December had always been the busiest time of the year in the hospitality industry and therefore most of Kate’s recent shifts in the kitchen would be classed as acrid, intense, and sweaty. One of the highlights had been the previous night, with the restaurant fully booked to the rim and Kate in charge of the kitchen on her own. That had been the case quite often during the past month, for this is the treatment that any chef who would dare hand in their resignation letter would get. Anyway, it was dinner service’s rush hour: sizzling pots and pans, loud chefs, silent waiters, bustling kitchen porters, and luscious dishes— a beautiful mess coming together. That is when she heard Donna calling her name from the pastry kitchen. The tone in Donna’s voice was urgent, so Kate could tell that she really needed something. She couldn’t tell exactly what that was though and got quite annoyed. She was busy calling checks, tasting the food, and plating; and she was sure that Donna was very well aware of that. Regardless, she tilted her head from the kitchen’s pass to look into the pastry kitchen. The sight was quite shocking: Ginny, the new pastry girl, collapsed into Donna’s arms and Donna dragging her unconscious body towards the kitchen’s office.
“Just keep on sending food out guys, please do not stop, no matter what,’’ Kate shrieked and ran towards the office.
With Donna’s help, they laid Ginny on the floor and Kate took a good look at her. Kate’s hands were shaking. She couldn’t help but wonder, for a few seconds only, whether Ginny was dead or not. As Donna was explaining what had happened, Kate was administering first aid. Her fear went away when she saw that Ginny had actually recommenced breathing. That helped her concentrate and follow the standard protocol procedure with more clarity. The ambulance was on its way and Ginny was becoming more responsive by the minute. Kate was doing her best to keep her awake, by reassuring her that she was there taking care of her. She told her that she would go to the hospital with her, and that she had notified her boyfriend too. Ginny’s boyfriend was an idiot working next-door, as well as her emergency contact. Only a few minutes later, the emergency services were in the kitchen: three paramedics, two guys and a girl. By that time, Ginny could keep her eyes open but could not really talk much. Kate got out of the way and let them take over. While they were assessing Ginny’s situation, Kate gave the kitchen team instructions on how to proceed, while the two of them were going to be absent. Shortly thereafter, the incident was diagnosed as a simple faint due to stress, but they still had to go in the ambulance for some further tests. Kate helped the paramedics shepherd Ginny to the ambulance, as she was still quite dazed. They seemed very polite and reassuring while they performed the necessary checks and took care of the legal paperwork. Soon enough, Ginny got cleared out and as her kin had arrived too, Kate organised a cab for the both of them. She then had to go back to the kitchen, thank the team, notify her boss, and wrap everything up. A while later, she cycled back home, definitely quicker than usual. Once there, it took a little more than downing a glass of scotch for the adrenaline to wear off. On the other hand though, she knew that she did everything as she should have and in the end of the day, Ginny was fine. She went to bed and played the scene over and over again in her mind, until she finally fell asleep. The next morning she got up, had a shower, and headed straight to the train station.
When hell breaks loose, it is always a good time to go back home. A weekend spent with family, is the perfect way of indulging oneself to some tender loving care, which is usually offered unconditionally . Kate was in need of support and was feeling drained. Being surrounded by loved ones often helped her remember parts of herself which had been forgotten, due to the demanding and stressful reality she had put herself into. These parts were magically awakened by the combination of homemade food, hugs, TV-dinners and of course, a good old family argument. That way, humane memory fragments, submerged below stiff muscles and bags under her eyes , came back to the surface and made her feel like a person again.
Needless to say that those two days had gone by in a blink of an eye and Kate was in her aunt’s truck, who offered to give her a lift to the train station. Kate thanked her for the lovely weekend and kissed her goodbye, then picked her backpack up and got out of the truck. She gave her aunt a little wave as she rushed into the station. It was Sunday evening and there was nobody in charge, so she didn’t bother buying a ticket and headed straight to the platform. How much she loved the countryside, always placid and green— or at least in her civilised, privileged world. She sat on a bench, reached for her bag, and looked for a book to read while waiting. She could see her own frosty breath. The train-ride back home was going to be a rather long one, but she found herself looking forward to it. She was humming some tune and tapping her foot, while building up a picture of the ideal spot in her mind: a train quite full of returning townies and somewhere in the middle of a carriage, an empty seat by a window. Another essential aspect would be for the seat to face forwards. That way, she could both read her book and take small glimpses of the outdoors from time to time. Not much later, she was rather pleased to have parked herself in a seat quite similar to the one she had pictured earlier. She tried to make herself comfortable, wool-gathering and admiring the scenery. It did seem impossible however, as she could not take her mind off work.
