by Sable Sylvan
“Lauren, would you mind helping me with the rest of my dishes?” asked Basil.
“Of course not, the sooner we get that nonsense out of the kitchen, the better,” said Lauren with a huff.
“I know, right?” said Cayenne. “It’s not even food.”
“And this isn’t even tea,” said Basil. “It looks like a fruit salad.”
“Hey now, insulting my peach tea is going too far, Basil,” said Cayenne. “Get to pouring.”
Basil picked up the electric kettle of hot water. There was power outside, and a power strip had a set of six hot water kettles set up. Lauren and Cayenne had filled them with water, heated them, and poured them into the plastic keg as Cayenne had stirred the tea and added copious amounts of sugar to the tea.
“Hot tea, in this weather?” asked Basil, pouring the water.
“I didn’t ask for sass,” said Cayenne. “And you really aren’t from the South, are you? Sweet tea is a Southern tradition, just like cola and peanuts.”
“Cola and peanuts? Wait. Never mind. Forget I asked,” said Basil. “I’ve had iced tea before, Long Island Iced Tea, iced tea with a wedge of lemon, but with sugar?”
“Ain’t nothing more refreshing in the summer than a glass of iced tea,” said Cayenne. “Peach iced tea is my favorite flavor. After all, I do go to college in Georgia. That’s why I have all the stuff in there. There’s peach flavoring in the tea, but the other bits of fruit make the peach taste more pronounced. It sounds weird, but I’ve perfected my recipe and when you try this, it’ll taste like you’re biting into a real peach.”
“So why not just cold-brew the tea?” asked Basil.
“You have to add the sugar when it’s hot,” said Cayenne. “It’s simple chemistry. When the tea is hot, it steams, right?”
“Right,” said Basil.
“Steam is a change in form of matter,” said Cayenne. “The molecules move further apart or whatever. Changes in forms of matter are often, maybe usually, temperature related. So, the hotter the tea, the further apart the molecules are…making more room for the sugar. Simply put, hot water can absorb more sugar than cold water. When you cool it down, the tea is ‘super saturated’ with the sugar.”
“Whoa, you really know your stuff,” said Basil. “You a chemistry minor?”
“In fact, I am,” said Cayenne with a smile. “But even if I weren’t, I’d probably still learn that. I just really frikkin’ love sweet tea.”
Basil and Cayenne finished adding sugar and water to the tea, with Cayenne steadily mixing the tea as Basil added the water. It was almost hard to believe that Basil was her rival…but as the rest of the staff brought out his dishes, she remembered. He was a stuck-up rich boy who thought he knew everything about everything when he didn’t even frikkin’ know about how to brew a proper glass of sweet tea!
As the sun started to set, the rest of the clan rolled in and headed upstairs to change into fresh clothes before coming out to sample the food. Cayenne and Basil watched over the food and made small talk until everyone was gathered.
“All right, the rules are simple,” said Herb.
“Whoever made the best food gets to choose the restaurant’s cuisine,” said Alice. “Cayenne made us some good old-fashioned Quincy barbecue, and Basil made…sorry, what was it, dear?”
“Molecular cuisine,” said Basil.
“I might be part chemist, but I know that’s full bullshizz,” Cayenne whispered to Addison.
“Basil’s food is up first,” said Alice.
Basil served everyone one of each of his dishes. It was a good thing Cayenne had made barbecue because these portions were not Texas sized.
“On the menu is a spherification of the ‘Secret Sauce,’ along with a foam made of the ‘No Bullshizz Sauce’ on steak tri-tips, and transparent pasta made using agar-agar, a type of seaweed. The pasta contains the ‘Awesome Sauce,’” said Basil. “Try it with mineral water as a palate cleanser.”
Cayenne looked at the food. It looked frikkin’ weird, but she had to be a good sport and try it. She tried the spherification first. It was like drinking the Taiwanese bubble tea she’d had in Dallas and Atlanta, but the spheres were filled with jalapeño hot sauce rather than strawberry jelly. They certainly were not filling. Next was the foam and steak. The steak she approved of, but what was the point of making the hot sauce into a foam? The transparent pasta wasn’t filling, made of thin papery seaweed gelatin, but at least the hot sauce had been paired with ground beef.
