Chapter 6
LAILA
Poseidon's restaurant looked entirely different when it was closed, though the warm light coming through one of the windows was still inviting.
I smoothed down my dress, trying not to think about the fact that this wasn't a date, but I'd dressed as if it was. Though I had packed a pair of pumps in my handbag, because if Poseidon was serious about me cooking, I didn't want to do it in heels.
I didn't even get to the front of the restaurant when the door swung open, revealing the god within. Poseidon wasn't wearing his chef whites, but a crisp white shirt with an open neck and his sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms that I was sure could probably lift me if he wanted to.
"Hi," I said.
"Hello," he responded. "You look beautiful."
"Thank you." I reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. This wasn't a date, even if it felt like one. There was no reason for me to be nervous.
"Would you like to come inside?" he asked.
"It would be hard to cook from out here," I responded.
Poseidon chuckled. "It would, but the kitchen is all prepared, as per your instructions."
"I'm impressed, I expected that it would be a your kitchen, your rules situation."
He shrugged and showed me inside. "You're not my employee."
I'd been in a lot of professional kitchens over the years, both as a low-level employee during my student years, and since to interview chefs and other catering professionals about their work.
But this was something else. Everything gleamed, with state-of-the-art equipment that was all cleaned to perfection.
"I think I might be scared to get his place dirty," I admitted.
Poseidon laughed. "I can assure you that it's fine."
"So, you really invited me here to cook for you?" I asked.
"Yes. Though I will, of course, cook for you too."
"Well, I'm looking forward to trying it." I set my bag down on the bench of what I assumed was the chef's table. It was set for two, with several bottles of wine. "I hope you don't think we're drinking all of those."
He laughed. "Absolutely not. But I didn't know which wine you'd want to pair with the fish you're making, so I got a selection."
"How many favours did you have to call in from Dionysus for them?"
"He was happy to part with it when he learned that someone had critiqued my fish."
I raised an eyebrow, leaning against the back of the bench. "You told him that?"
"He read your review and asked me about it," he responded. "And by asking me about it, he asked if I was feeling hurt."
"I hope not. My intention wasn't to hurt your feelings.
It was simply to communicate how I felt about the food.
Other people might not have thought anything about your Indian fish dish.
" It was a hard line to walk. I stood by what I'd said about his food, but I also didn't purposefully want to hurt his feelings.
Poseidon started unloading a box of ingredients onto the side. "Do you know why I asked you what you would cook?"
"To check if I knew what I was talking about or if I was just making things up to sound self-important?"
He laughed. "No, but I guess I could ask for that reason next time. Will this fish be right for your fish fry?"
I made my way over to where he was standing and looked at the fish. Even without knowing where it had come from, I could tell that it was good quality. "Lemon sole?" I guessed.
"Yes. You said that was one of the types of fish you liked for this, and it looked better than the halibut."
"It's a good choice." I returned to my bag and pulled out a couple of spice pots, taking them over to the counter and setting them down.
Poseidon raised an eyebrow. "You know I have spices here, right?"
"Yes, but you don't have my spice blend. This garam masala mix has been a family tradition since my great-grandmother." I took the lid off and let him smell it.
"Oh, that's good," he said. "Much better than what I've got."
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not about to let you in on any Mandal family secrets."
He chuckled. "I wouldn't expect you to reveal any. So, do you want to cook first, or be cooked for first?"
"Cook first," I said. "Otherwise, you have an unfair advantage."
"I'm not entirely certain that I see how, but please, be my guest." He picked up an apron and held it out to me.
I took it from him, my fingers brushing against his as I did and sending a pleasant tingle through me. It was going to be difficult to focus on anything if that kept happening.
I cleared my throat. "Would you put some rice on?" I asked.
"Already done," he responded. "I wanted some for my dish, and figured you might for yours."
"I'm almost disappointed you're not planning on making me fried stuffed olives," I said as I switched my heels for my flats and tied up my hair.
It was strange to be doing things like this in a situation that was verging on a date, even though I knew it wasn't. But it also felt fairly natural around Poseidon, which was unexpected.
"I considered it," he said. "But they're more of a snack to have after drinking."
"So, the kind of thing to do after doing a wine tasting at Dionysus' vineyard?" I asked.
"Yes. And if that's something you want to do, then it can be arranged."
"Maybe let's see how tonight goes first." I washed my hands and made my way over to the counter where he was waiting.
I grabbed a bowl and mixed some garam masala, chilli powder, turmeric, ginger, garlic, and salt together, adding a squeeze of lemon and mixing it so that it turned into a paste.
After a quick test to make sure that it tasted the way I wanted it to, I coated both pieces of the lemon sole with it and set them aside so they could marinate.
It wouldn't take long, but it would be enough to make sure it tasted delicious.
"Do you need any help prepping for your dish?" I asked Poseidon.
He raised an eyebrow. "You're almost done?"
"It's marinating," I responded. "So?"
"I've got shrimp to prep. But I want the shells for a quick broth."
I nodded and went to join him in peeling them, keeping an eye on my timer so that I didn't over-marinate my fish.
