They did not make any errors, at least none that were worth mentioning. There were a couple of times he sent out steaks that he knew were slightly under-cooked. The goal was always to send out steaks done a touch under. This way, hot as they were they could finish cooking on the way to the table, which they invariably did. And even then, if the customer were unhappy due to under-cooking, you could always fix an under-cooked one but you could never fix and overcooked one.
So there were a couple of steaks which were, by Bill’s own standards, very much under-cooked and for which he thought he might get caught. But even here, in this realm, he was lucky today. Nothing got sent back. No one, at least so far as he knew, made any complaints. Grandma did not run out of chicken. Mary did not run out of vegetables or baked potatoes, Henry Lee did not run out of meat. Bea and Esserine handled their salad station together such that they got everything out without disruption and without holding up any hot orders which followed behind the salads.
At four o’clock, when it seemed the big rush was over, Bill went downstairs to pee. Alvin watched the grill while he did so. Lillian went out to the hall to smoke a cigarette. Jimmy had one of the waitresses bring him a fresh soda, then he went out to the hall. Alvin flipped a few things, turned a few things.
Bill came up with a clean shirt and clean apron. He went back to the grill and he and Alvin ran out the board. They did this while Lillian finished her cigarette then sat in the corner of the kitchen on Bea’s stool, where she drank a cup of coffee.
This corner was where the desserts were. Several times waitresses came in to retrieve a pudding or a jello or some pie. They worked around Lillian who had done her best to situate the stool so she would not be in the way. One of the waitresses asked Lillian if she wanted anything. Lillian took a chocolate pudding, something very unusual for her.
The board empty, Jimmy, Alvin and Bill out in the hall, Bill and Alvin drinking beer, the kitchen rested. Kitchens were never quiet, but now the noise was toned down. It was the regular noise absent the tumult of the automatic doors constantly opening and closing, the chatter of the waitresses coming in and out and talking to Lillian or whoever was doing the expediting about anything special in their orders, the constant droning jets of the dish machine. The dish machine ran, but no longer all the time. No longer were the dishes clanking repeatedly as they were stacked, stack after stack.
Now the sounds were isolated. The machine ran, plates were stacked, it got quiet. Kitchen doors opened, a little time went by, they opened again and then there was quiet.
“Yeah,” Alvin said. “What it is. I think we just about had it.”
“Suits me fine,” Jimmy said. He sat on Bill’s milk cases, drank his soda, smoked a cigarette.
“Me too,” Bill said. He was still soaked underneath, but he wore a clean shirt and clean apron now so he was presentable.
Bill finished his beer quickly. When he heard Lillian call out “Ordering,” he went back into the kitchen and first thing, he told Arlene, who it happened to be, that he needed two more beers. He told her bring him some bourbon too.
Lillian had a four-top, all steaks. He put all the steaks on the grill, waited patiently for Arlene to return with the drinks. When she did come back in, he drank down the bourbon before he went out to the hall to give Alvin a beer. Then he stood by the broiler, drank beer, cooked the steaks, all with baked and veggies. Standing there he rested.
