Page 27 of Unrelenting
My pastry chef has been working on a new dessert menu for the last two weeks.
Since Stefan’s skills go beyond describing how a wine tastes, he offered to help. He can detect even the subtlest hints of flavor.
The two men, who’re comically dissimilar to one another in height, build and hair coloring, are at the stove.
While Stefan is short and skinny, Nicolo looks like he should be working security somewhere with his imposing stature.
Stefan has striking blond hair, an inheritance from his Norwegian father and Nicolo sports a jet black faux hawk.
They’re bickering like an old married couple over whether Madagascan vanilla beans are better than Ecuadorian.
When they realize I’ve entered the room, they look to me to break the deadlock.
Unfortunately, my palate isn’t that refined. I can season steak to perfection and tell if a sauce needs more acidity, but when it comes to determining whether one type of vanilla is better than another, I’m lost.
“Don’t look at me.” I throw my hands up in mock surrender. “I don’t have a horse in this race.”
“But, Lucia, it’s important.” For a man of his stature, Nicolo can be seriously whiny when he wants to be. “We need perfection, especially now.”
I frown, not understanding the urgency in his voice. “Why especially now?”
“Didn’t you see the construction crew next door?”
“Yes.” They were hard to miss. My heart sinks. “It’s not a restaurant, is it?”
Although Gianetta’s is fully booked almost every night, we are facing increasing competition. If another restaurant opens right next door, it could hit us hard.
“It’s not just a restaurant,” Stefan says. “It’s Marco Agostini’s new restaurant.”
“Oh, fuck!” I can’t contain my shock. Marco Agostini isn’t just a chef, he’s a rockstar. The currentenfant terribleof the culinary world is famous for his innovative creations. Every restaurant he’s ever worked at has gained Michelin stars. “Are you sure?”
Stefan nods. “Remember Gianfranco, who built the new shelves in the pantry?”
“Yes.” It would be hard to forget the curmudgeonly old asshole who cursed us to high heaven the entire time he was working here.
Thankfully, his workmanship was impeccable because I don’t know how he’d have dealt with any complaints I raised.
“Well, he’s one of the carpenters. He told me someone’s pouring a lot of money into the place, looking to make it the hottest restaurant in Tuscany. They’ve hired a designer from New York to create something we’ve never seen before.”
Well, there goes my good mood. I head to the prep section and place a chopping board on the worktop. I grab some onions from the box under the counter and start chopping aggressively before I realize Nicolo and Stefan have followed me across the room.
“What will we do, Lucia?” Nicolo asks.
“We lean into our heritage, I guess. Gianetta’s is all about tradition. We make our food a counterpoint to Marco’s sous-vide scallops and edamame emulsions.” Or whatever it is he cooks. I’ve never eaten at one of his restaurants.
“Does that mean I can’t create my new desserts?” Nicolo asks.
“No. You do whatever fancy thing you want. We’ll keep the main menu as it’s always been. Ribolita. Bistecca alla Fiorentina. Tuscan Bean Stew. All those classic dishes. But we’ll surprise people with dessert.”
Nicolo puts an arm around my shoulder and squeezes. “Thanks, Lucia. I’ll make you proud.”
I pat the back of his hand where it rests on my shoulder. “I know you will, Nicolo.” I turn to my sommelier, thinking about what Lorenzo told me about handing over some responsibility. “And Stefan, we need to update the wine list. I want you to get out there and find some new producers.”
Stefan looks surprised. “You trust me with that?”
“You know more about wine than I do.”
His chest puffs up with pride, and I realize I should have asked him to do this long ago.