"I'm surprised you closed the restaurant for the evening," I said as I tore the head off one of the shrimp and threw it into his stock pot.
He chuckled. "I can't cook every night," he said.
"You're cooking now," I pointed out.
"Cooking with someone who enjoys food as much as I do is different from cooking for hungry guests."
"Maybe I'll be worse than all of the hungry guests put together," I teased.
"Somehow I doubt that." He washed his hands and moved the bowl of peeled and deveined shrimp to the side to focus on the stock.
A beeping came from my timer, and I turned my attention back to my fish.
I was pleasantly surprised to find that he'd included some ghee in the ingredients he'd prepped.
I'd been tempted to bring some of the clarified butter from my fridge, but that had felt a little excessive, especially when I'd already brought the garam masala and the curry leaf powder.
I added some to a heavy-bottomed pan and waited patiently for it to heat up.
I was glad no one was asking me for instructions on it, because I couldn't tell anyone the exact amount of time it took for the butter to be ready, it was just instinct from having made this dish under the watchful eyes of my mother for years.
A satisfying sizzle filled the air as I put the two fillets into the pan, and I tried to ignore the intense way that Poseidon was watching me so that I could focus on what I was doing. I could safely say that I'd never cooked for someone who had been doing this professionally for so long.
I flipped the fish and sprinkled over some of the curry leaves, taking in the satisfying scent of spices as they filled the air. This was one of the most satisfying parts of the cook, and I loved it.
"Can I have a couple of plates?" I asked.
He nodded, and a couple appeared immediately.
I plated some onion, and then slid the two fillets of fish out of the pan, placing them on the plate.
Was it particularly artistic? Probably not, especially compared to the food that Poseidon was regularly serving his guests, but I still thought it looked good.
He plated some of the rice and headed over to the table, setting it in the middle.
I followed him over, a little nervous when I put his plate down in front of him.
Maybe I should have thought this through better and come up with a plating that would impress him, but I knew that was unreasonable of me.
I had to accept that what I'd done was good enough.
"It smells amazing," Poseidon said.
"Thank you."
"And I think this wine would be a good choice." He picked up one of the whites.
"I can't say that I know anything about Greek wine," I admitted.
"The whites tend to be zesty, it's perfect with a fish like sole."
I nodded, hoping that he wasn't going to regret the choice when he tasted the bolder flavours of the spices I'd used. I didn't think so, but I'd been late to discovering wine, so while I could appreciate a good one, I didn't know a huge amount about it.
"Yiamas," he said, raising his glass.
I do the same, touching mine to his. "Y...mas," I repeated slowly.
"That was good," he responded.
"What does it mean?"
"It's shortened from stin iyia mas, which is to our health. We use it instead of cheers. What do you say in India?"
"We don't really have a saying," I responded. "It's a Western custom, so we normally just say cheers when we want to, especially in households that speak a lot of English."
"Ah."
"So yiamas is nice." I smiled at him and took a sip of my wine. "That's really good."
"It is," he agreed as he set down his glass and picked up his knife and fork.
I watched nervously as his fish flaked. Even without tasting my own. I could tell that it was perfectly cooked, which was reassuring. The last thing I wanted was to make a fool out of myself in front of him.
I ate some of my own fish, relieved when the taste explosion on my tongue reassured me that I'd made it well. The spices complemented one another well, with an earthiness brought about by some of them, finished off with a nice zing from the lemon.
"This is excellent," Poseidon said.
"Thank you."
"And it is better than the dish I made for India."
"What you made was technically fine," I responded. "And if I hadn't grown up eating Indian food, I'd probably never have thought about it."
"But you did, so you questioned it. I should have thought about that before serving it."
I shrugged. "I'm yet to meet a chef who hasn't made a mistake at some point."
"I don't want to make mistakes." A hint of frustration came through his words, but I didn't feel like I wasn't safe with him. Far from it. Poseidon might have had anger issues in the past, but I believed him when he said that he'd worked on them, it was clear whenever he spoke to me.
"Everyone needs time to grow," I pointed out. "Even gods who have been alive for thousands of years."
"If you'd told me that thousands of years ago, I might have had a reason to threaten to smite you."
"Could you even do that?" I took my last bite of fish, a little sad that I was done, but at least that meant I'd be able to eat Poseidon's dish soon.
"No. Smiting isn't in anyone's power. Though I could do it the old-fashioned way with a good old hit on the head."
I snorted. "I could do that."
"Exactly." He pushed his plate away from him. "That was good food. I'm not sure how I'm going to match that."
I rolled my eyes. "You're a chef with hundreds of years of experience, at least. So yes, you'll be able to match it. And I'm intrigued to see how."
"Course two is coming up," he said. "Though I hate to say it, but dessert will be something from the restaurant's fridge."
"Will it be good?"
"Do you like orange pie?" he asked as he cleared away the plates and headed back to the station.
"I don't think I've ever had it."
"Then you're in for a treat. I don't make it myself, but my pastry chef is Greek and he makes excellent orange pie."
"I look forward to everything else we're going to eat tonight," I said. And I meant it. I was especially intrigued by what he was planning on making me, but I was excited to find out.