I’ve always had a passion for cooking, ever since my grandmother passed down her knowledge to the only grand child that seemed to have any interest in the complexities of food. My grandmother often said that all food needs that extra little bit to make it stand out. I thought she meant love, but apparently it was various spices and she was the reason why I took up cooking in the first place. Funny, that is how I met Mark my ex boyfriend. We got together through some friends just after high school at a cooking expo.
Mark was the one who encouraged me to go to culinary school. Ironically, it was my long hours in classes and then in my first job as an apprentice that tore us apart. I couldn’t really blame him, because he was right, but he knew that the long hours came with the career. Anyway, that was six months ago and I don’t think I could’ve gotten through it without my best friend Peter.
I still remember the first day I introduced Peter to my grandmother Cecilia. It didn’t go well. She didn’t like white people and she especially didn’t like white people in her kitchen. She tolerated his presence because I asked her to. She was always doing things like that. She lived in the past and couldn’t forget certain horrible memories that highlighted the racial issues her family had to deal with growing up. She would not comprehend how I could actually get along with fair-skinned Peter.
Peter is standing across from me and is waiting for his Spaghetti Bolognese. I have now been the head chef of Frankie’s for the past 3 months, but I’m starting to think that I might want to strike out on my own.
It’s after hours and no one is here, but Peter and me. I asked him to come as I previously mentioned that I needed is advice. I took the plate of food out to him and he immediately started to eat.
“Maria, you make the best spaghetti of all time.” He never orders anything else, no matter how many times I’ve told him about the specials, he would always order the spaghetti.
“Peter, I asked you here to get your opinion on something. I’ve only been a chef here for the last 3 months, but I’m starting to feel restless. I know it’s early in my career, but I’ve been seriously considering taking the next step and opening my own place.” He stops eating and puts down his fork. I can tell that he is about to be brutally honest with me and that’s why I love him. He’s the one person besides my grandmother who would tell me exactly what he thinks.
“First of all, I think you owning your own restaurant is a great idea. I’ve always raved about you to my friends and family. Now, that being said, are you sure this isn’t something that you want to do because of Mark. I know how he hurt you, and this might be your way of showing him he was wrong.”
“I’ve never thought about it like that, but I don’t think about him at all.” He looks at me skeptically and then smiles and puts his hand on mine.
“Ok, if that’s true, then I will support you with whatever you need, besides money that is. You know I haven’t been working much with the economy and all, but I think things might be turning around. I have an interview with a contractor tomorrow, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed that I get hired for the foreman’s position. If I make it, I’ll be locked into a 4 year project, with the possibility of more after.”
“I think that’s great Peter, but can I make a suggestion without you biting my head off?”
“I can’t promise that, you know that Mar, but you know I’ll always listen.” He was right, he does always listen, but more times than not, he usually does his own thing anyway.
“I think it might be time to shave that god awful beard and cut the long hair. I can give you the name of the woman who does my hair and I’m sure that she would fit you in for me.” Peter scratches his beard and seems to be giving it some thought.
“I thought you liked my rough exterior. You said it showed
Mark was the one who encouraged me to go to culinary school. Ironically, it was my long hours in classes and then in my first job as an apprentice that tore us apart. I couldn’t really blame him, because he was right, but he knew that the long hours came with the career. Anyway, that was six months ago and I don’t think I could’ve gotten through it without my best friend Peter.
I still remember the first day I introduced Peter to my grandmother Cecilia. It didn’t go well. She didn’t like white people and she especially didn’t like white people in her kitchen. She tolerated his presence because I asked her to. She was always doing things like that. She lived in the past and couldn’t forget certain horrible memories that highlighted the racial issues her family had to deal with growing up. She would not comprehend how I could actually get along with fair-skinned Peter.
Peter is standing across from me and is waiting for his Spaghetti Bolognese. I have now been the head chef of Frankie’s for the past 3 months, but I’m starting to think that I might want to strike out on my own.
It’s after hours and no one is here, but Peter and me. I asked him to come as I previously mentioned that I needed is advice. I took the plate of food out to him and he immediately started to eat.
“Maria, you make the best spaghetti of all time.” He never orders anything else, no matter how many times I’ve told him about the specials, he would always order the spaghetti.
“Peter, I asked you here to get your opinion on something. I’ve only been a chef here for the last 3 months, but I’m starting to feel restless. I know it’s early in my career, but I’ve been seriously considering taking the next step and opening my own place.” He stops eating and puts down his fork. I can tell that he is about to be brutally honest with me and that’s why I love him. He’s the one person besides my grandmother who would tell me exactly what he thinks.
“First of all, I think you owning your own restaurant is a great idea. I’ve always raved about you to my friends and family. Now, that being said, are you sure this isn’t something that you want to do because of Mark. I know how he hurt you, and this might be your way of showing him he was wrong.”
“I’ve never thought about it like that, but I don’t think about him at all.” He looks at me skeptically and then smiles and puts his hand on mine.
“Ok, if that’s true, then I will support you with whatever you need, besides money that is. You know I haven’t been working much with the economy and all, but I think things might be turning around. I have an interview with a contractor tomorrow, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed that I get hired for the foreman’s position. If I make it, I’ll be locked into a 4 year project, with the possibility of more after.”
“I think that’s great Peter, but can I make a suggestion without you biting my head off?”
“I can’t promise that, you know that Mar, but you know I’ll always listen.” He was right, he does always listen, but more times than not, he usually does his own thing anyway.
“I think it might be time to shave that god awful beard and cut the long hair. I can give you the name of the woman who does my hair and I’m sure that she would fit you in for me.” Peter scratches his beard and seems to be giving it some thought.
“I thought you liked my rough exterior. You said it showed
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