Appetizer

by Blane Thomas

  “Y… yes, he is!” Ryan interjected. He could not bear for Theo and Anais to assume that an assistant chef had cooked their meals for the night. “He is the fourth, and newest chef de partie to join Trainyard!”

  Corey’s eyes widened at Ryan’s blatant lie. But the entreating look from his executive chef compelled Corey to go on with the fabricated story.

  “If that is all, I will take my leave then,” Keith said towards the trio. Without another word, he returned to the kitchen, leaving Corey to be judged by the three pairs of eyes.

  “You look awfully young,” Theo smiled widely, revealing the neatest arrangement of teeth. He rested his angular face on a hand and gazed at Corey appreciatively. “How old are you, Corey?”

  “Twenty-two, sir.” Corey looked down on the floor. He could not bring himself to gaze upon Theo’s handsome features.

  Theo Devereux was a well-known celebrity chef in Chicago. He had been showcased in a few cooking shows for large television networks. He was even a guest judge in a popular reality TV cooking competition which was in its seventh season. It was no secret that Theo was gay, and, he lived with his partner in North Garland, where the rich and famous perched.

  “Twenty-two, and to be able to conjure up such an atmospheric five-course meal, splendid!” Theo clapped.

  Anais hiccoughed appreciatively too. “You are going places, boy! Ryan, if I were you, I’d keep him chained to Trainyard. He will make you famous!”

  Ryan smiled widely. “Oh, don’t worry. I plan to teach Corey everything I know. And in time, I hope he will be one of the top chefs in Chicago, just like you, Theo!”

  Theo let out a comfortable, deep laugh. “With his looks and naivety, he will skyrocket further than I can ever go! When I was twenty-two, I was a complete idiot!”

  Corey watched all this with awe. Two of the most renowned food critics were speaking well of him. It was more than he dared hope for. This was a stepping stone to greater things. He was a young chef, and he had just been praised by Theo Devereux and Anais Heart. Yesterday, one of his former classmates from culinary school had complained that a customer had thrown a plate of hot soup at him because there had been a strand of hair in it. Corey could not help but feel grateful.

  He just did not understand why Keith had relinquished all the praises. Did he feel guilty?

  Theo got up to shake Corey’s hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Corey. We hope to dine here more frequently in the future. Perhaps you will be kind enough to take us on one of your more dazzling journeys again?”

  “It… it will be my pleasure, sir!” Corey gushed. He winced slightly as Theo’s hand crushed his.

  Theo was unaware of his strength and let his hand linger on Corey’s longer than a handshake necessitated. Corey was taken aback when Theo gave him a seductive wink when Ryan and Anais were not looking.

  Even Anais got up to kiss him on the cheeks three times, though she had to be helped to walk to the entrance with her hand wrapped around Theo’s narrow waistline.

  Bidding them goodbye, Corey returned to the kitchen to see Keith standing there, dressed in his casual wear. He was reaching for the backdoor when Corey called out his name.

  “Why did you do it?” Corey asked. “Why did you tell them that the five-course meal was my idea?”

  Hand wrapped around the doorknob, Keith turned around. Though messy, his hair still maintained its playful, wild curls. If he did not have such a gaunt face and surly expression, Keith would have easily gained attention from both men and women. But years of not smiling had cemented his face with rather sullen lines. He looked at Corey, his lips curled in amusement.

  “You wanted credit, so I am giving it to you.” He turned the doorknob.

  “No, you were hoping that they would still heap praised upon you. But see, my face is the one they gravitated to! You are obnoxious, Keith.”

  “If that makes you happy, then so be it.”

  He half stepped out of the kitchen when Corey finally asked the question that had been plaguing him for hours.

  “Why did you kiss me, then? Was that just another one of your sick ways to get me to do your bidding?”

  This time Keith stopped and turned around to face Corey. “I thought that you were different at first When you came up with the idea for the main course, for the first time in a long time, I thought I had found a comrade-in-arms – someone who shared my vision.”

  “But I did.”

  “And you ruined it all by your flagrant desire to be recognized. It wasn’t the meal that was important to you, but fame, recognition, praise. You wanted to be put on a pedestal.”

