Table for Two 2: Amuse-bouche

>The alarm clock by your bed pulls you from sleep at 8 o'clock
>You get out of bed quickly, never one to waste time half-awake
>After you shave and shower you go to the kitchen
>An omelette will do for breakfast
>After putting on a pot of coffee you turn to the refrigerator
>You're lucky; Fluttershy raises chickens and has been kind enough to let you have your pick of eggs
>You used to have to pay top-bit for eggs like these in Canterlot and Manehattan
>Living in what is essentially the country has its perks
>What is left of the previous night's frustration quickly gets swept away as you start preparing your food
>With deft hands you crack a few eggs into a bowl, beating them with just a little bit of dill
>You set the bowl down and lay a large pan on the stove to heat
>While it comes up to temperature you chop a few mushrooms, some garlic, and feta
>You only get mornings like these every so often
>You've got to make the most of them
>The eggs hiss as they fall into the pan
>A fork lets you move the quickly setting liquid around, forming light layers and an even consistency
>The smell of the eggs and the dill fills your house
>You soon add the other ingredients and allow the eggs to set before sliding the omlette out of the pan and onto your plate, folding it in half as you do
>The coffee finishes brewing as you put the cutting board in the sink and clean your knives before eating
1/x

>With breakfast finished, you put your dishes in the sink to soak and down the rest of your coffee
>You've got a long day ahead of you
>Better get started
>You'll to pick up Rarity for lunch around noon, you think
>That leaves you a good three hours to yourself
>You decide to get your groceries for the week
>Going to the market early gives you the best pick of the produce
Let's see... what do I need?
>You look through the refrigerator, taking mental note of what's running low
Lettuce, spinach, tomatoes, carrots, eggs, onions, and garlic
>You jot a list down on some paper, quickly scanning the rest of the kitchen
Might as well get apples too, maybe another thing of olive oil?
>List in your pocket next to your bag of coins, you head out the door into the crisp fall air
>The market isn't too far off from your house
>A five minute walk brings you right to the heart of it
>Ponyville's market is alive with activity
>Stalls bearing all kinds of fruits, vegetables, and other pony-fare line the street
>The sound of bits clattering on counters and the murmur of the crowd overtakes the chirping of the morning birds
>It reminds you of Manehattan, though far less chaotic as that booming vision of urban sprawl
>You come up to the Apples' stall
>Applejack stands across the stall from you, an accommodating smile on her face
>”Mornin', Anon. What kin Ah git fer ya?”
The usual mix, if you please.
>”Figured as much. Here y'are. Six bits, as always”
>You drop the coins onto the counter and Applejack sweeps them off with her hoof
>”Enjoy yer apples, Mr. Fancy Chef”
I always do; best in Equestria
>You walk to the large vegetable cart next
2x

>You love looking at the displayed produce
>The cloves of garlic hanging just over head
>The carrots lying in neat rows, their green leafy tops covering their neighbors
>The heads of lettuce and cabbage, freshly washed, looking perfectly crisp
>It's a vision of plenty
>Of possibility
>You start picking out the vegetables you need
>Enough to make breakfast and lunch for a week, plus dinner for the one night a week you take off
>In a way, you've got a great job for someone who wants to save on food costs
>All you had to sacrifice for that was any semblance of a social life after 5 PM
>Tradeoffs...
>At least you've got mornings and afternoons, for the most part
>Speaking of which
>You look at the town clock
>10 o'clock
>Good, you still have time before lunch with Rarity to get some things done
>You pay for your produce and head to Fluttershy's house to get your eggs
>Fluttershy comes to the door sheepishly
>She perks up when she recognizes you, however, and leads you to the coop to collect the eggs
>You look on as she coaxes the chickens from their roost
>That stare of hers could scare water into boiling
>You head home, arms full of groceries to be put away
>A good start to the day, you think
>After putting the food away, you pull your knife set out and get to work sharpening and maintaining your tools
3/x

>You draw the first out of its pocket: a paring knife
>You make sure the edge is keen and wipe it down to remove any fingerprints or oil from the blade
>The paring knife doesn't see as much heavy use and doesn't dull as quickly as your others
>Next is the cleaver
>After that you examine the fish knife, the 12” utility, and the carving knife, sharpening each as needed and then wiping them clean
>You come at last to your final one
>The 10” kitchen knife
>It's a work of art. It was a gift from your teacher in Canterlot. He had had it specially made for you three years ago
>Pony knives were fine, he said, but you needed something to fit your hands
>Griffon -forged steel and a handle carved from dark ebony, it is perfect
>Along the side of the blade is etched
>”A true chef's heart, his very being, is held in his knives.”
>Truer words were never spoken
>You've carried it with you from Canterlot back to Manehattan, and from there all the way to Ponyville
>You draw the blade across the sharpening stone, a gritty metallic noise sounding with each motion
>As you've done for years, you keep the edge honed to a razor
>It's as much a part of your routine as brushing your teeth at this point; a ritual
>And you've got years of experience to show that it pays off
>The clock strikes noon
>How easily time gets away from you when you get into something
>You put your knives away and walk out the door to pick Rarity up
>It should be a relaxing afternoon before you have to go to work
4/x

