Page 5 of The Broken Heart Playlist
“Yes.” He shifts uncomfortably. Something is clearly bothering him. “Uh, so are you, you know, going to build the burger using fake stuff?”
I hold back a sigh. Someone’s been watching too many YouTube videos. In my most neutral tone, I explain to Phil that I’ll use only the ingredients he has on hand, and I won’t addany ingredient to the burger that’s not already in it, because that would be false advertising.
“The techniques I employ are about trying to extend the shelf life of the burger so Joel can get his shot,” I tell him.
And yes, I’m also going to shamelessly manipulate the heck out of every ingredient in that burger so that the final product looks the very best version of itself.
He nods, seemingly appeased, but when I move to the sink to wash my hands, I overhear Phil ask Joel in a dubious voice, “You sure about her?”
“Kate’s really good,” Joel assures him while he sets up his lighting stand. “Not with people,” he adds apologetically, “but with food, she’s a maestro.”
I’m quietly touched at Joel’s willingness to vouch for me.
Phil, however, is still hovering indecisively. I swallow my impatience. Some clients need a little extra hand holding and it’s not fair I let Joel shoulder it all.
When I return to the prep table, I turn to Phil and look him straight in the eye. “When I’m finished styling your burger, Phil,” I say in my most beguiling tone, “not only will the camera love it, but every single person who drives by your billboard will think of nothing else except the fact that they have to taste this burger and they have to taste it now.”
Phil’s eyes widen and I know I have him. He won’t question my abilities again. He’ll sit silently on the sidelines and leave us to do our work.
I turn away dismissively, slip on my apron and disposable gloves, and put together a quick stand-in burger for Joel so he can use it to play with the lighting and get the angles right. He’s already started selecting lenses and creating a set, brow furrowed in concentration.
“I didn’t know you had it in you,” Joel murmurs with a grin when I hand him his stand-in. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
“Don’t get too excited,” I mutter. “That was a one-off.”
With Phil watching, Joel starts taking test shots for the light and I reflexively sink into my work headspace. I open a bag of buns and rifle through them, trying to find one with no creases or marks. When I eventually find one, I smooth the edges and use tweezers to rearrange the sesame seeds so there’s more of them in front. The whole bun gets sprayed with cooking spray.
I fry up five patties in a pan, cooking them just enough to brown the outside, but not enough to shrink them. They’re still raw inside, but that’s fine. No one’s eating this burger. After selecting the best-looking patty, I burn grill marks onto it with a hot skewer. I need a golden-brown edge on the sides, so I use a little shoe polish for a slightly charred look.
Joel is shooting the burger at eye level so everything will need to be moved to the front. Every single ingredient needs to be showcased so customers have a clear idea of what’s inside the burger.
I place the bun on a tray and position the beef patty so it hangs off the edge of the bun, giving the impression it fills up the entire bun. Next comes slices of bright yellow cheese, which I arrange over the patty to drape invitingly over the edge. I choose gleaming green pickles with a crinkle edge and pull them forward.
The lettuce has been soaking in cold water to keep it fresh. I pick out the smaller pieces, pat them dry, check for any dead spots, and fan them out onto the burger, making a ripple effect with the edges.
I slice up a vibrant-red tomato and a crisp red onion and build my layers. The tomato slice looks too flat, so I prop it forward slightly by inserting a makeup wedge beneath it. Then I pin all the ingredients in place. I take a step back to examine the burger. It’s too tall. I scoop out some of the filling in the top bun.That works. I grab my heat gun and melt the cheese in front so it looks as though the patty is receiving a warm, seductive hug.
Phil pushes up from his chair and moves to stand next to me, staring at the burger. His eyes are wide and a huge grin splits his face.
“Oh, man, that looks incredible!”
I don’t reply. I’m in the zone. Phil, however, doesn’t require a response; he’s too enamored with the creation in front of him.
“What about ketchup and mayo?” he asks.
“That’s next.”
I use a pipette to painstakingly position strategic dollops of ketchup and mayo onto the front of the burger, cleaning up any bleeds with a Q-tip.
Returning to Phil’s vantage point, I feel a rare moment of solidarity with him as we both stand there admiring the almost finished product. Joel wanders over and offers a nod of approval.
I pick up the tray and ever-so-carefully carry it to the set Joel’s created. He waits patiently, camera in hand, while I move the burger into position and apply the final touches. I use a syringe of water and glycerin to add tiny droplets to the tomato and lettuce, making them glisten. The glycerin helps the water to stick perfectly. I brush a little oil on top of the bun to make it shine.
Every little detail counts, especially when all those details are magnified on a billboard or poster. This burger has todazzle.
Like the expression right now on Phil’s face. He’s giving me a look of such teary-eyed gratitude I automatically take a step back, my shoulders stiffening.
If he hugs me, I might have to dislocate his shoulder.