Nobody took that long to eat Basil’s food. The other Quincy Sisters seemed to like it more than the Scoville Brothers.
Next up was Cayenne.
“Serve yourself,” said Cayenne. “This is a mess. Up first, there’s some pulled pork made with the adobo chipotle ‘No Bullshizz’ sauce. There are the classic Quincy jalapeño poppers made with the ‘Secret Sauce’, not a surprising dish for anyone but a classic. Finally, I made a lasagna with the ‘Awesome Sauce’ used in the tomato sauce. It’s not barbecue, but it’s a standard at cook-outs around these parts because it’s practically a casserole. There’s peach sweet tea as well. Eat up!”
Cayenne served herself ample portions of her filling food and her peach tea which she mixed with lemonade.
“All right, everyone, cast your votes,” said Alice and Herb. They passed around a bucket and some notecards and pens, and in a few minutes, they had their result.
“Who won?” asked Savina.
“I don’t think anyone saw this coming,” said Herb.
“Wait, what?” asked Cayenne.
“Yeah, what?” said Basil.
“Neither of you won,” said Alice.
“So, we tied?” asked Basil.
“No…as in, nobody voted for you two,” said Herb. “None of the cards have check marks at all.”
“Wait, what?” asked Cayenne, putting her hands on her hips. “I know we’re supposed to do this anonymously, but…what gives?”
“Cayenne, you were right,” said Abigail. “Your food is more filling, more ‘Texas’…”
“But it’s not good enough to compete with other restaurants,” said Clove. “We can’t compete with other steakhouses or with other cheaper barbecue joints.”
“We can just stop selling the sauce to other restaurants,” said Cayenne. “After all, isn’t the restaurant supposed to show off the sauces?”
“Seventy percent of our revenue is coming from restaurants,” said Herb. “Trust me. You can’t make those numbers selling sauce at the shop. Enterprise sales are the bulk of the business’s income. We can’t just stop selling the sauce to other restaurants for our pet project, our gamble.”
“That does make sense,” said Cayenne. “Shiz.”
“And Basil,” said Herb. “Your food isn’t at all ‘Texas’…”
“But it’s too out of the ordinary to do well here,” said Alice. “You gotta read the room, honey…and in this case, the town.”
“Cayenne, I love your food, but it’s nothing that I would care much about if I wasn’t your sister,” said Savina. “Sorry, but that’s the honest truth.”
“I have to agree with Savina,” said Mace. “I liked it, but I like a lot of food. There’s nothing about this that I love.”
“Okay, and you, Addison?” asked Cayenne.
“I love you too much to lie to you,” said Addison. “I like your food, but it’s just missing…something.”
“And Basil, I don’t know what you learned in Brazil, but here’s a lesson: don’t make this again,” said Sage. “Sorry, kid, but that’s a no from me.”
“So, nobody liked our food,” said Cayenne. “Shiz.”
“Do another cook-off next week,” said Savina.
“I don’t want another cook-off,” said Cayenne. “I want a restaurant, Alice.”
“And I don’t want a restaurant that’s going to be anything but spectacular,” said Alice. “I’m sorry, Cayenne, but I can’t approve this cuisine. Maybe you and Basil should be spending more t
ime working together and less time apart.”
“Ugh, fine,” said Cayenne. “But I don’t understand how we can make this and that work together.” She motioned to her food and then Basil’s.
“So, come up with something new,” said Alice. “Speaking of which, Abigail, Addison…wedding dress shopping, this Sunday, Dallas?”
“Uh, yes!” said Abigail with a squeal.
Alice, Abigail, Addison, and even Savina talked about wedding stuff, but Cayenne was just stuck thinking about how the heck she would be able to beat Basil next week…but maybe Alice was right. Maybe she was going about this the wrong way. Maybe the key to beating Basil was working with Basil. There was only one way to find out.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The restaurant was at a standstill. Without approval from Alice and Herb, there was nothing they could do with the restaurant. They had bought some cheap furniture from a local big box store so they’d have tables and chairs and some couches. After all, they had to brainstorm, and they couldn’t very well just stand around in an empty restaurant and come up with ideas.
