Page 50 of A Recipe Called Home
“Thanks, again, for coming,” Jules said as they made their way through the front door.
“Geez. This is something,” Emily said, looking around. “Where do you want us?”
Apparently, two of the scheduled hostesses did not show up, so Jules directed Emily and Winnie to the front-of-house manager to help organize the registration table. It was going to be an all-hands-on-deck kind of evening.
Jules hurried back to the kitchen to continue prepping for dinner service. An hour later, she heard someone yell her name in the dining room, sending a flare of annoyance through her as she furiously chopped fennel. Setting her knife down, she wiped her hands on the chef’s apron tied around her waist and strode out of the kitchen. As she rounded the entrance to the dining room, Jules saw Barb standing near the bar.
“Mom! What are you doing here?” Jules asked, surprised to see her.
“Someone said you might need some extra hands." Barb, leaned in for a hug. “Thought I’d stop by so you could put me to work.” Her smile beamed at Jules.
“Who called you? I’m glad you’re here, just a little confused." Jules pulled back to look at her.
“Your grandma called this morning.”
“Oh, wow. That’s…great,” Jules stuttered, stunned yet elated that the two might be on the road to patching things up. It felt strange to have Barb here. Her entire childhood, Jules wanted Barb to be more like the reliable and doting mothers she saw from a distance at school, but that never happened. Now, decades later, her mom wanted to catch up. Better late than never, Jules supposed.
Jules walked Barb to the registration desk, where Winnie stood over a large stack of name tags. Winnie threw Jules an alarmed look. She was well aware of their strained relationship. But Jules just smiled and shrugged her shoulders. It didn’t matter; she was just happy to have her people here.
Soon, it was go-time in the kitchen. Gathering everyone, Jules did a quick roll call, going over the detailed schedule she’d laid out last night.
“It’s not brain surgery,” she reminded herself and the entire staff, who were eager and dressed in their kitchen whites or professional-looking black staff uniforms. Jules had always dreamed of being a real chef. Now she felt like one.
As the kitchen staff worked to assemble appetizers and put the chickens in the large ovens to roast, a low buzz started in the dining room. Jules poked her head out to see dozens of people dressed in formal wear zigzagging through the tables looking for their seats. The line to the bar was already long enough to wrap around itself.
As she scanned the room, she caught a glimpse of Grandma Rosa making her way to a table with Barb at her side. She looked regal, dressed in a beautiful floor-length gown in a deep purple color fit for a queen.
Soft music could also be heard from the large stage where Miles was playing. He looked dapper in his grey suit and pale pink shirt with his hair combed back. Jules had forgotten how nicely he cleaned up. He wasn’t alone though. Behind him was a serious-looking man playing the bass and a woman on saxophone—the same woman from the night of the play. The jazz song floated over the room with the ease of a band who’d been playing together for decades. Strangely, seeing the trio together on stage calmed Jules’ suspicions from earlier. They might have only been colleagues after all.
Moments later, a voice came over the microphone, “Welcome, everyone, to this year’s Bear Ball.” Applause followed as someone on stage gave brief remarks and announced the first course being served.
Jules threw her hair up in a high ponytail as sweat rolled down her back, readying herself for the most stressful part of the evening as the kitchen worked to prepare the main course. Her body stretched in all directions as she tried to keep the train on the tracks while putting the finishing touches on each dish as it appeared on the expediting table. Her grandma had been right: fifteen people changed their main dish selections upon checking in at the registration table. Thankfully, she’d planned for that.
As soon as the main course went out, Jules checked in with the crew handling dessert. It was all coming together, and they were now in the home stretch. Jules’ adrenaline continued to pull her along as she handed the finished plates off to the servers. The entire process felt like a well-oiled machine, humming along to an invisible metronome, the sinking feeling from last night nowhere to be found.
Soon enough, the attendees finished the main course and were looking forward to dessert. The small square white plates topped with tarts full of sliced strawberries and mascarpone had been assembled earlier, but the garnishes needed to be placed. A team of three chefs surrounded a low metal table in the middle of the kitchen, holding metal tweezers as they placed the mint leaves and micro edible flowers atop the minitarts, setting them aside in a line to be served—all 120 of them. Jules had a few extras, just in case.
With dessert on its way out, she had a moment to breathe. The hard part was over, and they’d avoided any catastrophes. Her limbs felt heavy with overuse, but her heart was full.
She did it, with a lot of help.
After a while, Emily and Winnie found their back to the kitchen, dolling out high fives. They said the guests were raving about the food. Everyone seemed satisfied and full and were now filling the dance floor as they finished their desserts. For the kitchen staff, the night was winding down. Jules took a moment to look around and realized she hadn’t seen her mom since before the service began.
Turning to Winnie, she asked, "Do you know where Barb is?"
“That’s a good question. I saw her a few minutes ago talking to your grandma by a table.”
As if on cue, Barb dashed through the swinging kitchen door with a crazed look on her face.
“Where’s Jules?” she shouted, stopping mid-stride when she spotted Jules standing next to Winnie.
“What’s wrong?” Jules asked, scared but a little skeptical.
“Grandma, she slipped. We need to call an ambulance."
Jules heart sank. “What? Where is she?”
“In the bathroom. She slipped on a puddle, I think.”
