Dee responded, “Doug, you’re a badass, and we all know it, but I’ll do my best to take $200 from both of you. You’re on!” 

Vitor said, Should someone ask to modify the dish, you will tell them I will not accommodate their request because it changes the entire dish’s composition, texture, and taste. There have been hours of prep done for this special. I don’t care what someone’s preferences are. Either they eat the special how I have prepared it, or they can order something different. There are other beef and meat choices they can have. In addition to the special, I have twenty-four petite six-ounce and twenty-four ten-ounce filet mignons of a Wagyu Black Angus crossbreed farmed in Kentucky. This meat arrived yesterday also. The six-ounce sells for $65, the ten-ounce for $110.”

Doug asked, “Besides the special, is tonight’s menu different from last night?” “Yes,” Vitor answered, “In limited quantity tonight as an appetizer, I’m offering thirty servings of grouper cheek tartare topped with a sprinkling of extra virgin olive oil, finely chopped caper, lemon peel, and shallot florets. It’s finished with a pinch of salt and pepper, fresh wasabi root paste, and dry roasted endive. An add-on to this dish is Iranian Beluga gold caviar at market price. When these sell out we will offer grouper steak tartare. 

I have thirty servings of Wagyu cheek tartare mixed with extra virgin olive oil, aged whole grain dijon mustard, capers, finely sliced spring onion, and black truffle crumble, topped with a splash of sherry vinegar, and a pinch of salt and pepper. It’s finished with a locally sourced quail egg yolk, laid this morning, and dry roasted endive. When these sell out, we will offer wagyu filet tartare.

Arrived this morning are twenty servings of sauteed Mexican abalone sea snail sitting on a bed of steamed Kelp and drizzled with a Tequila Picante lime sauce.

“Appetizers in unlimited quantities are prosciutto-wrapped U4 diver scallops on top of steamed spinach with a buttered lemon vodka cream sauce. I’m offering New Zealand coromandel oysters on the half-shell, half-dozen, or a dozen, served with a mignonette sauce. The caviar would be a great upsell for this dish also. A shared appetizer is the charcuterie board, with truffled salami, prosciutto, and wagyu bresaola. Four different cuts of pule, cambozola black blue cheese, old ford, and wyke farms cheddar cheese. There’s room-temperature grilled asparagus and eggplant, heirloom cherry tomatoes, pickled red onion, and english cucumber. Finishing the board is house-made apple butter, garlic and pine nut roasted red pepper hummus, and sourdough toast points. There are three vegetarian choices. Baked harissa and goat cheese stuffed baby portabella mushrooms, topped with a pine nut chimichurri. Freshly made chilled avocado soup. The garden salad is a mix of iceberg, arugula, and romaine lettuce. Julienned red onion, cucumber, carrot and radish, cherry tomato, pepadu pepper, and hearts of palm. The five dressing choices are lemon champagne vinaigrette, greek yogurt blue cheese, bourbon peach pecan puree, balsamic vinaigrette, and olive oil and vinegar.” 

“The main seafood courses with limited quantities are sixty-two servings of sauteed ten-ounce skin-on red grouper. The sides are baby bok choy, samphire, and heirloom cherry tomatoes on top of basmati rice. Sitting in a white wine and blood orange saffron nage. There are forty servings of dungeness crab-stuffed african tiger prawn. The side is blanched asparagus buds, sea grape, black olive, and red onion tarragon risotto. A champagne citrus beurre blanc is drizzled over the meat to finish the dish. These prawns are fucking huge! Each one is as long as my forearm. There are two per plate.” “In unlimited quantity, I’m offering U4 diver scallops pan-seared to medium. The sides are haricot vert sauteed in a white wine lemon butter reduction with julienned sweet potato wedges sauteed in creme fraiche, milk, vanilla honey butter, and cinnamon sticks sauce. The scallops are topped with a buttered Grand Marnier, blood orange, and coconut milk reduction. There are five per plate.

“The meat courses with limited quantities are twenty-three servings of tonight’s special. Twenty-four each six-ounce and ten-ounce wagyu black Angus filet mignon prepared how they like with a choice of sides. There are forty-two servings of sauteed five-ounce wood duck breast topped with white truffle butter. The sides are white and purple eggplant wheels, steamed crimini mushrooms, cream cheese garlic mashed red potatoes, and a side of merlot demi-glace. Two breasts per dish. There are thirty-eight servings of grilled frenched Icelandic rack of lamb. The sides are Israeli couscous mixed with finely chopped shallot, black olives, capers, shaved garlic, roasted capsicum, and whole red chanterelle mushrooms. All of this sits on top of a bed of wilted chard with a side of merlot demi-glace. Mint jelly if requested. The vegetarian entree is unlimited and made to the guest’s specifications. They can choose either grilled or sauteed vegetables. The side choices are mushroom risotto or homemade fettuccine pasta tossed in a white pesto sauce with peppadew peppers, black olives, capers, garlic, and fresh sage. Thinking for a moment, Vitor said, “That’s everything.”