  “Is that so bad?” Corey stepped forward. “I too am human! Don’t I deserve to be told that I did a great job?”

  “Your praise comes in the form of knowing that the meal was brought forth from nothingness – that your carved it out of the ether of your imagination. That’s all the recognition an artist needs,” Keith said. He sighed. “I had thought, prematurely of course, that you shared this ethos.”

  “No one thinks like that,” Corey defended himself.

  “No, obviously not,” Keith agreed. “So, if it is praise you want, praise you will get. Aren’t you happy?”

  Corey did not feel happy anymore. He was overcome with shame and anger. Even after relinquishing the praise meant for him upon Corey, Keith still managed to get the upper hand. Without waiting for a reply, he left the kitchen, leaving Corey alone with digest these thoughts.

  Chapter 8

  “So, Keith decided to give you all the credit?” Ryan leaned backward in his chair. Head rested comfortably, he stared up at the ceiling. A glass of whisky already half-finished, laid nestled in his hands. He absent-mindedly swayed the glass, letting ice bathe against the amber liquid.

  Corey nodded. He had just finished reiterating the story to Ryan. The executive chef had only nodded, pouting his lips interestedly at the story.

  “Am I in trouble?” Corey asked meekly.

  “What?” Ryan smiled amusedly. “No, Corey. Far from it!”

  “But, I did not plan the whole five-course meal, chef. Keith did. But Theo and Anais don’t know that. Isn’t that a lie?”

  Ryan put the glass on the table and let out a laugh. “Such a naïve boy! That’s what I like about you, Corey! You are so innocent!”

  “C… chef?”

  Ryan’s tired eyes narrowed. He ran a hand along his silvery-white hair and leaned back again. The shrewd smile decorated his already lined face, as though holding onto a juicy secret. It made Corey slightly comfortable, being gazed upon by Ryan’s appraising eyes.

  After a few seconds, Ryan spoke. “Do you know what makes a successful chef, Corey?”

  “Hard work, chef? Dedication? Talent?” Corey rattled off cliched answers forming in his mind.

  Ryan waved his hands impatiently, as though chasing away flies in front of him. “That all work, but you misunderstand, boy. I said successful, not proficient.”

  “Isn’t that the same, chef?”

  Ryan shook his head and gave out a snicker. He took another sip of his whisky, exhaling sharply as the liquid burned his throat.

  Corey’s innocent eyes gazed at the senior chef. Though Ryan was the executive chef and owner of Trainyard, he was a kind mentor. Often, he would guide Corey through his work when Gus and Lalitha were too busy to babysit. There was a proud smile plastered on his face, not unlike an impressed father’s when Corey did something right in the kitchen. He had grown to like Ryan, though Corey knew he did not want to be anything like Ryan. It was Keith he aspired to be.

  “If proficiency was the true mark of success, our dear Keith would be deemed successful,” Ryan let out a small laugh. “And he is far from successful!”

  “But isn’t his work good, chef?” Corey asked curiously.

  “Keith is a proficient chef, but he will never be a successful chef in Chicago,” Ryan announced confidently.

  It was the way Ryan said it that made Corey uneasy.
This was not a mere prediction uttered by the executive chef. Ryan’s tone seemed to imply that he did not want Keith to succeed. The senior chef saw the discomfort on Corey’s face. He gave an even wider smile.

  “A chef’s success, Corey, is not measured from their skill. Oh no! What matters to a chef’s success is their popularity,” Ryan said quietly. “You can be the best damn chef in the whole world, Corey, but if you do not have someone else to elevate you, then you’re just a person in the kitchen cooking. No one will know of your artistry. That is why it is important to make friends, connections with powerful people, Corey. Do you understand me?”

  “I think so, chef.”

  Ryan clapped his hands as he often did when he was trying to get a point across. “Reviewers, critics, celebrities, television producers, anybody who can elevate your popularity!”

  “But, I just want to be a good chef, though.” Corey tilted his head, confused. “Are these people important?”

