Je t’aime

“Am I going to get to meet Chef Paul? I’ve heard he is a genius. I would love to ask him some questions about his technique with mousse. I wonder if he’ll know who I am, do you think he will?” Kendra continued to gush as they made their way to the back entrance.

“You’re not here to elbow with Chef Paul, I’m sure he won’t know who you are or care. You’re here to see a real kitchen in action. Pay attention, this kind of opportunity doesn’t come often. No questions, no talking. Stay out of the way and maybe you’ll learn something.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon and evening traveling from one restaurant to another. Most were four or five start establishments were Chef Angela had worked or knew the Chef. As ordered Kendra kept her mouth shut and only asked questions when allowed. She learned a great deal that night including the fact that she by no means knew everything there was to know about food.

At one point during their wanderings, they ended up in what could only be called a dive. There they stopped for one of the best meals Kendra had ever eaten. Simple ingredients had been transformed into a feast. The skill with which the cook had combined the spices, vegetables, and meat could only have come from a well-trained chef.

After the meal Chef Angela took Kendra back to the kitchen to introduce her to the man who had created the wonderful food.

“Kendra, I would like to introduce you to my good friend, Chef Michael. We went to culinary school together and have known each other for years.”

“What are you doing in this place?” the words were out of her mouth before Kendra could stop them. Horrified, she clamped her hands over her mouth.

“That’s okay, it’s a valid question. I think Angela wanted you to see the full picture. Let’s get some dessert and we’ll talk.” Chef Michael said, grinning.

Over the next hour, Chef Michael told Kendra about his life, from his graduation from culinary school to the downward spiral into drugs. This was a side of the culinary world that Kendra had not known about. By the end of his story, Kendra understood that the world she was joining was more than just food. It was a world of deceit, competition, s*x, and drugs.

“Thank you Michael, for sharing all that with me. It must have been hard to find yourself cooking here after all the fame you had.” She said.

“Actually, I’m happier than I have ever been. Just remember it’s all about the food and what you do with it.” He said, as he returned to the kitchen.

By the end of the night, Kendra had a new appreciation for how difficult making it in the restaurant business really was. But Chef Angela still had one more lesson she wanted Kendra to learn.

“How many of those Chef’s we met tonight were women?” She asked.

“Well, not many.” Kendra replied.

“And how many were African American?”

“Only a few.”

“My point is simple. You are going to be competing in a world that is geared not only to men but to white men. African American female chefs are hard to find. It will always be a struggle, but don’t let that struggle make you lose sight of what you really want. To cook.” She finished.

Kendra was quiet for the rest of the trip home. She had a lot to process and she was feeling a little over whelmed. Her vision of the future had always included fame and fortune, she had to determine if the price was worth it. In the end she realized that what she really wanted to do was cook, whether in a five star restaurant or in a dive, her life would be spent in the kitchen.

With new determination she sought to learn as much as she could, working any job that would allow her access to the best chefs in the city. She had taken Chef Angela’s lessons to heart, worked hard, and graduated from high school early. Securing herself a slot at one of the best culinary schools in the city had been easy, with her tuition covered, she graduated with honors.

From there she had gone on to work in some of the best restaurants in the city. Never as a head chef but only as an assistant, soaking up as much knowledge as she could. When she had been ready, she had taken a position as head chef in the very restaurant she had fled in tears, all those years ago.

She had only been at the restaurant a year when it had received two Michelin stars. She had been propelled to the top of the restaurant world in the city, gaining the fame she had dreamt of all those years ago.

Now only a year later, she had just been offered a coveted position at La Femme, the hottest restaurant in Paris. It was the chance of a lifetime, the only downside was the move to Paris. She could speak passing French, but leaving her mother would be difficult. They had never been that far apart before and she knew it would be difficult for them both. Regardless of the drawbacks, she was beyond excited about the new job.

*****

In less than three months, Kendra found herself living in Paris, working in the restaurant and making new friends. The language had been a difficulty, but Margot, one of the waitresses at La Femme could speak English about as well as Kendra could speak French. They found that through a combination of both they could communicate fairly well.

Margot had been a life saver, helping Kendra acclimate to her new world. Paris was like no other city. There was always something interesting to do, no matter the time of day. Things moved slower here as well, the Parisians didn’t face the day with the same urgency that American’s did. They enjoyed lingering over their food for lengthy periods of time. This was especially true of breakfast, which quickly became Kendra’s favorite time of the day.

Because she worked at night, Kendra always slept late, then found her way to the corner café where she would enjoy croissants and a rich cappuccino. She would eavesdrop on the other patron’s conversations, practicing her French in her head as she lingered over her breakfast.

One morning, Margot found her there, in her usual spot. Getting a cup of tea, she joined Kendra on the patio.

“Though I might find you here.” Margot greeted her, grabbed a croissant from the basket and sat down.

“It’s the best way to work on my French. I had to witness a break up this morning. That couple that I told you about were here again this morning, fighting as usual. Then, out of the blue the woman threw her hands up in the air and said she was done. She just got up and left, end of story.” Kendra said, glancing over her shoulder.

“It took me 15 minutes to figure out what they were fighting about, today. I would feel guilty about listening in, but they don’t lower their voices, so I guess they don’t mind the whole world knowing their business,” she said.