Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 104141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“Okay.” I said, as I entered.
“Are you ready for the big day?”
“I am. I think we’re going to give the Claws a good time.”
“So good that the Fangs will want a party too.”
I blinked. “No. . .”
He chuckled.
“They better not.”
He shrugged and set the dish with the green sauce by the stove. “By the way, Reo gave me a note an hour ago.”
“Oh really?”
He pointed to the other side of the kitchen. “It’s on the counter over there. I thought you should read it for yourself.”
I walked over and didn’t even have to pick it up to see the message.
Heart,
Macaroni and cheese.
Please and thank you.
If you oblige, I will cut out my soul and hand it to you.
Your loyal and devoted Roar.
“Hmmm.” I shook my head. “I wonder if Reo wants some cheese.”
Chef Bunzō stirred the sauce. “It will forever be a mystery.”
I chuckled. “Alright. Let’s make sure we take care of the Roar. He’s offering his soul and I would love to hold another soul.”
“One can never have too many souls in this life.” Chef Bunzō signaled to one of his assistants I hadn’t seen. She had a short red bob and green glasses. “Aya, help the Tiger. Get what she needs. Follow any instruction given.”
“Yes, chef.” Aya rushed over.
“Let’s see.” I thought of my grandmother’s recipe and how I had played with it over time. Additionally, I couldn’t give him what I’d made for Kenji because the Dragon was petty and possessive.
Aya pulled out a small notepad and pen.
“Alright.” I tapped my finger lightly against the counter, thinking through it like a strategy instead of a recipe. “We’re going to do four cheeses.”
“Okay.”
“First, Gruyère. That’s the backbone.”
She wrote that down.
“It melts like silk. And I want a lot so that when Reo lifts the fork, it stretches like it’s refusing to let go.”
Chef Bunzō gave a soft hum of approval without looking up.
Miles Davis’s trumpet slid low through the air as if agreeing with me too.
Behind me, the compact man with the tattooed forearms had finished his reduction. He was tasting it now — one small spoon, eyes closed, completely still. Like a man in prayer.
The herb woman hadn't stopped moving once.
I looked back at Aya. “Second will of course be sharp cheddar.”
Nodding, Aya scribbled that.
“This is the bite, and the part that will make him stop chewing for a second because it will hit the back of his tongue and demand attention.” I held up my finger and recited what my grandmother would always say to me. “Grate it. Fine. I don’t want clumps. It’s supposed to melt into everything else.”
“Got it.”
“Third, fontina.”
“Interesting.” Chef Bunzō looked up at me.
“Is it too much?”
“Oh no. The Roar loves indulgence.”
“Good because. . .I want him to feel hugged from the inside.”
Some of the sous chefs chuckled near their stations.
Chef Bunzō returned to his work. “I’ll have to steal this idea from you. Adding the fontina will definitely make it decadent and keep the dish from being dry.”
The bass line of Kind of Blue rolled in steady, while the trumpet danced over it.
“Last, Parmigiano-Reggiano.”
Chef Bunzō nodded again. “Excellent.”
Aya wrote that down. “Will that go in the sauce?”
“Exactly.” I bobbed my head. “We can put some on the top too to give it a crust that cracks just slightly when the fork goes through it.”
“By the end of this dish, Reo will be your Roar.” Chef Bunzō winked.
I smiled.
This dude is funny.
It was nice to be around someone who was thoroughly enjoying their day and excited. It was the perfect escape I needed out of the grief of Hiroko’s loss.
“I’ll get everything and start working on it.” Aya headed off to the pantry. “I should have samples in a few hours.”
“Perfect.”
Miles’s trumpet climbed higher now, stretching, aching, chasing something just out of reach.
I exhaled softly and went over to my notebook of ideas that Hiro and I had gone over days ago. “Okay, chef. Catch me up.”
"The oxtail stock is reducing. I wanted you to taste three different preparations."
“Three? Wow. I’m excited.”
He gestured to three heavy pots on another counter. Each one held braised oxtails.
I picked up a fork and touched one. The tender meat fell right from the bone. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
Reo ate those burnt oxtails. When he tries these, he’ll really understand how they were supposed to taste.
I tried the first and tasted—soy, mirin, and ginger. “This is nice.”
The second was bolder—a miso base with black garlic and yuzu. “Mmmm.”
The third was mine with the soul food Bourbon base. “Wow. My grandmother would curse you all out for mimicking her style down to the exact flavoring.”
A few of them laughed.
Bunzō smirked. “So the third?”
“Must go for the third.”
“Good. Everyone else agreed.” He set the spoon down. "The bartender and staff will be in the kitchen later to test out your signature drinks.”