Mattie’s Diner

Chapter Twenty-Two

Salzy walked in just as Jamie pulled the three apple pies out of the oven. Jamie had to send Minnie to the store to get more apples and butter.

“I got the primer coat all finished,” Salzy leaned on the stainless-steel table across from Jamie. “I did yours first, so they’d have time to dry.”

“Thanks.” Jamie smiled weakly. “I may have to crawl up them when this day is over.”

“Things have been crazy. Some of those people were parking on the sidewalk along the road there were so many cars,” Salzy said as he drank a glass of water.

“Really?” Jamie, himself, took a long drink of water. “I’d not given any thought at all to the outside.”

“I have.” Joesph walked up just then. “Do you have a moment to come see what I came up with?”

“Sure.” Jamie wiped his hands on his apron.

“Can I see?” Salzy asked. “I’d like to see what you’re going to do with the diner, too. I heard Dexter saying something about it.”

“Of course, darling.” Joesph didn’t seem to be taking Jamie’s “hands off” words to heart.

“First things first.” Joesph held up a large colored sketch of the outside of the diner.

“Wow,” was the only thing Jamie could say.

“Did you draw that?” Salzy asked, amazement clear in his voice and on his face.

“Of course!” Joesph’s free hand flew to his chest. “I’m a professional!”

“You’re good.” Salzy leaned forward. “Really talented.”

“Thank you, sweetness.”

“My first thought is how much? I mean, I love this, but it looks really expensive.”

Joesph rested a hand on Jamie’s arm. “I called one of my sources in Atlanta who does this type of neon signage, and it isn’t exactly cheap, but I think doable, and you can never skimp on signage, Jamie. It really is the first impression that your customers will see.”

“You make a good point.” Jamie looked at Joesph. “But it will depend on the bottom line.”

“Of course.” Joesph put the drawing away in his portfolio case. “I should have a quote next week.” He turned to Salzy. “I heard you say that you have the primer coat completed?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you gotten the final color purchased?”

Jamie narrowed his eyes at Joesph. “What are you thinking?”

“If you’re going to paint, you might as well start with the finished color, right?”

“And what color would that be?” Jamie had his hands on his hips, his eyebrows pinched together. “I never said I was going to paint the whole building.”

“Of course you are.” Joesph smiled brightly. “I know you, Jamie Throneaux, and I know you never do things half-assed. With you, it’s all or nothing.”

Jamie scowled. “There are times I wonder why I even like you.”

“You love me, darling. You truly do.” Joesph blew him a kiss and laughed.

Salzy cracked up. “You should see your face,” he laughed more pointing at Jamie. “It’s priceless.”

He turned on Salzy. “Shut the hell up.”

“Now,” Joesph said, pushing Jamie away. “Run along. Go... bake something. I have business to discuss with Sal.”

Jamie arched an eyebrow suspiciously.

“It’s business. Really,” Joesph mimed innocence, his head tilted slightly.

“It’d better be.” He looked at Salzy. “Watch this one,” he indicated Joesph. “He can charm the skin off a snake.”

* * * * *

Everyone in the kitchen had busted their asses to get ready for dinner, having all the prep work they’d done that morning depleted during lunch. They were tired, and it showed.

Jamie watched Florence open the front door, the little sign flipped over to show open, people were waiting in their cars. Some of the first customers were old man Hanson and his great-granddaughter.

“Good evening, Florence,” Mr. Hanson greeted the redhead. “Glad to see you’re just as beautiful as I remembered.”

“Harold, you ol’ goat,” Florence laughed. “You know you shouldn’t flatter a woman without plans to follow through.”

Jamie smiled as he wiped the service window, watching and hearing everything.

“Who said I wasn’t?” Harold laughed. “You remember my great-granddaughter, Terry, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” Florence smiled and nodded to the young woman. “You sure do take after your grandmother. She is still one of the great beauties of the county.”

Terry laughed. “Funnily enough, she says the same about you.”

Florence blushed. “Tell her I said hello, won’t you. I hope that we can catch up soon.”

“I’ll make sure to tell her,” Terry said, then looked at her great-grandfather. “Let’s set you down.”

“Yes, yes.” Mr. Hanson, with the aid of a cane, walked over to the first empty table. “What’s the special?” He asked Florence as soon as he’d sat down. “I hope it’s still catfish Friday.”

“It sure is.” Florence pulled out the small green pad from the pocket of her apron. “It’s catfish, hush puppies, and coleslaw. And then fresh apple pie.”