>Carousel Boutique is a short walk from your home
>You spend the time thinking about where to actually go to lunch
>As you come up to her door you decide that the cafe will be just fine
> You rap on the door with your knuckle
>She calls out from inside
>”Come in, come in, it's open!”
>She comes trotting in to the foyer, occupied with her work until she looks up and sees you
>”Oh, Anon! I didn't even know it was you! I'll be right out and we can go, alright?”
You sure? You look pretty busy and I can wait until you're finished-
>”No, no, let's go. Work can wait!”
>She seems more animated than usual
Alright then, let's go have lunch. Does the cafe downtown sound good?
>”Of course!”
>She ducks into the back room and returns a minute later sporting a trendy-looking autumn hat
>”Let's be off then, Anon”
After you, Rarity
>”Ever the gentleman”
>She walks happily out the door
>The two of you walk side by side to the cafe, making idle conversation along the way
>You reach the cafe and are taken to your seats by the waiter
>”So how was your evening, Anon? You were working rather hard yesterday as I recall”
It went well enough, I suppose, only one table who returned anything to the kitchen, so that's a success
 >”Somep0ny sent something of YOURS back?”
>Rarity looks scandalized
>You're not sure why
Only one table, and they sent back something one of my cooks made first, they only sent back one that I made myself
>The look on her face...
5/x

>”Somep0ny had the nerve to send back something you made personally? Why I've never-”
>You interject
Rarity, it's not that big a deal. It was actually a good learning experience. I'm glad you have such a high opinion of my cooking, though
>The white mare blushes slightly
>”Well I DO pride myself on knowing what's high-class when I see it”
>She certainly looks proud of herself
But you know what was surprising about the whole thing? It was the Mayor who sent the risotto back.
>You lean back in your chair and look up absentmindedly
She's got some seriously refined taste, you know
>The blush on Rarity's cheeks has disappeared
>”The Mayor sent back your food? What was wrong with it, not enough hay?”
Uh, no. Actually she gave me some really good feedback on my recipe. I might put her suggestion in the actual menu sometime
>...
>You've never seen a pony do a spit take before
>”You're serious? But she's not even a cook! She's never even been out of Ponyville, for all I know!”
Calm down, Rarity. You're making a big deal out of something small
>She seems to collect herself after a few deep breaths
>”You're right, Anon. It's unladylike anyway, getting so worked up over something like that”
>She sits more rigidly in her chair and looks over the menu
So how have things been with the others? I see Applejack and Fluttershy whenever I get groceries, but how are Twilight, Rainbow, and Pinkie?
>You think it best to get her mind off of your work
>She might act mature and refined most of the time, but she's still young
>The waiter returns to the table and you order your lunch
6/x

>Rarity talks about her friends and what she and they have been up to recently
>The food comes out after a little while
>It's a light meal; standard Ponyville fare
>The two of you eat your lunches, enjoying each other's company and catching up
>Rarity seems much more at ease now that you're not talking about work
>It's nice. You take a bite of hay fry. Some of the food here took a great deal of getting used to, but you've managed to adjust to pretty much everything there is to eat here
>It would make your job a lot harder if you couldn't eat half of what you were cooking
>Conversation stays light for the rest of lunch; Rarity seems content to talk about her friends and her store, and you make sure to steer clear of work-related topics
>During breaks in conversation, your thoughts tend to stray towards the restaurant, the last night's events, and, once or twice, the Mayor's comments
>Maybe you WOULD use her suggestion on the menu
>You'd only been half-serious when you said it to Rarity, but thinking about it now, it wasn't a bad idea
>You make a mental note to make the recipe again once you get to work
>The check comes an hour later and you pick up the tab
>On the way back from the cafe, you feel Rarity brush against your hand ever so slightly
>You unconsciously edge away from the mare by a few inches
>She doesn't do it again, so you chalk it up to simply walking too closely
>You don't notice the blush which has returned to her cheeks
7/x