Kate wondered why pursuing a career in gastronomy had to indicate a constant series of sacrifices for the rest of her life. Climbing up the ladder in kitchens, usually started with the important and shiny words commitment, dedication, and potential. Those three had always led the way and were followed by endless hours of work, disturbed and unsocial behaviour, mental and physical exhaustion. Furthermore, cooking for the best meant extreme hours of work and a meagre salary. On top of that all, it was plain and clear to everyone that this was the only way to thrive as a chef, take it or leave it; and guess what, Kate hardly knew anyone who hadn’t taken that deal.
A few months back, just before the dreadful general election had taken place, a private event had been held in her workplace. A very important person from the political scene was going to be dining that night, so Kate had to go through every single detail with her boss, Monsieur Oswald.
“Oh Chef, I can’t believe that I have to cook for him,’’ said Kate.
“It’s alright Kate, let them do their job and we will do ours,’’ said Monsieur Oswald.
“We are talking about him Chef’’, she said. Then, she made a gulping sound and blushed. “It’s kind of shameful’’, she muttered.
“Kate, listen to me carefully for once please. We are not here to change the world, we are here to cook. So just be the chef you are, take care of the cooking, and all is going to be fine.’’
Kate had felt as if something had died inside her that day. Monsieur Oswald has been her mentor and boss for over half of her career. He was the best chef she had ever worked for, a man with big heart, great skill, and a strong stomach for the job. There was no classic recipe, method, or ingredient that he hadn’t cooked , mastered, or heard of. He had been nurtured and taught by the best in the industry and for a very long time. He and Kate had chosen each other a few years back, but now she could see that she had grown to be downright different to him, despite the love and passion they shared for gastronomy. Monsieur Oswald was a man with a backwards mentality, going through a midlife crisis and the kitchen was his. Kate would like to think of herself as a sceptical and thoughtful human, with various concerns and interests regarding the world. That day, she decided that it was time for her to let go and move on. It did feel like a kick in the teeth though, as she had been longing to reach the top of the culinary chain, since she had first set foot in catering college. More than that, she dreaded Monsieur Oswald’s reaction. It was the right thing to do, however, she knew it in her gut.
It had been about two years ago, when Monsieur Oswald had offered Kate the position of Sous Chef, which she accepted right away, of course. At that moment, she had also thought, that she could possibly use the authority given to her in order to make the change that she had always wanted to see in kitchens. To be fair, she had tried to set an example for a little while. She had never stopped reminding her colleagues that cracking intimidating jokes regarding a girl’s period was not funny and most importantly, she never missed a chance to prove to them that her sex or the fact that she didn’t eat meat, had nothing to do with her skills as a chef and a team-leader.
The staff entrance of the fine establishment at which they worked, was located behind some rubbish bins, at the bottom of a small alley which was hidden at the end of a dead-end street. Together with the people who worked in there, it was concealed so well from the rest of the world, that sometimes even deliverymen struggled to find it. The smell of piss would be the first thing one would sense, straight after having taken a turn into the alley.
When in the kitchen, talking about art, education, politics, or even the environment was strictly prohibited. Sometimes, being happy and chatty was considered inappropriate too. Talking was not categorically forbidden, however. It was absolutely fine when Monsieur Oswald was in the mood for it and as long as the content was about celebrities, food, football, rich customers, or female sexual objectification. Of course, there was hardly any chance that Kate could even pull a face when she would hear something hateful, without being called a hippie or a rebel. Most of the days, she felt like she had taken a trip to the dark ages and was surrounded by bigotry and fear. Entering the kitchen knackered, on a daily basis and leaving for home in despair, night after night, was something that she couldn’t bear any longer. The urge to escape that loathsome nest and be herself was definitely much bigger than her passion for cooking at that moment.
