That little rush ended pretty near nine o’clock. About that time, about when they only had one order working, Jimmy went out to Kalista. Bill found himself alone in the kitchen, which was quite all right with him.
The order was straightforward and easy: two sirloin strips with baked potatoes and veggies. They were both cooked medium-rare.
“This is my last table,” Jo Ann said. She lingered at the service window waiting for the food to come up. “If you don’t mind, I’ll have an order of salmon for my dinner.”
“That allowed?” Bill asked her. “I mean Caesar’s on my case and I don’t want to get in any real trouble.”
“It’s okay. Only things we can’t have is steak, lobster tails or frogs legs.” She smiled at Bill, not flirting, just what he thought of as her being friendly and cordial. Then she said, “Anyway, apparently you can cook, so you’ll be okay. And you’ve already shown you can handle Caesar and aren’t afraid to do so.”
“That’s a matter for the chef.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, where’d you cook before?”
“In a big steakhouse down in Columbus.”
“Go to school?”
“Yep.”
“Graduate?”
“Yep.”
“College boy, huh?”
Bill stopped what he was doing momentarily and looked directly at Jo Ann. “Ready for your order?” he asked.
“Sure. Let me have it.”
Bill smiled. He turned to the Garland, took up his tongs, flipped both steaks one last time. Then he plated each one on a plate he’d laid out and already set up with the garnishes. Done, he put a potato on each plate, split each one and gently spread the split by squeezing the end of the potato.
The last thing he did was spoon vegetables onto the plates. Then, one plate in each hand, he lifted them to the service counter, set them down and slid them toward Jo Ann.
Jo Ann took both plates in one hand, said, “Thank you sir,” and walked off to serve them.
Alone in the kitchen and with nothing working, Bill set up an order of salmon on a metal plate. He slid the plate onto the grill where the fish could broil. As it worked, he cleaned the area around him. When the salmon was sufficiently browned, he took up his kitchen fork and using it for the curved part of the fork (the back end of the two prongs) he hooked the metal plate, lifted it from the grills, opened the Dutch oven with his free hand, slipped the metal plate inside and released it from the fork. With the fork, he closed the Dutch oven.
When he turned to face the window, still alone in the kitchen, which he would discover in the first few days was going to be a norm of sorts, he found all three waitresses there facing him.
“This one knows what he’s doing,” Jo Ann said.
“Rosie likes him already,” Edelgarde said.
“Guilty,” Rosie said with a smile. Bill noted her dimples.
“You know, I’m standing right here,” Bill said.
“We all know,” they said pretty much all together.
“This is our way of letting you know that if tonight was any indication of what you can do, we’re hoping you’ll stay around a while.”
“Gee,” Bill said, “thanks.”
“My salmon ready?” Jo Ann asked.
“Getting there,” Bill said.
“Want anything to drink?” Rosie asked.
“A beer would be super,” Bill said.
“Not allowed,” Rosie said. But I’ll buy you one after work.”
“I’ll take a rain check,” Bill said.
“Open-ended offer,” Rosie said.
“Diet Coke be fine,” Bill said.
Bill turned away from them to the Dutch oven. He opened it and once again using the curved end of the fork prongs he hooked the metal plate then carefully lifted it from the oven and set it on the grill. There, he took up his spatula and slid it under the salmon.
After he plated the fish, he spilled most of the water in his sink. Then he melted some butter on the metal plate in the little bit of water he’d left. He squeezed juice from a lemon wedge into it and some capers with their juice. He let this reduce then spilled it onto the salmon.
Joanne watched him work on her plate. When the fish was set, he put a baked potato and vegetables on it. The plate, like all the plates he’d put out, was beautiful.
