I Don't Have Kids, I Have Livestock

~

Dinner service was absolutely hectic and Tina from the waitstaff was at the service window looking stressed and wild-eyed, “Two Cordon bleu, a medium rare eye, and five slow beef,” she said quickly.
An enthusiastic fuck yes from one of the sous chefs prompted the entire kitchen into a frenzy of hoots and opposing boos. Slow beef was on the up and up tonight and Josie wasn’t surprised — it was one of her best ideas. Onions, garlic, new potatoes, thyme, and tender, melting meat. Simple stuff, but after a whole day on low heat the dish was bringing them in a good forty-five dollars per plate, and the boys who prepped it were her shining stars — Christopher, Sean, and Bas. Josie couldn’t hide how chuffed she was with their efforts of late, and especially, tonight. “Punching above their weight tonight, we have Slow Beef! I hope everyone is paying attention.”
To her statement there came a resounding, Yes Chef Josie!
It was a lively Friday night but she was tired. Feeling it in her knees and at the back of her skull, the dull ache of being awake too long, too often. There was a strong want in her, to lie down and just close her eyes, but this was her kingdom and she would let it fall for nothing. She projected her voice over the din, “Service stops at eleven. On the dot. I want slow beef on clean up with me. They killed it tonight. They get the ‘wine and dine’. Please, everyone envy them.”
The kitchen erupted again into a mix of laughter and hisses. Josie saw Christopher and Sean high-five. Bas smiled quietly to himself next to them at the back countertop.

Forty-five minutes later the restaurant was empty and Josie was helping the slow beef trio hose down the benches and stock the fridges for the next day. Sean was the first to pause and look at her. She wasn’t surprised, the moment had seemed inevitable. The kid was sweating, flushed, and he looked disappointed, “Chef Josie. I’m sorry but…is this really what ‘wine and dine’ is?”
Josie smiled and turned to the other two boys, “Christopher, Bas, do you think this is wine and dine?”
“Uhhhh, I fucking hope it’s not.” It was Christopher, tucking his dishrag into his apron and raising an eyebrow to highlight his dissatisfaction.
She winked, “It’s not.”
The three slow beef boys seemed to breathe relief.
Sean was busting at the seams, “Tell us then, please Chef Josie.”
They eyeballed her with anticipation.
“Okay, well….it’s pizza and whiskey. And I’m paying,” she said, ignoring their boyish smiles and washing her hands, drying them on her apron. “Alright, I ordered them earlier so they should be ready for pick up. Kel’s Pizza House. Christopher take my car.” She tossed him the keys from her pocket, “They’re paid for.”
The kid caught them with his mouth open in excitement. “Oh. No. Holy shit, did you get the lamb with the…”
Sean cut him off, “…with the pesto and zucchini ribbons?”
Josie winked again. She noticed Bas hanging back - he was new to the restaurant and the area and clearly hadn’t yet been to Kel’s.
“Trust us Bas, this pizza will change your life.” She turned back to Sean, “There’s a bottle of Glenlivet back in the dry store behind the grains. And get some ice.”
Sean nodded, but then paused a moment, “Did you get the chicken as well Chef? The spicy….”
Josie rolled her eyes and spoke over him, “Yes, of course. The spicy chicken and avocado.”
The kid grinned and turned toward the storeroom. As they heard the doors close behind the other two, Bas and Josie made eye contact for an awkward moment. She started filling a couple of buckets and motioned for Bas to grab the mops from the store closet, “You’ve done really well this last month. I hope you know I’ve noticed that.”
He gave her a brief smile but avoided her eyes, “Thank you Chef Josie.”
Josie slapped her mop onto the tiles and started to wipe it in long arcs, back and forth, “No. Fuck that. Bas, you’re good. You’re better than anyone I’ve seen in a long time, and I don’t mean just on slow beef. I know those boys are pushy but I think you fit well with them. I saw you on prep work in the first week and I found myself surprised that you even took this job.”
The kid shrugged and kept on mopping next to her. Their synchronous movements were calming for both of them.
Josie continued, “Your knife skills are amazing. Enviable one might say. I mean….your julienne…..”
The storeroom door flung open to reveal Sean holding a dusty bottle of whiskey and a large stainless steel bowl of ice. There was a smirk on his face.
Josie pointed her mop at him, “Don’t you dare drag your filthy trotters all over our clean floor, heathen. To the bar the with you. We’ll be out soon.” She shooed Sean away with her hand and continued with the mopping.
Bas remained quiet and so did she for the next five minutes as they finished the floor and emptied their buckets. It was impossible not to hear Christopher burst through the front door of the restaurant with their bounty, even from the kitchen.
“I’m back, bitches.”