She had pictured her last day a few times already– and, for some strange reason, she found the process of that mental preparation quite similar to when her mother’s life was coming to an end. On her ideal last day at work, however, she would be on a morning shift and would finish in good time, due to the celebrations in order. From early in the morning, everyone would joke about mistakes that had been made, broken or missing equipment, and how everything had been her fault, because she was the one leaving. Straight after lunch service, they would all gather in the kitchen for a glass of champagne, like classmates who dislike each other, but are glad because the school year is over. Pastry would have prepared a cake for her. Monsieur Oswald would have asked them to make it special, so it would be big, fruity, moist, and not too sweet. There would be some chocolate writing on it, saying something like: Dear Kate, good luck in the future and of course, she would have to do the honours of slicing it. Then, Chef would present a card for her, signed by the whole team. Both clichéd and touching statements about her time there, as well as more wishes for the future would be written in it. At that point, Monsieur Oswald would talk about how lovely and talented Kate was, how long they have worked together for, and how much of an impact she had made to that place until the present day. The Director would follow and filibuster for a short while too. Then, Kate would smile and thank them both. She could even shed a tear perhaps. She would then be asked to make a speech as well, which she had already composed, a few days previously, in her own time.
First of all, Happy New Year everyone. May this decade be fiery and subversive, for we shall never stop dreaming. At this point, I would like to say that working here has been a great chapter in my career and I shall thank all of you. I am going to start from the ones that haven’t been so keen on cooperating, as they have helped me learn how to lead a team of diverse individuals. Then, I would like to thank the ones who have supported me all the way through and together, we did make the difference. I am very pleased to say that amongst them I have made a few good friends too. Finally, credits go to Monsieur Oswald, for the biggest part of the chef I am today is because of him mentoring me throughout the years. I am sure that we all know that this hasn’t been an easy task, as I can be a handful sometimes. Despite our differences, I hope that I have made him proud and continue to do so in the future. I wish you all the best. Peace.
Loving embraces and kisses would naturally take place and some commemorative photos might be taken as well. By then, it would be time for everyone to get back to business. Monsieur Oswald would call Kate to his office in order to give her a bottle of champagne, to finish her off in bubbles, as well as her reference letter, and a cooking book too perhaps. She would then go to get changed and pack up. The sight of her empty locker would be somehow emotional. She would make her way out and at the same time, hug her favourite colleagues. They would then go for a drink with Monsieur Oswald, she would preach to him for a while, because he would let her. It would all be over by 6pm, where she would arrive home, drunk as a lord, and pass out on her bed.
The more she fantasised about it, the more she couldn’t wait for it to happen, no matter how terrified she felt at the same time. She knew that it was mainly the fear for the unknown that made her feel that way. Correction; it was the fear of not being able to support herself after leaving her normal, permanent, and respectable profession, for she knew very well what it was that she would like to do once she had set herself free. She was going to start by sleeping a lot- at least eight hours per day, she was going to stretch, and have gluten free and vegan pancakes with kombucha for breakfast. During the day, she was going to listen to podcasts and records, watch the news, read and write in her own time in cafes while drinking matcha lattes, and go out for strolls looking about for viburnums and pansies. From then on, she was going to reply to people talking to her, with a grin on her face and was going to protest and be as radical as she liked.
For the time being though, she was still on the train, building castles in the sand. The landscape seemed more rural now. Tall structures were taking over the terrain, an obvious sign that they were closer to city premises. As the train reduced its speed, Kate’s fellow passengers were buttoning their coats, making phone calls, and so on. Kate was looking out of the window, it was dark and she noticed that when squinting, she could see into the flats that had the lights turned on. She found that observation to be both creepy and interesting and for a short while, she speculated about how those tall buildings were like concrete cages. She thought of the people living(or being trapped) in them and how they must had all sorts of ambitions and dreams. Her line of thoughts got quickly interrupted by the female voice that came through the speakers. They all listened to the lady carefully: she said that they were about to reach their final destination and all passengers should take care of their belongings, as well as get their tickets ready. Everyone followed her instructions and a couple of minutes later, they were getting off the train and moving towards the ticket barriers; creating a human stampede. Kate followed a girl who was carrying a big suitcase and went through right after her. She secretly thanked the girl and made her way into the city.
Creative Fox. 