‘That’s what you thought?’
‘Unless you can come up with a better suggestion for how we do it? The morning would work too.’
‘My suggestion is that non-professionals aren’t set loose to run wild in my kitchen.’
I would have challenged her use of the term ‘run wild’, but these were the Outlaws, so I couldn’t rule it out.
‘I was hoping you’d be our judge.’
‘Meaning I’d sample whatever they came up with? Is that supposed to change my mind?’
‘Wendy.’
‘Chef Wendy.’
‘Chef Wendy, one day you’re going to retire.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure.’
‘One day, when your hands start to tremble and your sense of smell and taste wanes, when standing for eight hours straight is agony on your back, and you don’t have the arm strength to chop an entire crate of carrots, you will have to call it a day. When that day comes, imagine if you’re living by yourself—’
‘I live by myself now.’
‘Exactly. So most days you’ve no one to cook for. You could spend time creating exquisite meals at home, but no one else will taste them. Your appetite is so small you can’t finish most of what you cook, and you definitely can’t afford to waste it. So, instead you keep it simple, leaving the feasts of your past to your imagination. Until, one day, someone offers you the chance to step back into a professional kitchen and show what you can do. Just once, so if it leaves you exhausted and aching for a week, it doesn’t matter. You spend hours planning, dreaming, coming up with the perfect showstopper. Knowing that for one day you won’t be that old woman who can’t do up the buttons on her cardigan; you’ll be an incredible chef again.’ I paused for effect. ‘Only the new chef says they don’t trust you in their kitchen, despite being appropriately supervised, so instead you heat up another tin of soup.’
Wendy sat back in her chair, face blank. I tried not to blurt out my last resort, that I’d get the owners to agree to it whether she liked it or not. That would have not only destroyed my credibility but been akin to declaring a full-on kitchen war.
‘Just the once?’
‘To start with. If it goes well, I’d like to discuss the possibility of making it a regular event. Every other month or so.’
She gave the briefest, tiniest of nods, but it was enough to give me the courage to ask something else.
‘I was also wondering if I could ask your advice about something?’
She took a careful sip of her drink, but didn’t say no, so I took that as a sign to continue.
‘I need recipes for a three-course meal, something impressive but fairly easy to cook.’
‘How can something easy to cook be impressive?’
‘Okay, something thatseemsimpressive. To a non-professional.’
‘How many people?’
‘Two.’
She raised one thin eyebrow. ‘A date?’
I nodded. ‘Not me. I genuinely am asking for a friend.’
‘I’d stick with a mezze platter to start with. If you get quality ingredients then allyour friendneeds to do is arrange them on a board.’
She fired off a few suggestions for a main course and dessert, and even offered to send me a couple of recipes. It was all going great until I asked if I could have a practice run in the kitchen.
‘I thought this was for a friend?’
‘It is. I’m going to teach them how to cook it.’
