Table for Two: Aperitifs (Anon x Mayor Mare)

>Friday evening in Ponyville
>The beginning of Restaurant Week
>Sweet Celestia how you HATE Restaurant Week
>If you had your way, you wouldn't deal with this gimmick
>But that's not your call to make; you're the Chef, not the owner
>Waiters trot in and out of the kitchen carrying platters and listing off orders to you over the service counter
Table six: Two salads, one hay-fritte, one Portabella, two soup!
>A collective response from the kitchen “Yes Chef!”
>You bring your attention back to plating dishes as they come up
>Everything is going smoothly, lucky for you
>This week is stress enough; you don't need any screw-ups to make things worse
>You plate a set of entrees
>Your eye twitches involuntarily when you see a missing item
Table Four is up, but no risotto, what's the hold up?
>”Sorry, Chef. Two minutes” the response comes up from the unicorn working entrees
Make it one minute. What have I said about timing?
>”Timing is everything, Chef.”
Exactly. Make it work
>”Yes, Chef.”
>The waiter is looking antsy
>”I need Four's plates now, Chef.”
Coming up. Send my apologies for the wait.
>The risotto comes to the counter and you quickly plate it with the rest of the entrees
>The waiter whisks it away into the sea of tables and chairs
>You are Anon. Head Chef at Ponyville's premiere establishment
>It took you six years of straightforward determination, blood, and sweat to get where you are now
>Of course, thumbs helped too
>Good ol' thumbs
>Your pride is shaken two minutes later when a waiter clears his throat to get your attention
>”Table Four would like a new plate of risotto. Seems this one is overdone.”
>Can't just have one night go without a hitch, can you?
1/x

>You take the plate and taste the risotto
>It's creamy and smooth; the rice has a little less firmness than you would have liked, but it's certainly not noticeably overdone
>Whoever sent this back must have discerning taste
>You decide to make the new risotto yourself
Tell our patron that their risotto will be out shortly
>The waiter nods and trots off
>You turn to the line and start preparing the new plate
>The oil falls into the deep pan as you turn on the flames and lay out your ingredients
>You crush some rosemary and sage, throwing them into the oil just as it begins to swirl
>The rice comes next. You pour it into the pan and listen to it hiss, allowing the oil to soak into each grain before you move on
>This is what you were here in Equestria to do
>No matter how much Restaurant Week irks you, with its uninspired menus and high demand for quick prep, the chance to do what you do best is always welcome
>The rice is translucent now. Time to add broth
>A plume of steam billows up from the pan, carrying the smell of the herbs with it
>The rice greedily soaks up the liquid and you add the onions and mushrooms before pouring in more broth
>After a few minutes you've finished. The rice is perfect; you've made sure of it
>Years of experience here have taught you several lessons
>One being the right way to cook risotto
>Another being a pathological need to personally see to any dish that gets sent back to the kitchen
>Both have helped you gain a reputation here
>A waiter gives you another set of orders
Table Eleven: Two hay-frittes, one salad, one risotto, one soup!
>”Yes Chef!”
Table Six, up
>You place the plates on the counter for the waiter to take out
>A glance at the clock tells you you're half way through the dinner rush
>Things are looking good
>Table Four's waiter clears his throat
2/x

>”Table Four would like to speak to the Chef.”
>He places the plate of risotto on the counter as you pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration
What's the problem now?
>”She wouldn't say. She just asked to speak with you, Chef”
>You sigh and call to your Sous
Take Plating for a couple minutes. I've got to talk to a table
>”Yes, Chef.”
>You follow the waiter over to Table Four
>The restaurant is packed. Restaurant Week always attracts a larger crowd than usual, and it being Friday only compounds things
>You pass ponies you know from town as you go, greeting them in passing as you make your way after the waiter
>You see Rarity and her family at a booth. The white mare waves to you happily as she looks up and sees you walking by
>Time permitting, you'll go and say hello once you've finished at Table Four
>The waiter stops at a party of five ponies
>You straighten your coat and look around the table at the guests
>Your eyes scan the table until they come to rest on an empty place setting and your discerning customer
>A tan pony wearing a ruffled tie and spectacles looks at you from the table
2.5/x