“I’ll have that,” Harold looked up, his blue eyes watery with old age. “I’d like a bourbon first.”

“Grandpaw, you know they don’t have liquor here, and you’re not supposed to have any anyway.”

“Never hurts to ask.” He looked up, “I’ll have iced tea then, please.”

“And for you, Terry?”

“I’ll have the catfish too, and also iced tea, extra lemon if it’s not too much trouble?”

“Not at all.” Florence wrote down the order. “And I’ll tell you now that Jamie’s apple pie is the best I’ve ever had.”

“I’ll take your word for it. I hope all that comes with biscuits?” Harold asked, folding his hands on the table.

“Yes, it sure does, and corn bread.”

“Excellent.”

“I’ve heard rumours that Jamie’s biscuits are even better than Ms. Mattie’s?”

Florence looked skyward. “I’m sorry Ms. Mattie, but they’re right. Your grandson makes better biscuits.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Harold said. Florence noticing that there was a slight tremor in the old man’s hands.

“It’s true, Harold. You’ll see.” Florence bent over and kissed Harold’s cheek. “Let me go and get your orders in.”

Harold held his hand to where Florence had kissed him, a dreamy look on his face.

Florence clipped the small green ticket on the order wheel. “Order in.”

Walter called it out, and Timmy and then Dexter repeated what the order was for their respective station.

Florence came into the kitchen. “Jamie, Mr. Hanson is here with Terry.” She got a breadbasket and started to place biscuits and corn bread into it. She looked over towards her new boss. “I thought you might like to say hello. I don’t even know how old he is now. Got to be in his nineties.”

Jamie smiled. “He’s got to be. He was old even when I was a kid.”

Salzy’s face froze. His hands stopped peeling potatoes. “Terry’s here?”

Florence stopped herself from pushing into the dining room and looked at Salzy. “Oh, I see now.” She smiled broadly at him.

“I’ll go and say hello.” Jamie took off the apron and wiped his hands on a towel. “I don’t know that I’ve ever met Terry.”

“Oh man,” Salzy moaned as he looked down at himself. He was a mess.

Jamie laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll be able to see her first thing in the morning when you go and get paint.”

Salzy smiled. “Okay. Cool. Just tell her I said hello.”

“Hey, Salzy, could you wrap up that dough and put it in the walk-in for me?”

“Yes sir, Sir.” Salzy saluted.

“Oh brother.” Jamie shook his head before pushing through the swinging door.

By the time Jamie went into the dining room, the place was almost full, and the parking lot looked packed.

I need to take a closer look at that. He greeted Mr. Hanson and his great-granddaughter.

There were others in the dining room who wanted to say hello to him, too.

It was a good thirty minutes before he got back to the kitchen.

“What took you so long?” Salzy asked as he covered the large bowl of peeled potatoes in plastic wrap.

“He’s Mister Popularity,” Hazel answered, standing at the bread station. “Everyone wants to see him.”

“I don’t know about all that, now.” Jamie looked at the sheet of paper that he’d taped down on his workbench. Only one more thing to do on his list for the night.

“Hey, Jamie,” Florence called from the drinks area. “You gonna have a fan club special?” She laughed.

Jamie rolled his eyes.

“Order in,” Minnie called out.

Jamie had just finished washing all the strawberries when Florence came up to him. “Mike just walked in.” She turned towards Walter. “He’s having to wait for a seat. The place is full. It’ll be at least twenty minutes before a table opens up.”

Jamie looked around the kitchen. “Salzy, grab that deuce back there and give it a quick clean.” He looked at Florence. “Go ask him if he’d like a chef’s table.”

“What’s a deuce?” Salzy asked, looking at the back wall of the kitchen where Jamie had pointed.

“That two top table pushed up against the wall.”

“What’s a chef’s table?” Florence asked.

Jamie shook his head. “See if he’d like to eat back here in the kitchen.”

“What? Are you crazy?” Florence put her hands on her hips. “Who’d want to eat in the kitchen?”

“Believe it or not, in the restaurant I work in... worked in, in Atlanta, people would pay a lot more if they could be in the kitchen where all the action is.”

“You’re kidding.” Florence looked gobsmacked. “You’re serious?”

“I am.” Jamie had taken off his apron that he’d worked in all day and pulled on a fresh, stain-free one. “Now go on,” he shooed the waitress away.