Doug commented, “This is by far the best menu in town tonight! Great job, everybody.”  “Thank you,” they all responded. Pia had been standing beside Matthew during his presentation, and as Vitor finished with what he had to say, he asked her, “Is the dessert special ready?” “Yes, chef,” she answered and went into the kitchen to get it from the cooler. 

Doug asked, “What are the vegetables for this evening?” Vitor asked, “Matthew, what are the vegetables on the menu tonight?” He answered, “Asparagus, fingerling potatoes, red potato, sweet potato, red onion, and shallot. Baby broccoli, haricot vert, pink and white oyster, crimini, red chanterelle, and golden morel mushrooms. White and purple eggplant, purple, red, orange, yellow, and green heirloom tomatoes. Purple, orange, and white heirloom carrots. English cucumber, hearts of palm, romaine, arugula, iceberg lettuce, spinach, and the sea lettuce is available only with the abalone. Rubbing his chin, thinking a moment, he continued, “Red chard, celery, and baby bok choy, which is only available for the grouper dish. I don’t have any extra of the kelp or bok choy, so do not offer it as a substitution.”

Just as Matthew finished talking, Pia approached with the dessert special. As she placed it on the table, Amy was the first to say, “That looks amazingly delicious, and the colors are stunning!”” David said, “Tell us all about this decadent concoction you’ve made.” Smiling, Pia explained, “This evening’s dessert special is a layered rose water syrup pink flan with a guava mousse center that’s encased in a thin white vanilla chocolate shell. The bottom is a finely crushed roasted cashew and salted butter crust. It’s topped with a mint rum sorbet resting on a bed of lime whipped cream. To finish, the sorbet is topped with a rum-drunk piquante pepper, and the plate is lightly drizzled with a pinot noir guava puree and fresh mint leaf. I created this dessert to tease all the different taste buds. There’s salt and sweet, cool and heat, creamy, crunchy, spicy and tart, and a slight hint of mint. I’m delighted with how this dessert has turned out.

Doug asked, “Is this dessert gluten-free?” “Yes,” Pia answered. She then added, “When recommending this dessert, if they’re vegan, this dessert is not for them. Amy asked, “How does a pepper complement a dessert? I’m confused.” Pia answered, “The piquante pepper, better known as peppadeu pepper, is sweet and spicey with a heat note of around 1200 units. It’s not hot like a cayenne pepper is. It’s the three different taste elements of heat, spice, and sweetness, in that progression of flavor intensity that makes the piquante pepper perfect as an element in a dessert like this. The heat note is subtle, but noticeable on the palate. Soaking in the rum or any kind of alcohol over time dissolves capsaicin from the pepper which is the element that causes the heat sensation, making the pepper less hot. The heat flavor is transferred to the alcohol. It’s complex but simple.” Amy exclaimed, “Wow Pia, You’re amazing!” Smiling ear to ear, Pia curtsied. Then standing up tall, she proudly stated, “I had an amazing teacher.!” Okay, everybody, enjoy!”

Milton was the first to taste the dessert, saying only, “Oh my god!” Dee exclaimed, “Wow! Pia, this is delicious!” “Thank you,” she responded. As everyone else tasted the dessert and commented on how good it was, Vitor, Matthew, and Pia went into the kitchen. Glen said, “We open in seven minutes. Get this cleaned up, please. Everyone look over your section one last time and make sure the guest checkbooks are clean.” He then said to Candice and Emily, “Hostesses, tonight’s menus are on my desk in the printer. Get them please, and look at the floor plan to see how many need to be placed on each table for the first seating. Thank you.”

Judith collected the silverware and plates, stacked them on the wood board, and took them to the kitchen’s dish area. She’s twenty-seven years old, a single mother whose mother has full custody of her nine-year-old granddaughter. Judith is often in jail for being drunk in public, selling drugs, and getting into fistfights with other women and sometimes men at a bar. She’s a train wreck always going somewhere to happen.    

From the kitchen, everyone heard Vitor scream, “What the fuck is this? Who fucked up the demi-glace?” Glenn looked at Doug to say, “Let the evening’s drama begin.” Doug smiled and said to Dee, “Somebody’s ass is in trouble. “Noland said to Vitor, “I did chef, what’s wrong?” Vitor screamed, “The demi-glace is soupy. It’s too fucking thin!” Noland answered, “I’ve been reducing the demi-glace since about 2 o’clock chef.” Vitor screamed, “This is bullshit; what the fuck is your problem! We open in five minutes, and I don’t have a goddamn demi-glace for the meat entrees. What the fuck have you been doing, playing with yourself?” 

