Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Ethan drilling into a hole is something
I need to see more of in my life.
~ Zayne
“ BONJOUR !” CHLOé CALLED out as she walked through JULIEN Saturday morning, then headed through to the kitchens and locker area.
It was just turning eleven, and after the last few days off, it was time for her to get back in the groove of things. Now that she’d finally moved and settled in her new place, she was ready to hit the ground running.
She stored her bag and quickly tied her hair up out of her face before starting her rounds. Since she was on opening duty today, she had a list of things to get through before her dad and père would show up for service later.
A lot of people were under the impression that being the executive chef of the restaurant meant that you showed up an hour before opening, went straight to the kitchen, and started cooking. But that was not the case if you were on opening shift.
She had to make sure everyone who needed to be there was. Did the dishwasher show up? The line chefs, the sous chef? Then she needed to make sure there weren’t any last-minute changes needed on the menu, and that the bar was fully stocked.
Once that was all checked and under control, she’d make sure food was prepped, the meat was seasoned, and all the vegetable and poultry was washed. Her job was all about lists, checks, and balances, and when she was happy, she moved on to the next part of her day—problem solving.
It didn’t matter how many days, months, or years they’d all been working here—no day at a restaurant was ever the same.
No day ever went smoothly, either.
“Chloé… Oh thank God.” Kayla, her sous chef, wiped her hands on her apron and rushed over.
“Uh oh. That sounds ominous.”
“Yeah.” Kayla grimaced. “The poultry order is running late.”
“How late?”
“Won’t be here until afternoon/evening.”
“ Merde . That is not good.”
“I know.”
Chloé rubbed at her forehead, already thinking of what to do next. “How much do we have on hand?”
“Enough for maybe…half a service?”
“And the rest won’t get here until we’re mid-service at least? That won’t work.”
“Agreed.”
“Right. So let’s see what we have that we can substitute for it.
” Chloé pulled open the fridge and walked inside, scanning the shelves.
“Hmm, okay. Let’s do this. We’ve got beautiful filet mignons back here, and I know we have black truffles.
So why don’t we take off Père ’s duck and replace it with beef tournedos Rossini? ”
Yes, that would work. The dish was always a favorite with the toasted sourdough and sautéed foie gras. Add in the Madeira sauce and it would be golden. That was one crisis averted, but there was still another main and appetizer to replace.
“We have fresh sole, right?”
“Yes, it came in early this morning.”
“Okay, let’s add sole meunière to the mains. It’s simple but classic, and always looks impressive too.”
“You got it. And the app?”
Chloé looked over the shelves in the fridge and landed on the shellfish. “Go with a creamy seafood bisque. We’ve got plenty of shellfish and cognac, and who doesn’t love a good bisque?”
“Perfect. We’ll get that all going.”
“Everything else is good?”
“Everything else is great.”
“Right, well, if you need me, I’ll be in the office cussing out our deliveryman.”
Kayla shook her head. “Better him than me.”
Chloé sighed and headed back to her dad’s office, where she took a seat and switched on the computer.
It might seem strange to some, but this was the kind of thing she loved about her job, because when unexpected things happened, you had to think on your feet.
You had to be flexible and a problem solver, and there was something so fun about that, the unexpectedness of it all.
The phone call to a longtime supplier who’d let them down, however? Not so fun. But it was all part of the job, and she wouldn’t trade it for the world.
IT WAS AN hour before opening, and Chloé was back in the kitchen. Prep work was all but complete, and the menu was taking shape, and by her calculations, her dad and père should be there at any—
“Good afternoon, everyone.”
“Bonsoir.”
—minute.
Her fathers made their way through the kitchens with smiles as bright as the day outside as they greeted their staff like they were family instead of workers—and that was another reason she loved what she did.
This place, JULIEN, was an extended family to her.
It had been since the moment her père first brought her to the kitchen and introduced her as his newest sous chef, age four.
Most of the staff had been there long enough that they’d watched her grow over the years, and she knew they would be years from now.
That was the kind of atmosphere her fathers had created both here and overseas.
JULIEN was a job no one ever wanted to leave.
“ Mon ange .” Père winked as they stopped by her station. “How are you doing today?”
Her dad hugged her into his side and added, “Have you settled into your place? Or are you still getting used to your new men?”
“I settled in just fine. I’m not sure they’ve settled into having me there yet. I have lots of…things they’re not used to.”