>You swallow hard
>The waiter introduces you
>”Madam Mayor, Councilponies, I present our Head Chef, Anonymous.”
>He motions to you before walking off to take care of the rest of his guests
Good evening, Madam Mayor. What seems to be the trouble?
>An awkward beat passes before she speaks
>”Yes, Mr... Anonymous, was it?”
You can just call me Anon, ma'am
>”Anon, then. I felt it was necessary to speak to you in person instead of just sending plates back to you in the hopes that you would somehow know what I wanted”
That's very thoughtful of you, ma'am. Now what can I do for you?
>”Well, the risotto is fine, I suppose, but it seems to be...missing something...  I thought it was that it was overcooked at first, but the second dish had it too...Tell me: are you using fresh or dry rosemary in your oil?”
>You're taken aback by the specificness of the question
Uh, we use dried rosemary. About two sprigs worth, crushed and heated with the oil. Why do you ask?
>The Mayor thinks for a moment
>”Would it be possible to use a bit of thyme instead? The rosemary overpowers the finish from the onions and hurts the balance of the dish”
>You take a moment to realize that your jaw is practically on the floor
O-of course, Madam Mayor. Mushroom risotto substituting thyme for rosemary. I'll have it out for you in a few minutes
>”Thank you, Anon.”
>You walk back to the kitchen, stunned by the exchange.
3/x

>The shock wears off after about 10 feet, and by the time you've come around to Rarity's table you're getting annoyed
>How dare she tell the Head Chef how to do his job?
>You decided that the good Madam Mayor can stand to wait a bit for her very special request
>Rarity speaks up as you approach her table
>”Anon! How delightful to see you. I was just in the middle of telling my parents what a positively wonderful establishment you have here. It's like a little piece of Canterlot right here in Ponyville”
>You realize your fist is clenched tight and, before Rarity can see, you release it and put a smile on
Thank you very much, Rarity. I love the Ponyville fare, but there's always a place in my heart for the classic Canterlot school
>You turn to the rest of the ponies seated in front of you
And how are all of you enjoying the evening?
>Rarity's mother smiles up at you
>”Everything's been perfect, Anon.”
>You're glad to hear it. The Mayor's rather specific comments and questions had shaken you a bit and it was a relief to get some approval before going back to the line
Good, good. Well if you'll excuse me I've got a special order to fill. But Rarity? We'll need to get together sometime soon. It's been busy here, but I'm sure we could swing lunch tomorrow to catch up?
>It's unprofessional, you know; you should be on the line fixing the Mayor's request, but you're more than a little annoyed at the politician's presumption to tell you how to cook
>”Oh of COURSE, Anon!”
>Rarity has been one of your closer friends here since moving to Ponyville
>She'd provided you a place to stay for the short time between your arrival and your house being ready to move into
Alright, lunch it is. Enjoy the rest of the evening
>With that you're off to the line to make the Mayor's risotto
>You'll show HER who she's lecturing
4/x

>The Sous looks at you quizzically when you return to the counter
>”How'd it go, Chef?”
Seems Madam Mayor is quite the connoisseur. Get one of the cooks to grab some thyme, would you?
>He looks confused, but goes anyway
>”Yes, Chef”
>You take a fresh pan and pour the oil
>Flames lick the sides of the pan, bringing the oil up to temperature
>The thyme comes soon enough and you crush it with the sage
>When you've added the rice and broth, the steam billows up, bearing a totally different scent than before
> As you add the mushrooms and onion, you're struck by how well the smell of the herbs and the rest of the ingredients balances
>You knot your brow and finish the preparation
>Before you plate it, you taste the risotto
>Your frustration mounts as the light sweet finish of the onions comes out, complimented by the thyme and sage
>How did you miss something so simple when you came up with this dish?
>Table Four's waiter comes to the counter to take the plate
I'll handle this one.
>”Alright, Chef.”
>You wipe the edge of the plate and carry it out into the sea of tables, off to your destination
>By this time it's been over 45 minutes since Table Four placed their original orders
>You're getting nervous. Service shouldn't be so slow; not in your kitchen
>You arrive at the table and set the plate in front of The Mayor
>Indignation and frustration have at this point given way to anxiety. A bad review from The Mayor would kill your reputation
>She takes a bite
5/x