  Ryan shook his head in mild disbelief. “Corey, my dear Corey, do you think Anais Heart came to Trainyard out of a mere whim? Of all the fine dining restaurants in Chicago, why did she suddenly decide to review my restaurant? Do you think it’s out of pure luck that we got her to come here?”

  “Isn’t that how it works?” Corey asked stupidly.

  “Of course not!” Ryan’s eyes bulged. He looked as though he was spilling the biggest secret in the whole world. Twice he looked behind him to see if the windows were locked, as if fearing someone would be eavesdropping. “Anais Heart writes for The Verve, a magazine funded by the Fippo Studios of Chicago. And Theo Devereux is a frequent guest judge on the reality tv cooking competition, ‘Is this delicious, Chef?, a show under Fippo Studios. Naturally, Theo and Anais know each other very well. And I know Theo extremely well, so he helped set up the meeting!”

  “So, it’s all who you know?” Corey asked.

  “It’s like the old adage isn’t it; ‘It’s who you know that matters’.” Ryan winked. “And of course, it wasn’t easy for Theo to convince Anais to write a review on Trainyard.”

  “I’m just afraid that Anais might not take too kindly to the fact when she knows that I did not plan the five-course meal by myself,” Corey confessed. “What if she writes a bad review of us?”

  “She won’t,” Ryan said confidently. “Anais Heart knows shit about cooking. You can serve her a burger from a fast food joint on a porcelain plate, with a fancy smearing of peas on the side and she’d still call it fine dining! She used to be a fairly decent critic on mid-tier restaurants, but with The Verve, she’s paid to write what other people MIGHT think of the restaurant. Tomorrow, when she sits down to write a review, it would be what Theo Devereux actually thinks.”

  Corey stared. He could not believe what he was hearing. Everything Keith had said about Anais was true. Anais Heart was not a connoisseur. All those years of him reading her column with its precise language and razor wit, he was extremely upset to realize that it was not her opinion she had been reading. He felt sick to his stomach.

  What was real anymore?

  “At least Anais will be writing of what Theo thinks of us! And he is a skilful chef!” Corey said. He tried to convince himself that there were standards left in the critique of fine dining.

  Ryan took another swig of his whisky. He was really enjoying himself now, ecstatic at having an attentive audience. He was like the kid at the campfire whose eyes gleamed wider as he regales a convincing horror story.

  “Ah, alas, if only that is simple. Theo Devereux is a great chef, that is true. Young too for his age. But, he does not critic restaurants just based on quality, Corey. He has…, how should I put this…, other criteria on what makes a good and bad restaurant.”

  “What other parameters are there to judge?” Corey asked openly. “Isn’t the quality of the dishes served the only important factor? Does he also look at the restaurant’s ambience, quality of service by the waiter, and the wine selections?”

  “If only it were that easy,” Ryan sighed. “The Trainyard has all that which you have mentioned, but for a year or two, Theo Devereux would not give us the time of day. He deemed us an unimportant two-star Michelin Restaurant.”

  “Then, what changed? Why did he suddenly pay us attention?” Corey asked.

  Here, Ryan stood up. His face was slightly ashamed. It was obvious, from the lowering of his gaze, that he was hiding an embarrassing secret. But, egged on by the whisky, Ryan spoke.

  “You, Corey,” he admitted.

  The answer puzzled Corey. He looked at his executive chef who was staring at the table.

  “Chef, I don’t understand,” Corey said.

  Ryan put his whisky on the table and looked up to the ceiling. The expression on his face was blatantly apologetic suddenly. With a sigh, he spoke.

  “Theo Devereux has an intense penchant for younger men in their early twenties, Corey,” Ryan said quietly. “Especially good-looking ones like you.”

  A sudden wave of nausea rose up Corey once again. It all started to make sense. Keith had not been wrong. It was not the food that was being judged here.

  “So, he only came here because…,” Corey could not finish his sentence.

  “Because I hired you. I had to send him your resume, and a few of your pictures cooking in the kitchen to get him interested,” Ryan confessed. He walked over to Corey and sat on the table nearest to him. “But, but, please don’t judge me, Corey. I needed to do it, to get Theo’s attention. And getting Theo’s attention would get Anais’!”