Dad waved a hand in the air. “Oh, I totally get it. A princess moving in with princes must allow them an adjustment period for all the glitz and glam. Remember that and you’ll be just fine.” He batted his lashes at her père . “I was.”
“Noted.”
Père chuckled. “Other than that , how has your morning been?”
“Busy. Oh my gosh. Let me show you.” Kayla stepped in to finish off tying the last few strings around the filets as Chloé led her fathers out of the kitchen and toward the office. “I had to give Pauly a call about a missing delivery.”
A frown pulled at her père ’s brow. “Oh? That’s unlike him. Was there a problem, or…”
“He was a little strange about the whole thing, actually, but he took it in stride. They were running late. He apologized and said they’d have our usual order here tomorrow—early.”
Père looked at her dad, and they both nodded.
“That’s very good,” Dad said as he took a seat and opened the ordering forms on the computer. “And I see you updated everything and the pricing.”
Chloé narrowed her eyes. “Of course I did. I’ve been dealing with the vendors for a couple years now, Dad. I promise, I didn’t mess up your system.”
“Oh, I know.” He grinned at her. “No need to be defensive. I was complimenting you.”
“That’s right.” Père wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. “I assume you updated the menu?”
Chloé pulled back from him, disbelief on her face. “Seriously? What’s with all this double-checking all of a sudden?”
“Not double-checking. I would ask the same of anyone. I need to know what I’m cooking tonight.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Then maybe just ask that. Do you really think I’d let JULIEN open three meals down? Without changing the menu out front?”
“ Non, but—”
“There’s no but, just non . I would never embarrass you that way. I added beef tournedos Rossini, sole meunière, and a seafood bisque.” She wasn’t sure why, but the impressed look on her père ’s face only fueled her annoyance.
Here she’d been feeling all sentimental earlier in the day, and in a matter of minutes the two of them had stomped all over her—apparently— fragile ego.
Did they think she was incapable of looking after this place? Well, not about to stick around and find out, she decided the best thing she could do was leave before she got her feelings hurt even more.
“If that’s all,” she said, angling her chin high. But before she could make her exit, a hand clamped on to her arm, halting her.
“It’s not, actually.”
She turned back to see a different kind of expression on her fathers’ faces now, ones full of…pride. Confused, she was about to ask what the hell was going on when her père took both her hands in his and said, “It’s time.”
Uh, what? “I don’t understand. Time for what?”
Père ’s smile widened, a mischievous light twinkling in his jade eyes. “It’s time for your test, mon ange . Your evaluation.”
“My evaluation?” In all her years working for her fathers, she’d never had to pass any kind of evaluation. What was he talking about?
“That’s right.” Her dad beamed at her from behind his computer like she should be pleased with what they were telling her. “We wanted to test you a little bit today, and you passed with flying colors.”
“Test me?”
“Yes, we had Pauly miss his delivery on purpose.”
Chloé’s jaw hit the floor as she thought back to some of the things she’d said to the man. “Why? Why would you do that?”
“Because we wanted to see how you would handle it,” her dad said.
“And you did beautifully, bichette .”
“Are you kidding me? I was horrible to Pauly, and now you’re telling me he was…was in on it?”
“I’m sure you weren’t horrible ,” Dad said. “Even when you’re mad, you’re really very sweet.”
Chloé blinked, trying to wrap her head around all of this. “But…but why? Aren’t you happy with what I’ve been doing here?”
“Of course.” Père chuckled. “This was just a little test to see if you were ready for more, and you are . It’s time for your evaluation from your peers.”
“I…” Still have no idea what’s going on.
“We’d like you to create your own menu for JULIEN. One that can be showcased and one that I can present you to the culinary world with.”
Wait… “What?”
“Your dad, papa, and me agree that it’s time for you to spread your wings and be recognized for the wonderful chef you have become. The way to do that is to show off your skill to fellow chefs and critics. So, what do you say, mon ange ?”
For once in her life, Chloé had no idea what to say. But as her père and dad’s faces began to blur, the shock turned to happiness and then—sheer, unadulterated panic.
“Are you sure? I don’t think that I’m—”
“Ready? Capable?” Dad stood from his chair. “Weren’t you just the one telling us you knew what you were doing?”
“Yes, but—”
“And that you’d never embarrass us?”
“I didn’t mean—”