Can't Stand the Heat - Louisa Edwards [73]
By this point, Miranda knew better than to be offended. Around four forty-five every evening, as it got closer and closer to the moment when Market’s doors opened, Grant got ratcheted tighter and tighter in the flurry to get everything ready for the night’s service. And she supposed, as restaurant manager, it was understandable he’d be freaking a little right now about Adam’s summary firing of their extern.
In fact, that’s exactly what Grant was upset about. Miranda wandered closer to get a better listen—just because she was no longer writing the book, it didn’t mean her journalistic instincts were suddenly comatose.
“You couldn’t have waited until after tonight’s service?” Grant wanted to know. His voice was a tad shrill and Miranda saw Adam’s mouth twitch at the corners as if he were hiding a grin.
“Sorry, man, but no. He was bringing down the whole kitchen vibe with his attitude.”
Grant huffed.
“Fine, but you know this is going to cause problems. The ACA is going to want to send another extern, since we committed to a full semester, and who knows what barrel bottom they’ll be scraping this late in the game.”
“Worry about tomorrow when it happens,” Adam advised, nodding his head sagely. “We’ve got enough going on today.”
“Right, like who’s going to take over Rob’s station.”
“Already covered.” Adam pointed to Billy Perez like a proud papa at Little League. “He’s a champ.”
Grant did not appear to share Adam’s enthusiasm. “Is that our dishwasher?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“Yup,” Adam said. “He’s working his way up, just like I did.”
“That’s a beautiful story, boss, and I’m so pleased we could help Billy’s career, but who the hell is going to wash the dishes tonight!”
Adam’s eyes widened, then went shifty. He clearly hadn’t considered that yet.
Miranda stepped in. “May I make a suggestion?”
“Please do,” Grant moaned, one hand on his forehead.
Adam appeared highly entertained, but swept a generous hand in front of her as if inviting her to do her worst.
“First of all, stop panicking,” she told Grant. “If worse comes to worst, I’ll wash the dishes. Second of all, you’ve got resources at your fingertips. Frankie knows every kitchen worker in town. See if he can think of anyone to replace Billy.”
Adam looked impressed and Miranda felt an instantaneous glow of satisfaction. There was really nothing in the world like solving a problem.
“Hey, not bad. Thanks, Miranda. Yo, Frankie!”
“Yeah?” Frankie shouted from his hunched position over the grill as he gathered his nightly mise en place, little bowls of garnishes, marinade, and dry rubs with brushes, and different kinds of infused oils, all arranged precisely to be ready to hand when it came time to assemble his orders.
“C’mere a minute, we need your expertise.”
Frankie loped over, wiping his hands on a towel tucked into his pants.
“Go through your mental Rolodex,” Adam told him. “Who do we know that can pinch-hit some dirties for us tonight?”
Frankie squinted. “Didn’t Finnigan’s just close on Eighty-third? Should be some blokes looking for work right about now. I’ll make a couple calls.”
Adam clapped him on the shoulder and gave Grant a look. “See? All taken care of.”
“Sure, thanks to Miranda,” he replied tartly. “If it were up to you we’d be buried in crusty dishes before the second turn.”
“Yes,” Adam said, “but the stock would be perfect.”
Service was a breeze. Okay, fine, more like a gale-force wind, but smoother. And the energy in the kitchen! Adam couldn’t quantify the change, but he felt it. Heard it in the increased communication between cooks as they worked to get their plates up to the pass simultaneously. Tasted it in the silky white-asparagus soup and caramelized fennel jus for the pan-roasted chicken.
Even Miranda seemed less like a stress case than usual. Not that she was ever annoyingly neurotic or anything. Mostly she was a little tightly wound, in an endearing way.
But up at the pass with Adam, instead of working stocks and filling in where needed with Rob Meeks, Miranda nearly bubbled over with good cheer. It was moderately distracting.