>She chews slowly, agonizingly so
>You feel a drop of sweat roll down your forehead
>The other ponies at the table, having finished their own plates, watch with bated breath as The Mayor sets her fork back down and swallows
>She dabs her lips lightly with her napkin before turning to you
>”Anon, I must say I'm very impressed. It's not often a chef comes to Ponyville with such talent; let alone one who takes such personal interest in their clientele.”
Well, it's not often I serve customers with such well-developed tastes
>Best to hide your scratched pride; you can nurse your ego later
>”This risotto is fantastic. The onions are complimented perfectly, and the balance is superb. Bravo, Chef”
>She says this with a charismatic smile and a light clap of her forehooves
> Maybe it's her tone, or maybe it's your ego, but you can't help but feel condescended to.
Thank you very much, Madam Mayor. I'll have the risotto taken off the check for the long wait
>”I appreciate it, Anon. Thank you for a wonderful meal”
Have a pleasant evening, everyp0ny
>You walk back to the line, not sure if you've scored a victory or not
>Your Sous goes back to his station when you return, and you're back in the swing of things in no time
>Dishes come to you for plating, and you quickly put them up to serve
Table Twenty Three: Up!
>Waiters come to take platters and you feel that sense of pride return as you perform your duties without interruption
>More orders come in and go out, the flurry of activity forcing any thoughts about the risotto or The Mayor's comments out of your head
Table Two: Three Crème brûlée, two tiramisu!
>”Yes, Chef!”
6/x

>The restaurant closes at 11 that night
>You wipe down your counters and turn the gas off at your stove before writing the shift notes for the kitchen
>243 covers, only 2 returned plates.
>Service speed was good, maybe a little bit on the slow side
>You run your kitchen like a well-oiled machine and it shows
>Restaurant Week, for all the grief it brings you, is off to a good start
>And you aren't needed tomorrow until Service starts at 5, which means you can have that lunch with Rarity
>You jot down the service notes and pin them to the cork board outside your office before leaving the dishwashers to their work
>The night air is cool; a soft breeze blows through the streets as you walk home
>It's nothing like Canterlot here, and worlds away from the hustle-bustle of Manehattan
>Such a small town, you were surprised when you were asked to come here to run the kitchen of a fine-dining establishment
>But it's been a success so far, and the pay is nothing to complain about
>Ponies have been coming from all over to eat here; you've had parties from Cloudsdale, Baltimare, and even a few all the way from Manehattan
>You suppose that having a human Head Chef adds a little bit of a novelty draw, but you like to think that it's your reputation as a Chef that brings them in
>The quiet nights in Ponyville are a welcome reprieve from the noise and rapid activity in the kitchen
>You recall nights in Manehattan where you would leave the restaurant hoping for some rest, and walk right into the middle of a street-party
>No rest for the weary in Manehattan
>As much as you miss the lively scenes in Canterlot and Manehattan, Ponyville has grown on you this past year
>Good friends and good food will do that
7/x

>You reach your house after ten minutes of walking
>Out of exhaustion you fall into the chair in your living room with a glass of Scotch to unwind over
>The Mayor's comments stick with you
>You're not sure why
>You've dealt with critics, and ponies who thought themselves critics, before
>You've had worse reviews before
>Hell, you've had ponies walk right out in a huff, when you were just starting out
>The world of metropolitan cuisine is not a forgiving one and you ran that gauntlet for five years before coming here, so why did you bristle so much at one discerning customer's comments?
>You take a sip of Scotch, mulling the issue over in your head
>Just surprised, you suppose. It's not like you were expecting somep0ny to give such specific criticism off the cuff like that
>It was good criticism too. You're not sure you would have thought of it had she not brought it up
>She's an interesting one, that Mayor
>You wonder where she got such a keen palette. The only other pony you know who knows food anywhere near that level is Rarity, and she got it from you
>Her mother still chides you jokingly, saying that it's your fault Rarity spends so much on food nowadays.
>You chuckle to yourself as you finish the Scotch and put the glass in the sink
>The clock says it's almost midnight
>Time for sleep
>You're going to need your rest if you're going to take Rarity out to lunch and THEN work Service tomorrow night
End