Read Online Steamed by Jessica Conant-Park, Susan Conant - Free Book Online Page A

anything to do with the quality of the chef ’s food. A bad economy, poor advertising by the owners, that kind of thing. I mean, let’s face it. There are plenty of very successful restaurants in Boston that serve crummy food, but the restaurants have been so hyped up and blitzed all over the media with the right spin that nobody even cares.”
     
    Eric didn’t seem to get the idea that a two-person conversation is supposed to be like tennis: back and forth. Instead of sending the ball to my side of the court, he just kept hitting it against the backboard.
     
    “So,” he persisted, “people in this restaurant business are always blaming somebody for something. Tim is a great guy, though, and I think he knows when to assign blame and when not to. But no matter who gets blamed, most nights the whole staff will end up staying out together until the bars close. It’s a crazy world.”
     
    Although I realized that Eric was by no means my soul mate, and not even second-date material, and although I was pretty sick of having him monopolize the conversation, I was interested in some of what he had to say about the restaurant world. I knew a lot about food and eating, but except for what I’d read in Boston Magazine , I didn’t know much about the business itself. After Cassie had cleared our plates, Eric evidently remembered that I, too, possessed the power of speech, and we discussed the pros and cons of investing in Essence. I almost started to enjoy the conversation. I noticed, however, that not once during the evening had he asked anything about me. He knew my name and knew I liked eating, and that information alone was evidently enough to make him comfortable in sharing his thoughts on possible financial transactions. Keeping the discussion away from anything that might further identify me was fine. After tolerating his self-important and dictatorial attitude all evening, I’d be content to fade away with my belly full and with Eric unable to contact me again.
     
    Note to self: Cancel Back Bay Dates account immediately upon completion of date!
     
    Eric’s cell phone rang. He glared at the Caller ID and picked up. “Hello? I told you not call me,” Eric hollered into the receiver.
     
    God, having lacked the decency to turn off the phone during our date, he went ahead and answered it? And screamed! Oh, what did I care? Dessert would probably be good. I had been eyeing the house speciality, honey-lavender crème brûlée, which I knew would have been made in advance. The sugared top would be seared with a torch just before serving, and even in his befuddled state Garrett probably wouldn’t mess that up.
     
    “Phil, if I were you, I’d take care of it.” Eric signaled to me that he was leaving to finish the call somewhere else. He headed toward a corridor at the back of the restaurant.
     
    Cassie brought me a cappuccino, which was delicious. Nothing can kill a good meal like a finale of bad coffee. I
     
    can never understand why some places serve the worst coffee. How hard can it be to buy a good bean and brew a pot? Okay, myself not included. But if I owned a restaurant, I’d buy a coffeemaker that worked.
     
    When I’d finished the cappuccino, Eric still hadn’t returned, and I was itching for the crème brûlée. Unfortunately for me, my mother’s training prevented me from ordering while Eric was gone. I looked into the kitchen to see whether Eric had invited himself into the heart of the restaurant to pester poor Garrett. I didn’t see my date and practically threw my hands up in exasperation at the evening’s events. Two cappuccinos later, I said to hell with manners and ordered dessert from Cassie.
     
    “Have you seen Eric?” I asked her. “He left to finish a call on his cell phone and hasn’t come back.”
     
    She shook her head but promised to look for him. She wasn’t worried that he’d skipped out; as a guest of the restaurant, he’d hardly have run off to avoid paying a