At the bar Josie and Bas took up stools on the customer side as Christopher set out plates and Sean poured drinks. They laughed and talked and gossiped, and after the first few rounds, everyone, including Bas, was relaxed and letting the stress of the night dissolve away to nothing. When the pizza was gone and the bottle was just about empty, Christopher put his hands up in forfeit, “Sorry Chef Josie, but Seany and I need to run for the last train home.”
She huffed, took something from her pocket and slid it across the bar toward Christopher, “No. Actually, you don’t.”
He picked up the sparkling bronze room card and held it to the light, “Royal on Pine? Are you fucking with me?”
Josie laughed — she saw the delight in Christopher’s eyes and the utter embarrassment in Sean’s, “You boys get one night on me. Don’t waste it.”
Christopher blurted his thanks and practically dragged Sean out into the cool night. They were headed for the loveliest bed they had shared in a long while.

Josie poured Bas another drink and packed up the empty pizza boxes. “Okay Ace. I have an idea that I’m toying with. A new dish. Something that I would like you to test; to taste; to perhaps take the lead on.”
He looked up mid-sip, “What is it?”
“Ahhh, not yet little one. The ingredients are at my place, as are the utensils. This is a one time opportunity.”
He almost blushed, “I’d…uh, come to your place?”
“Not like that,” Josie was fully aware how unseemly the whole thing sounded, “Just a plate test and you can crash in the spare room.”
Bas was flailing; completely unsure of how to respond and Josie could tell.
She attempted to calm the situation, “Look, if you want to say no that’s fine. Honestly. But like I said, it’s a one time chance. I could bump you up another ten thousand a year if you make this work.” She hoped the money would be shiny enough to persuade him.
“I….I just…my girl is waiting for me at home.” The kid looked guilty, as if he’d already done something wrong.
“So call her. Apologise. Ask her if it’s okay if you do this one thing.”
He hesitated, looked at the floor, and then slipped his phone out of his pocket. She was pleased with herself as she watched him dial the number, hold the phone to his ear, and bite his lip. Bas made eye contact with Josie as he spoke, “Hey. Baby. Yeah, no, I’m fine. Just finishing up. But um, Chef has asked if I can test a new plate with her. No. Tonight, like right now.” He frowned a little and turned away from Josie.
She saw this as her opportunity, dropped the garbage bags and swooped in to steal the phone from his hand, “Hi there, I’m Josie. Chef Josie.”
There was silence on the line.
Josie continued, “Hi, well it’s nice to meet you. Bas talks about you all the time, but he’s never mentioned your name. Care to share?”
Silence again, and then finally, “I’m Alice. Ha, it’s funny, actually. He talks about you all the time.”
“Well does he now?” Josie eyeballed Bas and watched him squirm, “Nothing but praise I hope. For his sake.”
There was a laugh down the line and then, “Sometimes work is all he can think about, to be fair.”
Josie had a sudden thought, “Alice, tell me — what did Bas cook you for dinner last night, if you don’t mind?”
The voice in the phone was silent in thought and then, “Mushrooms, avocado, and goats cheese on ciabatta with uhhhh…..some kind of translucent sauce stuff. It tasted of maybe…pepper and garlic. It was amazing.”
Josie smiled and Bas looked all the more embarrassed and inquisitive as he mouthed the word what?
“Okay Alice. How would you feel if I stole Bas for the night? It’s nothing creepy or inappropriate, I just need his opinion on a new dish at the restaurant and he’s worried it’s going to upset you if he doesn’t come home tonight.” There was a pause as Josie listened to Alice’s response. Her smile grew wide, “Ah. Fair enough. Understood. I’ll let him know.” She hung up and handed the phone back to Bas.
He took it but the colour had drained from his face, “What did she say?”
Josie poked her tongue at him and winked, “She said she’s going to have a quiet bath and watch Love Actually. I think she’s happy you’re not coming home.”
Bas huffed and rolled his eyes, “That would be fucking right.” He blushed when he realised what he had said, but Josie couldn’t care, she was already busy bundling up the pizza boxes and garbage bags.
“Alright Ace, ready to go?”
He nodded, promptly forgetting his faux pa, “I’ll get the lights.”

