Page 1 of Defended By the Lumberjack
Chapter One
July
I'm nervous. But I got through Thanksgiving fine, so the Christmas season can't be any worse, right?
Right?
"Chef!" One of the crew yells for me from the back of the kitchen, pulling my attention off the dining room where my nerves have had me anchored. Wiping my hands down my smock, I head back.
Kitchen stuff, I can handle.
"No, no, no....here. Put that back in the walk-in. Oh em gee, Patrick, why?"
It's not a cooking show. It's an actual kitchen. Filled with actual assistants and prep cooks, line cooks, a sous chef, and one lead chef whose name is on the line.
Me.
"But we need it for the main course." Patrick pouts. Patrick is too old to pout and, according to his resume, he's also too experienced to have already pulled the spinach out.
"But we don't need it for another half an hour. Please-- just...please."
I wave him and his greens off the prep surface and put Perry on the station.
It's fine. It's fine. It's...fine. I chant in my inside-my-head voice and get back to the tasks that only I can handle.
Savor is my dream, and I am ridiculously young to have already achieved it. Which is only one of a million reasons I'm convinced it's going to crumble out from underneath me at any minute.
The upscale restaurant at the Moonshine Ridge Ski Resort opened three years ago under the same name, but with a different chef. I got the job as sous chef last year, after my stint in Italy apprenticing under the world's worst boss.
Again. Not "mean makes good TV" bad boss-- an actual jerk. And not the least bit hot.
I almost quit three times during that apprenticeship, it was so bad. But I really want this.
Having to fight tooth and nail for my pride as well as my self-esteem for those six months was the reason I took the job here when I was ready to face the process of applying for jobs.
Moonshine Ridge is so tiny. Savor is located in the local ski resort, with is also tiny, owned and operated by a local couple. Eddy and Pepper Jones wanted to bring upscale dining to the area, but without the pomp and circumstance that accompanies high profile areas catering to high profile clientele.
I researched the community, the restaurant, and the job description and jumped on the offer when it came in.
It was the perfect place to get the hands-on experience I'd need to rebuild my confidence in my abilities in a low-key setting.
Then our chef quit. He walked out three months ago on barely two weeks' notice to take a job at some new place in the Florida Keys. Said he couldn't take another season in this "nothing" town where we go days sometimes with no business because the road up the mountain gets closed when the weather is really bad.
But it did mean that the lead chef position got thrust into my lap early in my career, and right before our busy season at the resort.
For Thanksgiving, we did a buffet dinner with all the usuals. It was busy-- really busy-- but still mostly locals. The runs had only been fully open for a few days before the holiday, with our first good snow coming late this year.
Now we're in the Christmas season. Winter on the mountain has been busy making up for its late show and the resort is bustling.
I'm tasked with managing the kitchen staff, keeping lists of supplies and ingredients that have to ordered or fetched up from the larger town of Slow River in the valley, creating new menus, experimenting with new ideas, and accommodating the large parties coming up to hold their annual holiday and end-of-year office parties at the only place in town that's really big enough to hold them.
Like the Murdock brothers' timber company is tonight. All three of the Murdock brothers, three silver foxes that are as surly as they are handsome, their office staff, field supervisors, crew leaders-- pretty much everyone who's on the company's permanent payroll-- and their significant others.
There must be thirty people in the private banquet room and, of course, the Murdocks were not going to go for a prix fixe menu.
My eyes scan the dining room beyond the safety of the kitchen where I'm queen and can handle any conflict. Out there though...my shoulders sag along with my confidence as I watch the tables fill.
My tenure as lead chef of Savor is on a trial basis. If I can't step up, they'll start looking for a new chef.