During the week, Cayenne and Basil worked separately. Cayenne would work in the kitchen during the mornings, while Basil worked on his laptop, looking at furniture he thought would look good in the restaurant. Cayenne had her sleeves rolled up and was cooking up a storm, cooking classical Texan cuisine ranging from barbecue to burgers and Tex-Mex. All the Quincy and Scoville siblings would come over to have a big lunch together and go over what had happened that day. Lunches acted as a daily business meeting. Then, Cayenne and Basil swapped places. At night, Basil experimented in the kitchen, making dishes for Cayenne to try, but she hadn’t liked any of them. Cayenne sat at the table doing market research. Basil cooked dinner for everyone, and then they all headed back to the house. Usually, staff would have cooked all the meals, but they had their hands full. Five times the people in the house meant five times the cleaning. Cooking up grub beat cleaning toilets or doing laundry.
That was their routine…at least, until Friday.
On Friday afternoon, after cleaning up the dining room, Cayenne was still cooking.
“Hey,” said Basil. “Can I help you with something?”
“Ugh, if you insist,” said Cayenne. “Wash the round platter I served the gelatin desserts on, and get me some small paper cups, the ones with wax inside, and a box of the fancy toothpicks, the colorful ones with the plastic at the tip.”
Cayenne kept cooking up the tri-tip steak on the stove, and once it was done, she let it sit for a second while she set up the paper cups on the tray. She then cut the steak into small bite-sized pieces, stuck each of them with a different toothpick, and added them to the cups. Then, she added hot sauce to each cup.
“What are you doing?” asked Basil.
“Making samples,” said Cayenne. “I know the people of this town, and I know they want good old fashioned beef, not…what was it you made last night?”
“Gyudon, a Japanese rice bowl with beef and onions,” said Basil.
“Yeah, well, tri-tip is better,” said Cayenne.
“What’s the deal with the toothpicks?” asked Basil. “Why the fancy ones?”
“They look more appealing, and they’re color coded,” explained Cayenne. “See? The ones that are green are for the jalapeño sauce, the red ones are for the roasted habanero sauce, and the brown ones are for the adobo chipotle sauce.”
“That’s smart,” said Basil.
Cayenne went back to the stove and started to clean up, but Basil put his hand on her arm.
Cayenne looked up at Basil. He hadn’t touched her in a long time, and each time he did, it sent a tingle down her spine.
“What?” asked Cayenne.
“I’ll clean up,” said Basil. “You go out there and hustle. It’s supposed to be chilly tonight. I know this is Texas, but…”
“You’re right,” admitted Cayenne. “We heard that on the radio on the way in. I’ll make it fast. Smell this. The tri-tip sells itself.” Cayenne went over to the coat rack but didn’t put on her hoodie. She put on an apron, black, reading ‘The Feminine Mesquite’ in white, with one of the colored dragons from the hot sauce bottles on the front. The aprons had been made to promote the new adobo chipotle sauce, and Cayenne and Basil had been borrowing them from the hot sauce shop.
Basil got the doors for Cayenne who stepped out onto the Main Street of Fallowedirt, Texas with a platter full of tri-tip and a heart full of dreams. She’d show everyone she was right. She had been right last week, and she’d be right tonight. Her sister was right. She’d wasted her time with the cook-off. It was supposed to be market search, but the sample size was altogether too small. She’d let the people vote, as they had at the fair, except this time, they’d be casting their ballots in the form of empty paper cups and toothpicks that had been licked clean of delicious hot sauce.
Cayenne looked down the street. Fallowedirt was plain, but like anything, it was gorgeous by the light of the afternoon summer sun. A group of people was walking down Main Street and window shopping. They’d be into her sauce!
…But the people passed by her, without a word, even as she hawked the sauce like an expert saleswoman.
