Page 21 of Perfect Pairing
“He’s…” Ella started, pushing her sleeves up to her elbows, revealing her forearms, which held more tattoos than the last time I saw her. There was a blue butterfly right below the crook of her left arm and a random scrawl of words across her right that I couldn’t read from across the room.
She trailed off, once again looking at Chloe and Delia.
“He’s what?” I asked, tone laced with annoyance. This beating around the bush was really starting to irk me. I hated being left out of the loop. It happened all too frequently, and though we were close in age, it didn’t negate my insecurities over being the baby and the odd man out.
Delia closed her eyes and sighed then popped them open and leveled that whiskey gaze on me. Mischief glinted in their depths, and I already had a bad feeling about where this was headed. “You’ll see.”
The realization struck me then.
I’d never told them, and Mom and Dad must not have either.
My sisters had no idea I’d already met the infamous Chef Ezra Wendt.
And honestly? That was for the best.
By the time we were seated at dinner, my skin hummed with anticipation. I couldn’t wait to see what all the fuss for this man was about. Was he the second coming of Gordon Ramsay or something? The next Bobby Flay?
I knew filling Roscoe’s shoes would be difficult but, according to Dad, Ezra Wendt had more than stepped up to the plate. He made a mean turkey club, but anyone could put together a sandwich. I guess I didn’t know him well enough to be falling at his feet like the rest of my family.
I only wanted to know him in…other ways.
And it was those sorts of thoughts that would get me in trouble.
The moment the appetizer round appeared at the table and I popped one of his stuffed mushrooms into my mouth, I was intrigued—okay, more than intrigued. It was different than I expected, somehow light despite the heavier flavor of the mushroom, complexly layered in a way that made it difficult for me to tease each ingredient of the filling out.
Cheese, obviously. Pecorino, if I had to guess, and I was rarely wrong. An interesting choice, given most people would’ve used Parmesan, but one I thoroughly appreciated. Bacon bits, sun-dried tomatoes, parsley, and…
I held the half-eaten mushroom in front of my face, squinting at it.
“Are there…pine nuts in here?” I asked my dad.
Dad let out a hearty laugh and clapped his hands together. “I’ve been trying to guess that formonths,” he explained. “I can’t wait to brag to Ez that my brilliant pastry chef daughter figured it out on the first try.”
I preened under Dad’s praise. This man may have made himself into some sort of legend around here, especially with my family, but I knew my stuff.
The main course was a religious experience. The moment the first bite of chicken ramen—a special seasonal offering Dad and Ezra had apparently decided to test out for the holidays—hit my taste buds, I moaned around my chopsticks.
Okay…this guy was good. Better than good, actually. I’d never been to Asia but had eaten at enough authentic Asian restaurants in my life to know the difference between someone who knew how to handle the ingredients and someone who didn’t.
Ezra Wendt fell into the former category.
Every bite was packed with flavor. The chicken was breaded and baked to perfection, juicy and expertly seasoned. The noodles were soft and hearty, the broth so heavenly, I wanted to swim in it. He’d also included a perfectly soft-boiled, teriyaki-marinated egg, shoots of baby bok choy, thinly sliced cabbage, and thick strips of brown sugar bacon. The entire production was a masterpiece, and I damn near cried when I slurped down the final spoonful of broth.
“My god,” I breathed as I set my chopsticks down and leaned back in my chair. “Thatwas…”
“Just wait until you try his grilled cheese,” Dad said. “Absolutely life changing. The best I’ve ever had. Cal and I come here for lunch all the time just for that.”
Cal, also known as Calvin Ryder, was our Chief Financial Officer and my dad’s right-hand man. He’d come to work for us about two years ago and had quickly made himself indispensable.
“I haven’t had ramen that good since I lived in New York.”
“Sissy, we gotta get you to Asia to try the real thing,” Amara, the world-traveler of the family, said.
“Just say the word and I’m there, Mar,” I told her with a wink.
“We should all go!” Chloe chimed in.
“Road trip!” Delia shouted, emulating Margot, Elle Woods’ blonde friend inLegally Blonde.