  “I don’t know what to say, chef,” Corey replied softly. “Does this mean he wants to…, wants to go out with me? Or does he expect me to sleep with him?”

  Ryan patted Corey on the shoulder. “Oh, god, no! It isn’t anything like that, Corey! You’ve been watching too much telenovelas! It’s just that, Theo is more partial towards establishments that have handsome chefs such as yourself! Gives him a reason to actually come here!”

  “But, this is a daunting revelation,” Corey replied. “What of the amazing restaurants that do not have handsome or beautiful chefs to soothe the heart of critics?”

  “They don’t see the light of day,” Ryan admitted, his voice steely. “Even if they do, they will not be elevated to the immense popularity they deserve. It is all about getting the right critics to write a piece about your restaurant in the most popular magazine. The Verve is read by the rich and famous. Whatever they write in the magazine might as well be passed off as social law, since the common person will follow it religiously!”

  They faced each other, the room suddenly turning quiet. Corey pondered upon this. He was no stranger to such stories, but to be in the epicentre of one? That was a first.

  “Are you mad, Corey?” Ryan asked. “I hope you don’t judge me too harshly for what I have done.”

  Surprising even himself, Corey shook his head. “Perhaps just a little uncomfortable, chef, but I understand why you did it.”

  “I did what I had to do, to elevate the Trainyard’s name, Corey. We were slipping slightly in our reviews. And lesser patrons were coming here. Trust me, I know that our food is fantastic, but the public does not know that. They’d more willingly trust a magazine than their own tongues to tell them what’s good and what’s not. And if we are to be in the critics’ good graces, the game has to be played, and played well!”

  “Keith does not agree,” Corey suddenly blurted out.

  The mention of his name sobered Ryan up at once. He slammed the table with his fist, annoyed.

  “Keith? Bah! He thinks himself above all this. ‘Create the dishes and the right patrons will come!’” he jeered. “That’s what Keith said when I first interviewed him. That boy, Keith, is a good chef, but he is detached from reality. He does not know how the world works! He thinks that putting amazing dishes out there is the reward.”

  Though Corey agreed with Keith, but knew it was better to remain quiet, especially when Ryan’s voice increasingly rose.

 
“And once, he even told me not to accept critics and reviewers!” Ryan laughed. “Such stupidity! It’s because of the reviewers and critics we have a steady stream of clients in the first place. And Keith tells me that he one day wants to open up his own restaurant, too!”

  He paced around the room uneasily, muttering. Corey watched his boss’ first, now grow increasingly agitated. To his immense surprise, Ryan suddenly turned and knelt in front of Corey, staring at him directly in the face. Ryan was quite drunk at this point, and the scent of alcohol in his breath was discernible.

  “Do you think him to be right, Corey?” Ryan pleaded.

  Corey was mildly alarmed at the older man’s tone. Though confidence often radiated from his smile, Ryan now looked like an aged toddler, his face crumpled in worry. It was as though the man needed to be soothed, to have his beliefs validated by another person.

  Terrified, Corey shook his head. “N… no, chef, he is wrong,” he lied.

  Ryan stared at Corey for a long time before giving out a sigh of relief. “Thank god.”

  Placated, Ryan stood up and walked over to his side of the desk and sat down. He poured himself another glass of whisky. “I like you a lot, Corey,” he said. “No, don’t worry, not in that way. I love women too much to suddenly go out with men!”

  He gave out an obnoxious laugh and downed the whisky in the single gulp. Corey listened on, unable to form the words. Just a minute ago, his boss was almost reduced to a bawling mess, but upon finding a comrade in Corey, he changed. He was now back to being his usual confident, brash self.

  “I think that you have the makings of a great chef!” Ryan prophesized dramatically, waving a hand to the air. “You work hard, but you also have a great respect for your seniors.”

  “I love working here, chef,” Corey confessed. A fresh surge rose within him – a desire to be known, to be acknowledged.

  Ryan nodded. “And I meant what I said earlier, in front of Anais and Theo. I will make you the fourth chef de partie. Though in seniority, you will still be below Gus, Lalitha and… Keith,” he said the last name with slight distaste.