The wind started to blow as the sun fell in the sky, and the tri trip on the platter was getting cold. She had only managed to get a few people to try the tri-tip, and none had gone into the store to buy any sauce or told her that this was the most delicious tri-tip they’d ever tried. Cayenne went back inside and microwaved the little cups on a microwave safe plate before replating them on the platter and heading back out.
It was night time, but there were people out and about in Fallowedirt…none of whom wanted to try her sauce.
The wind was still blowing gently, but the temperature had taken quite a drop. It was usually in the sixties or seventies on a June night in Fallowedirt, but that night, it was in the low fifties.
Cayenne turned as she heard a noise. She thought it was a potential customer, but no, it was just frikkin’ Basil.
Basil had his sleeves rolled up and was holding her hoodie.
“Hey, put this on,” said Basil, walking toward Cayenne. He didn’t toss the jacket to her because she was holding the tray of meat.
“I’m fine,” said Cayenne coldly…literally coldly, as a shiver went down her spine.
“I can hear your teeth chattering from back in the kitchen,” said Basil. “Just put on the hoodie.”
“I’m fine,” said Cayenne. “Shouldn’t you be working on dinner?”
“The pizzas are in the oven,” said Basil.
“How did you manage to ruin pizza?” asked Cayenne.
“It’s hard to mess up pepperoni and five-cheese pizza,” said Basil. “You’ll come in for dinner, right?”
“Just save me a slice or two,” said Cayenne. “I’m busy, Basil.”
“Fine, suit yourself, Kai,” said Basil, walking back into the restaurant.
Cayenne stayed outside, and the temperature dropped a few more degrees, slowly but steadily. The streets of Fallowedirt weren’t empty. There was a bar across the street that was full of people that were watching a sports game. Cayenne started watching what they were watching on screen, some golf tourney, and started to zone out. She felt herself almost drop the tray, so she shook herself awake.
The lights outside of The Feminine Mesquite went off, and Alice and Herb and Sav and Mace came out the front door.
“Kai, what in tarnation are you doing?” asked Alice, putting a hand on her hip.
“Passing out samples,” said Cayenne. “Let me guess. You’re here for dinner. Quincy-Scoville party of nine?”
“Party of nine?” asked Herb. “You’re not saying that you’re gonna stay out here during dinner.”
“It’s fine. Basil promised to save me a slice,” said Cayenne. “I just need to finish up here. Okay?”
“If you insist,” said Savina. “But Kai, take my hoodie.”
“I’m fine,” said Cayenne
. “I’m not cold.”
“Yeah, and I’m not polar,” sassed Mace.
“Mace, manners,” said Herb curtly.
“Well, we’d love for you to join us,” said Alice, staying behind as the rest of the group walked into the restaurant so she could have a moment with her second youngest sister. “But…you do what you think is best. Just, don’t make the mistake I made, Kai.”
“What mistake?” asked Cayenne.
“Don’t let pride get in the way of what’s important,” said Alice. “Okay?”
“I don’t know if that’s a promise I can make,” admitted Cayenne.
“I’m not asking for a promise,” said Alice. “I’m asking you to try.”
“I can try,” admitted Cayenne. “You better get a slice before the Scovilles eat us out of house and home.”
“Says the girl standing outside with a platter of cold tri-tip?” said Alice, a hand on her hip. “Don’t catch a death of cold, or Grandma Barbara will tan my hide.”
“Of course,” said Cayenne. “I’ll be in shortly. Don’t worry.”
Alice went inside and turned on the outside lights so that Cayenne wasn’t in the dark.
The streets of Fallowedirt were still pretty empty. The only thing that was brightly lit were the bars, especially the sports bar. Cayenne went back to watching the game and started to feel sleepy…too sleepy.
She didn’t want to go inside and fall asleep at the table. All she needed to do was shut her eyes for a second.
Cayenne sat down on the wooden bench outside of the restaurant and shut her eyes for a few seconds. A few seconds became a few minutes, and a few minutes became fifteen minutes.
Cayenne was so deep in sleep she didn’t hear the sports bar doors open and hear the people spilling out, angry about the loss of the local favorite golfer. This was Texas, after all, and it wasn’t football season, but they still took their sports seriously.