They stood for a moment outside the locked doors and quietly took in the dark, unassuming restaurant. It seemed so strange and unfamiliar stripped of it’s frantic staff and rowdy clientele. An hour earlier it had been a living breathing organism. Now it was silent and barren. Both Josie and Bas felt each other / themselves appreciating the transformation.
Bas didn’t turn but sighed and then laughed, “So, Chef Josie, are you going to tell me what’s on the menu tonight?”
She smiled and turned towards to the car, “C’mon Ace, I’ll tell you on the way.”

Josie’s place was a fair way out of town, up in the hills beyond the bustle of the city and that was the point — quiet, peaceful, sprawling —  a perfect place for her to escape the insanity of the restaurant and conjure up new dishes. Twenty minutes after leaving downtown they were pulling into the tree lined driveway and Bas was failing to hide his surprise upon seeing the immense house and property.
“Please tell me this is not where you live Chef Josie?”
She chuckled and parked the car in front of the main door. “I inherited it from my Grandfather. He was a great man. Taught me everything I know about life. And food, of course.”
She couldn’t tell if the kid was listening; he was staring up at the house. It was flooded in moonlight and did look quite beautiful to be honest, “Ok Ace, enough of that. We have work to do.”
She jumped out of the car and headed for the door of the house. Bas scurried out behind her like an excited puppy, “What did you say it was again?” he asked her as she turned her key in the lock.
“Beef carpaccio.”
Bas nodded and scratched his scruffy beard. They entered into the open dining area at the front of the house which was filled with large potted plants; ferns and hanging creepers and smaller palms. Directly ahead of the them was the enormous polished wooden dining table long enough to fit at least thirty people for a sitting meal. There were two dressed seats at one end and a few subtle flickering tea lights. Bas was staring again, mouth open.
Josie pushed him to the left and through the large door that led to the even larger kitchen. It was stainless steel and dark emerald from ceiling to floor and she was trying to picture just how big it was blowing the kid’s mind.
He didn’t even pause, “Ho. Lee. Fuck.”
Josie laughed internally and dumped her keys on one of the benches. The deep stainless steel work areas lined all four walls and skirted the large bench space in the middle, underneath which was drawer upon drawer of perfectly kept utensils and appliances. From one of the double door fridges she pulled a bottle of champagne and the meat she had obtained earlier in the day. “Open that for me please, Ace,” she said, sliding the bottle over in his direction.
He smirked and scooted over to uncork the wine, “Are you gonna call me that forever, Chef Josie?”
“Hmmmm,” she pretended to think a moment, “probably.” She produced two glass flutes from one of the cabinets above the bench along with an impeccably sharp knife from one of the many drawers, “Now Ace, I need your input. Pour us some wine and unwrap the meat while I put the pan on. You want to get salt and olive oil from the racks over to your right, and a board from the drawer underneath that.”
The hob was on one side of the bench in the middle of the room and Josie turned it up high while Bas did what he was told. He set the items down next, unwrapped the meat from its paper and took the glasses over to her at the hob. “What are we celebrating?”
“A new dish. If we can tweak this, get it right, make it a star, it will be called ‘The Bas’.”
The kid paled. They clinked their glasses together and Josie got serious.
“Pay attention Ace. Carpaccio. It’s flank skirt steak. A long, fairly thin piece. We sear it first. Fast and dirty — no more than thirty seconds a side — and then we let it rest for five minutes. That’s when the fun stuff happens.”
Bas sipped his wine, “We serve it with something?”
“Kind of. We slice it very thinly after the fiver, but we put stuff on top. So far I think a herb, something soft and mellow, maybe taragon, but I’m still torn on that one. I want a cheese, perhaps cheddar. Olive oil, maybe a touch of soy.” She was turning the pan around carefully on the hob, getting it hot and trying to pique the kid’s interest.
Bas pulled his bottom lip between his fingers, he was hooked, “Okay. I see where you’re going. The beef is basically raw, just sealed.”
“Yes, rub the meat with salt and oil and bring it over. The pan is ready, you can throw it on.” Josie nursed her wine, sat up on one of the benches, and watched him work. Clearly his nerves had calmed; he was in the zone now — thinking; working. He counted, his eyes on the clock that hung on the opposite wall, but he was thinking at the same time, she could see it in his eyes. The meat sizzled loudly, echoing around the kitchen. The two of them were enveloped in a lovely warm smell. When the minute was up, Bas transferred the seared skirt to the board and turned off the hob.
“Chef Josie, not to step on your toes, but I think a herb is too much.” He hesitated a moment, “And…..soy is not what you want, in my opinion at least,” he seemed nervous and confident at the same time.
Josie knocked back her wine and motioned for him to refill their glasses, “Okay Ace. That’s why you’re here. Tell me what you think.”
He drummed his fingers on the bench and bit his lip. “It sounds strong, but what about a tiny bit of Dijon, with olive oil. Then instead of a herb…..maybe watercress?”
Josie considered proposal. He had a goddamn point with the Dijon. And the watercress? She was a fool for thinking a herb was the answer. She wanted to hit herself in the face. “Well, fuck me Ace. You’ve outdone yourself. I know you’ve got a substitute for the cheddar as well. Give it up.”
He had some more wine and remained sheepish, “Okay, well. I say Romano. Just a bare grating of it. At the very last moment. Not harsh shavings; gratings. I know it’s strong like the Dijon but I think the beef will benefit from just the hint of those intense flavours.”
Josie downed the last of her wine and undid her hair. She was impressed; she was happy; she knew she had seen something in this boy. So much promise, but not drowning in confidence “You know what, fucking do it. Hopefully there’s watercress in the crisper, but I know for sure I have a scruffy block of Romano in the second fridge and a jar of Dijon next to the eggs.”
Bas rustled around in the fridges while Josie poured some more wine. She resumed her position on the bench and watched him work. The kid mixed the mustard and olive oil in a small bowl with a fork and checked the Romano for mould. Once he was focused he became a machine — that’s what she admired about him and, giving in to the truth of it, that was a part of herself that she saw in him — a commitment to finding the best, prepping the best, producing the best. There wasn’t watercress in the crisper, but Josie remembered that she had planted a small tub out behind the herbs, just a pot left over from a restaurant order.
“So I slice it thinly and then…” Bas seemed uncertain all of a sudden.
“Yes. We want it to be thin and mottled with threads of empty space. Layer the pieces alternately with baking paper and use a mallet from the top drawer over there to get them nice and thin. I’m going out to the garden, hopefully I’ll find the watercress.”
Bas nodded but didn’t lift his eyes from the meat on the board.