“No, chef,” Noland answered. “Naomi and I have been busy since eight this morning preparing everything on the list. We’ve not had a break all day.” Vitor fired back, “I don’t give a fuck about your break. I expect shit to be done right and on time!” Noland asked, “How can I fix it, chef?” Vitor screamed, “You can’t. Naomi, I want you on the demi-glace right now! I want it thickened with arrowroot and ready for when we open. Get it done in four minutes.” “Yes, chef,” she replied. Walking by Noland, she smiled at him, sticking her tongue out while shaking her head. Seeing this gesture, Vitor screamed at Naomi, “You think this is funny, goddammit!” “No chef, my apologies,” she answered with a straight face. Walking to the spice rack where the arrowroot was, she took it off the shelf and walked to where the saute pans hung to grab one. She went to the sink to add a little water and walked to the grill, turning a gas burner on high. Adding the arrowroot slowly, she stirred the two components together until diluted. Moving over to where the demi-glace was sitting on simmer, Naomi turned the flame up to medium and slowly added the arrowroot while constantly stirring.

Watching the drama unfold, Ray just smiled and shook his head. Taking a bottle of vodka out of his front pocket, he took a long drink. Not one to say much, at fifty-two years old, he’s been a dishwasher most of his life. Ray went to jail twice. Once for selling marijuana and the other time for being a repeat DUI offender. His driving privilege was revoked for life, and he either walks or rides the bus. He drinks a half liter of Smirnoff Vodka every day. His eyes are bloodshot, and he reeks of liquor, but he’s never late for work. Glenn brought him here from the last restaurant they worked at together, paying him $20.00 an hour. Every night Doug takes up a cash collection from the waiters and bartenders to give to Ray. They never have to wait for clean dishes or glassware, and Ray keeps the ice bins at the service stations and the bar full. Glenn opened a bank account for Ray and helps him save his money to hopefully one day buy a house in the neighborhood where he grew up.  

Sitting down in the kitchen office, Vitor looked at the clock which read 5:27 PM. Opening the door, he yelled, “Open in three minutes! Is everyone ready?” “Yes, chef,” shouted the kitchen staff in unison. He then yelled, “Has the demi-glace thickened Naomi? She answered, “Yes, chef, thick as melted butter.” Vitor yelled back, “It’s good to know that you have the talent to fix Nolands fuck up,” as he slammed the door. Leaning back into the chair, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a bag of cocaine. He snorted a bump in each nostril, using the long nail on his pinkie finger. Leaning back in the chair once more, feeling the rush coming on, he took one more bump.

Matthew gestured to both Noland and Naomi, and they walked over to where he was standing. He took a bag of cocaine out of his pocket, and they did two bumps each. Matthew then whispered, “I can tell by his attitude that Vitor is going to be a real prick tonight. So grin and bear it, and hopefully, we will make it through the evening without any of us getting fired.” They all giggled, bumped fists, and turned to walk to their stations. Naomi was on cold appetizers and salads. Noland made the hot appetizers and meats on the grill. Pia made all of the desserts and floated where someone needed help. Matthew was on seafood, sautee, and plating the entrees to sit in the service window.

Looking at the clock once again, it read 5:29 PM. Exhaling a deep sigh, Vitor snorted one more bump. He stood up, opened the door, and walked over to the expo line. He said, “I’m working expo unless we get slammed and if this is the case, Matthew will be on the grill. Noland on hot appetizers. Naomi on cold apps and salads and helping Noland if necessary. Let’s stay focused and not fuck up and have any remakes this evening.”  “Yes, chef,” they responded in unison.

Glen went into his office and sat down. Taking a bottle of Stitzel-Weller 12 out of the bottom drawer of his desk and poured about two ounces neat into a snifter. Looking at the bourbon while swirling and taking in the aroma, he raised his hand to an imaginary toast and said, “Here’s to a wild night.” Taking a sip and exhaling heavily, he then finished the bourbon in one big gulp. Setting the glass back in the drawer, he walked out of the office towards the host stand. Rob had walked outside to his Volvo SUV and lit a bowl, taking several hits. Putting it back in the console, he took a big swallow of Chopin vodka from a bottle also kept in the console. Locking the vehicle, he walked towards the back door of the kitchen. Just then, Joseph and Theresa drove onto the property in their Bently Bentayga. He waved to them as he went inside. 

Walking to the host stand, Rob said to Glenn, “Joseph and Theresa are here.” Looking at his watch, Glenn said, “It’s 5:30, ladies, please open the doors.” He then shouted, “We’re now open. Let’s have a great night.” Walking in the front door, Joseph and Theresa greeted everyone within hearing distance. Joseph walked to the bar and asked Brandon to pour him two glasses of Malbec, which he promptly did. Taking a glass in each hand, Joseph made his way to the kitchen. Theresa looked at Glenn, sighed a deep sigh, and said, “I hope he doesn’t get too drunk tonight!”