Rose Petal Jam
05:20. My hand trembles as I slip a cigarette between my lips. I have to flick the spark wheel several times before it manages to ignite the tip. I inhale deeply, closing my eyes as the smoke rushes into my lungs. I trap it there, letting it reacquaint itself with my cells. Exhaling with a long sigh, I open my eyes and watch the smoke circle away into the clouds. It’s been four months since I quit. Four months since I lost my husband. It’s almost time to go inside and open up, but I still have time for another one, another breath of fresh air.
05:26. I always get here forty minutes before my staff arrive. I need that quiet time in the morning, alone. I need time to sharpen my knives and prepare myself for the unwelcome questions and publicity, the infamous “what is your secret ingredient?” Like a magician never reveals their magic trick, a chef never reveals their secret ingredient. I never used to have a ‘secret ingredient’, not until a couple of months ago. I’ve been getting a lot of nosy interviewers asking me about my personal life ever since it was unveiled that my husband had gone missing and has now been presumed dead. They’re so full of shit, acting like they care, giving me pity. They don’t care. They just want some juice, something new to write about, another story to make headlines and dirty, dirty money. I hate reporters, they thrive off other people’s misery. Everyone expected me to hit rock bottom when he went missing, but I didn’t, I just kept going and I just got better. I even made the front page in a bunch of newspapers as “Widow Turns Death Into Delicacies”. Then suddenly, everybody started asking me “what is your secret ingredient?” I never spilled the beans though; I’ve always been somewhat of a ‘clean-freak’.
05:58. My staff should be arriving anytime soon. I’ve opened everything up, checked all the surfaces and ordered today’s ingredients fresh from the market. I’m a vegetarian, I always have been; the idea of serving dead animals to people disgusts me - I’d rather serve human flesh. All of my restaurants serve vegetarian food, only.
06:00. My first member of staff has arrived, Rose. She’s always the first one to come. She’s a lot like me, much prettier though. We used to be close when my husband was around. We aren’t anymore. My husband introduced us at a party at his house a couple of years ago, she used to cater a lot for his mother’s parties. She was looking for a job back then and, coincidentally, I had just fired my sous-chef and gave her a chance at taking his spot - she was brilliant and has been with me ever since.
06:03. The other staff start trickling in now, heading straight towards the sink. It’s like watching a line of ants hurry towards spilt honey. I detest dirty hands. I always tell my staff that they must have hands clean enough to perform an operation.
06:10. Everyone is ready at their stations. This time four months ago my husband was still in our bed, fast asleep. I would make fresh crêpes with jam for him every morning before I left for work. It was his favourite thing to eat. He only went to work around eight o’clock. By the time he’d come back, I’d be asleep. We open up for breakfast at seven o’clock. I start writing my newest creations, ‘The Specials’, up on the board. Savouries: Blackberry Brie Omelette, Basque Potato and Camembert Frittata, Baked Egg Danish with Kimchi and Spinach. Sweets: Brioche French Toast with Vanilla-Bean Ice Cream, Chilled Blueberry Soup, Coconut Cream Muffins. I love creating new and weird dishes, throwing in the unexpected ingredient, not sticking to the recipe – I cook like I live my life. Well, at least like I used to live my life. Everything has changed now, ever since he disappeared. I feel guilty, all the time. But at least my cooking got better, I mean, ever since I got back in the kitchen after you know… I became a star. A sensation. I have my own ‘special’ freezer now, in my office, no one has access to it except me. It’s where I keep my stash for ‘The Specials’ … my secret ingredient.
10:50. The last customers should be leaving around now, we open-up again at one o’clock for lunch. I normally stay at the restaurant till then, I never used to go home for lunch, it’s not like I’d have anyone to eat with anyways. Rose would always leave for lunch though. She doesn’t anymore, not since the past couple of months. It’s always just the two of us now, lingering behind. She doesn’t speak to me, and if we happen to make eye contact, she darts her eyes elsewhere. She seems nervous around me nowadays.
11:47. I step outside for a smoke. I take a long drag, holding it in my lungs. I don’t have any children. My husband and I, we never really wanted our own kids. Maybe he did? I puff out the smoke, watching the it fade away. I take another drag, feeling the nicotine enter my bloodstream. I think he fell out of love with me, long before he disappeared. I think - he was seeing someone else. I force out the smoke, my chest grows heavy. I take one last drag, feeling the heat of the tip burning the skin of my fingers. I can’t stop seeing his face now. My hands around his neck – I can see into his soul through his eyes, all the lies… her face. I can see everything clearly now. I exhale slowly, liberating my lungs of the sickening smoke. I think I’m going to quit again.
11:53. I go back inside. I call for Rose. I tell her I want her to get something for me from my freezer. She looks shocked, confused. I give her my keys and tell her that I’m retiring my post. That I want her to take over now, I want to entrust her with my secret ingredient, so that she too can use it. But only on the condition: she swears never to share it with another soul. I tell her to fetch me a bag, right from the bottom of the freezer. She nods quietly, takes the keys and walks over to my office. About a half a minute later, I hear a scream, and then a thud.
05:20. I start to open up as usual, prepare for the new day. No smokes for me anymore, I quit yesterday.
06:02. My staff are starting to arrive now and are setting-up their stations. I head over to my freezer. I open the lid and push some bags of frozen vegetables to one side. There it is, my secret ingredient. I’ve almost used all of it up in these past few months, but that’s okay, I restocked yesterday. I push a couple of bags to the other side, and there it is, my new secret ingredient. I don’t think they would taste good together though, I don’t think the flavours would match. Maybe, I’ll just use them separately, individually – how they’re meant to be used. I decide to use the new secret ingredient today, in remembrance of my husband and decide to have only that on ‘The Specials’. I’ll make his favourite, and I’m sure if he were here, he would love it. Especially with my new secret ingredient. Although, I’m sure he’s already familiar with the taste.
06:53. I head back into the kitchen to write on ‘The Specials’ board, my newest creation: Crêpes with Rose Petal Jam.