The night had really cooled down and the moon was high above her as Josie waded through the bushes of  seeding coriander and dewy flowers. Her torch light eventually landed on the scruffy little watercress plant. The thing was barely alive so she ripped it out of the ground, roots and all. Shaking off the dirt she pondered the night for a moment. Takings had been good. Patronage had been excellent. Josie was enjoying this particular Friday night. Bas had good taste, a good instinct, and even though that’s what she had expected it was still nice to be proven right.

She headed back inside to find him making quick but careful work of the flank. Josie brushed rounded the other side of the centre bench, snipped off the watercress roots into the sink and washed the leaves gently under cold water. She rested them on some paper towel next to Bas as he worked, and then hoisted herself up onto the bench opposite him again. He had poured more wine while she was away and Josie could tell he wanted to impress — this was his moment, and he was killing it.
Bas smoothed out his sandwich of layered flank strips and baking paper held the mallet with intent but clearly he was having second thoughts about something, “Chef Josie, I had my eye on some garlic hanging in your dry pantry, perhaps rubbing a fresh clove over the meat. Now I think that’s too much.” He didn’t wait for an answer and started to beat the layers of flank out nice and thin.
Josie figured the kid had a point. The mustard, the impending Romano — maybe garlic would be a step too far. Before she could say anything though, he was plating up the paper-thin strips of meat, drizzling them with the oil and mustard, and garnishing with watercress leaves. Bas cocked his head, regarded the dish a moment, and found the thought he was looking for, “Pepper. Fresh cracked pepper.”
Josie held up her glass and gestured to the the small cupboard behind him.