Salzy had pulled the table away from the wall and was cleaning it. Jamie went into the office and pulled out the better of the two chairs.

“Hey, Walter, you got room for me to grill up a steak? Salzy, put on a fresh cook shirt.”

“Sure.” Walter pushed aside some towels he’d stacked up next to him. “Just a steak?”

“Yeah.” Jamie looked out the service window to the dining room. “Dexter, you got that baked potato in the warmer?”

“Yes, boss.”

“Green beans at the ready?”

“Yes, boss.”

Jamie looked up as Florence escorted Mike into the kitchen, frowning as she did so. “Are you sure you want to eat in here?” She asked the big man.

“Yes.” He looked around, his eyes taking in everything. “I’m looking forward to it. I didn’t know this was an option.”

“Hello, Mike.” Jamie walked over to greet his guest, hand out. “Glad you could make it.”

“This is an unexpected treat.” Mike took Jamie’s hand, dwarfing it in size. “I’ve not done a chef’s table in a very long time.”

“Where was the last time?” Jamie thought that Mike may have held onto his hand a second or two longer than usual.

“Alure,” he answered, but watching Walter as he answered.

“In New York City?” Jamie was stunned. The Alure was one of the best restaurants in the country. It has two Michelin Stars, and Jamie could only dream of working in such a kitchen.

“Yes, that would be the one.” Mike grinned. “It was really an experience.”

“Wow.” Jamie blinked. “Maybe I shouldn’t have offered you a table back here then. We’re nothing even close to that.”

Mike chuckled. “I wouldn’t expect it to be.” He looked around. “I am looking forward to what you’ve cooked up for me.” He smiled brightly.

I could get lost in those dark blue eyes. His smile is... sexy.

“Flo, could you get his drink order and then I’ll take care of the rest.”

She shook her head. “Would you like iced tea, Mike?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’ve got you right over here,” Jamie said, showing him the table. He’d managed to get silverware and a napkin on the table before Mike came in.

Mike sat down and laid a book on the table, over where another person would have sat. “Thanks.”

Jamie had prepped a small salad earlier. He dressed it in a bowl with a robust extra-virgin olive oil. After a few tosses, he added a tarragon-infused vinegar that he’d made up in advance. He put it all on a plate, added some kalamata olives, fresh tomatoes, and shaved shallots.

“Here’s a small salad to get you started. I’ll bring you some bread in a second.”

Jamie opened the bottom drawer of the bread warmer, a drawer that was never used, and got out the sourdough bread he’d made after making biscuits that morning. He delivered it to Mike. “Enjoy.”

He darted over to the grill. The steak he’d coated in crushed peppercorns was sitting out, next to the small lava rock grill that was rarely, if ever, used.

I can’t wait to replace this antique. He gave it a good sear, marking the meat.

Once he was satisfied, he turned it into a small skillet, with plenty of butter, having let it brown.

Jamie picked up the bundle of herbs that had been on the same plate as the raw steak and basted the steak.

“Plate, please?” he asked Walter.

“Here,” Walter said, handing over the plate from the salamander. “Hot.”

With a towel, Jamie took the plate and set it in front of him. There was a pan behind him on the cold food counter with everything he needed for the sauce. He noticed that, as busy as he was, Walter kept an eye on him.

After a few seconds, Jamie started the traditional peppercorn sauce. The dish was simplistic in reality, and Jamie did his own take on the French classic.

“Hey, Salzy,” Jamie called out.

“Yes, boss,” Salzy smiled at him.

Jamie couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “Can you go and check and see if Mike is done with his salad, please? If so, take the plate away?”

“I’m on it.”

“Oh, and get a new set of silverware and a steak knife. It’s all set out on that shelf next to my bench.”

“Tyrant.”

When he was satisfied with his sauce, he glanced over his shoulder. Salzy had removed the plate, gotten the new flatware in place and had even refilled the iced tea and water.

“Here we go,” Jamie said as he placed the plate in front of Mike, using a clean kitchen towel. “The plate is hot.”

Mike looked down. “Steak au poivre?”

Jamie was surprised. “Uh... yeah. I hope that’s alright?”

Mike nodded and picked up the knife and fork. “I like this dish.” He looked at Jamie with a smile. “It’s another favourite.”

“Enjoy.” Jamie stepped away and went back to his bench after getting the bowl of strawberries out of the walk-in. He watched Mike, who was chewing slowly with his eyes closed.

Hot damn! He likes it.