Out at the table he waited for her to taste the dish. The moment was tense, but she had imagined it would be perfect, and when it was, Josie met his eyes, “I think you’ve done it. The Bas.”
The kid was able to breathe again and took a gulp of his wine.
“You okay, Ace?”
“Yeah just, it’s been a long night Chef. Mind if I crash?”
She smiled warmly and breathed out, “Of course not. Head up the stairs over there and turn right. There’s a room at the end of the hall. The light should be on and I’m thinking there’ll be something in the closet that fits you. You’re basically my size and neither of us exactly wear feminine clothing,” she winked and eyed their matching checkered pants and dirty white, double-breasted jackets, “Don’t forget to plug your phone in. And there’s a bathroom through the door next to the bed-head.”
Josie watched him stumble up the stairs and saw nothing but his enviable sense of and potential.
At the top of the stairs Bas stopped and looked back down at her, “Chef Josie, can I ask a question?”
“Shoot, Ace.”
He hesitated a second but then the words fell out, “Everyone at the restaurant….I mean, Christopher and Sean and some of the waitstaff — they say you’re married. Or a lesbian. Or have like twelve kids. Or something,” he blushed, “but…..I haven’t heard anyone else here all night.”
Josie considered him a moment. She watched him sway on the step and try to keep his eyelids from falling shut. The kid was drunk and tired.
“No, Ace. Not married. And I don’t have kids, I have livestock. Other than that, it’s just me.”
“Oh,” Bas shrugged and seemed a little disappointed at her answer. He smiled then, “Ok. Sorry. That was kinda rude. Night, Chef Josie.”
“Night Ace.”

When she heard the door close upstairs she took the leftover carpaccio and divided it into seven portions and placed them on seven pieces of paper along with the leftover mustardy oil and watercress. She put them all on a long tray and, at the last minute decided the pepper was necessary. The kid had a damned point and she wasn’t going to just ignore that.
Tray in hand, Josie paused in the dining room and listened. There wasn’t any movement upstairs, Bas must have been asleep. She wasn’t surprised. He had worked a fourteen hour day and then spent another half hour trying to impress her. Poor kid was probably dead to the world.
Out the back door of the dining room she turned left, toward the kitchen-end of the house and made her way to the exterior basement door. On a chain around her neck, hidden under her chef’s coat, was the key to the door. She had to set the tray down and lean in close to unlock the large steel mechanism. The moon was her light.
Inside it was warm; perfectly temperate. Climate control had been worth the expense, it kept them comfortable and happy…mostly. The only problem was the smell — Josie hoped that one day she would be able to fix that problem. It was difficult to grant your livestock freedom when they had a penchant for breaking the fence.
She tiptoed down the stairs and across the open floor to the row of cages against the back wall, she didn’t want to wake them. Eight cages in total. Seven foot high, five foot wide, five foot deep. Cement floor, hence the heating, and seven foot between each cage, so they could talk but not touch. Small down lights were cemented into the floor in front of each of them.
Josie was quiet as she laid out each carpaccio serving in front of the cages, except for the fifth one. One of them, Number Three, a tall, dark haired kid she had picked up in a bar perhaps a week ago, stirred and sat up. The other five were still sleeping. He curled his fingers around the steel grid of his cage and watched her quietly while she kept her distance and used the hose from the far wall to fill up each of the rectangular troughs behind the bars. He was past the angry screaming stage. Onto the curious stage — most likely he wanted to try to confirm what the others had surely told him already.
“Hey,” he said quietly. He wasn’t afraid; he seemed almost resigned.
She smiled, “Hey yourself.”
“I remember buying you a drink.”
“You did,” Josie continued filling the troughs.
“You told me you were thirty-three. Is that the truth?”
“Yes.”
“You told me your name was Josie. Is that the truth?”
She wound the hose back onto its wheel, “It is, yes.”
“Why am I here?” he asked. His voice broke a little on that question.
Josie almost felt a sorry for the kid, “Wrong night, wrong place, wrong time. Sorry cutie.”
Number Three scrubbed a hand across his face and sat up to look at his serving of dinner, “It looks raw.”
She laughed a little, “It is, mostly. But I guarantee you’ll like it. It’s called carpaccio.”
“Where’s Marcel?” he asked, still staring at the meat.
“Ah. Number Five. He’s gone I’m afraid. He made me almost ten grand tonight,” she said as she smiled and squatted down level with his face, “Perhaps you’ll make me more.”
He looked at her then, but there was nothing in his eyes — he just sat against the back of his cage, knees pulled up to his chest.
Josie stood up and walked over to turn the sound system on. She’d had it installed at the same time as the climate control, cemented into the wall with a small speaker in each corner and a whole catalogue of music for her livestock, “Hmm….I’m in a Miles Davis kind of mood, Number Three. What do you think?”
He said nothing and watched her press play on the track.
Josie pulled her hair out of the bun she twisted it into for kitchen work, and turned back to Number Three in his cage, “Well kiddo, tell the boys I’ll be down in the morning with breakfast. No doubt Marcel will make for an absolutely delicious sausage scramble.”
She didn’t turn back as she padded softly up the stairs and locked the door behind her.