>You part company with Rarity at the door to Carousel Boutique
>The two of you make plans to get together again sometime and you head home
>2 o'clock
>You've still got a few hours before work, so you decide to take it easy for a little while
>You spend the time reading
>Before you know it, it's time to get ready for dinner service
>You change into your work clothes, pack your knife set into its case, and walk to the restaurant
>The kitchen is already bustling with activity, cooks moving to and fro as they finish the evening prep
>”Afternoon, Chef!”
>The greeting comes in waves as some cooks notice you sooner than others
>You track your Sous down after putting on your chef coat and hat
I've got an idea for the risotto. Make sure you're free in an hour or so so we can workshop it
>”Yes, Chef”
>You bring the risotto out into the seating area an hour later
>”Is this it, Chef? It looks just like the normal mushroom risotto”
Give it a try. I made a few changes to the recipe since yesterday
>He takes a bite of the rice and mulls it over
>”Huh, this is different. You can really taste the onion now and the mushroom is more pronounced. What did you do?”
I switched out the rosemary for thyme
>”How'd you come up with this idea?”
Would you believe me if I said the Mayor gave it to me?
>The Sous' eyes go wide
>”Are you serious?”
Yeah, you remember she sent back that plate, twice last night?
>”Sure do, you looked pissed”
I was, but it turns out she had a good idea. We're putting this on the menu from now on
>”Yes, Chef”
8/x

>The Sous goes and lets the waitstaff know about the change in the risotto
>You look the kitchen over and make sure everything is in order
>The walk-in is stocked, the stations are clean and clear, and the prep is nearly done in the back
>Good; you'll need to be as prepared as possible for tonight
>Saturday night during Restaurant Week
>There is no greater Hell
>You're pretty sure they have it easier in Tartarus than your kitchen has it on nights like tonight

>6:45
>Doors in fifteen
>You call the kitchen staff together for a pep-talk
>You're in charge of about 12 ponies in the kitchen
>One pastry, two salad, one pasta, one garnish, one fry, one saucier, one grill, three dishwashers,  and of course, the Sous-chef
>You clear your throat
Alright, we open in fifteen. This is the biggest night of Restaurant Week, and we're going to get hit hard from the start. I want each and every one of you at the top of your games tonight. Quick, clean, quality service will keep us from getting swamped. I want as good a service tonight as we had last night, and I know you ponies can pull it off, because you're the best I've ever worked with. Now are we going to get in there and blow them away?
>The collective shout reminds you how much you love this job
>”Yes, CHEF!”
9/x

>7 o'clock
>Doors are open and the first guests of the night start coming in
>By 7:30 most of the tables are filled and the first orders start coming to the counter
Table Eleven: Two portabella, two soup!
>”Yes, Chef!”
Table Six: Three hay-fritte, one soup, one salad!
>”Yes, Chef!”
Table One: One portabella, one salad, one risotto!
>”Yes Chef!”
>You start receiving plates to put up ten minutes later
Table Eleven: Up!
>The waiter swings around and picks up the platter
Table Twenty: Two hay-fritte, one portabella, one soup!
>”Yes, Chef!”
>By 8 o'clock the restaurant is full. There's a line forming at the host's standing-desk
>It's going to be a long night
>You plate dish after dish and call out order after order for hours
>A waiter comes up to the counter around 9:30
What is it?
>You barely look up from the plates as you arrange them on the platter
Table Sixteen: up!
>”I've got an order for the new risotto here, Chef”
Alright, what table?
>”Four. The pony there introduced herself as Rose; said she was a friend of the Mayor's”
>You stop what you're doing and look up
Coming right up
>”Yes, Chef”
>You call over to the Sous
Take over plating for a little while; I've got something I've got to make myself
>”Yes, Chef”
>As you work you wonder why you're doing this
>It's not like Table Four is any different from the other tables, so why not just leave the risotto to one of the cooks?
>Not the time to think about it. You make the risotto in ten minutes flat, thanking Celestia that your prep cooks could get it ready for fast service
>The plate goes out and you catch yourself wiping the sweat from your palm
10/x

>You go back to work plating dishes once the risotto goes out
Table Ten: Three tiramisu!
>“Yes Chef!”
>Desserts are going out with entrees in equal number, denoting the late hour
>The smell from the kitchen is a combination of sweet desserts and savory dinners
>Your stomach growls
>You look at the clock
>10 o'clock
>Only an hour until close
>Good; not a single return all night, and the kitchen didn't get backed up like you were afraid it might
>Four's waiter approaches the service counter
>”The mare at Table Four requested your presence”
>You look back at your Sous
I need you to take over plating again. I've got a table to talk to
>”Yes, Chef”
>He takes your place at the counter as you follow the waiter out into the sea of tables
>You're reminded of last night, when you did the same thing, following the same waiter to the same table to talk to somep0ny about how your risotto could improve...
>A pony with a rose-red mane sits at Table Four
>The waiter introduces you
>”Ms. Rose, I give you Head Chef Anonymous”
>”Charmed”
>She extends a hoof, which you shake lightly
How are you this evening, ma'am?
>”I'm well, thank you. I wanted to extend my compliments to the chef. Em told me about your risotto this afternoon and I just had to come try it myself”
Thank you, Madam Mayor's suggestion was very well received in the kitchen
>”You made quite an impression, Anon. I haven't seen Em rave about food since she came back from that trip to Hoofington”
That's very flattering, Ms. Rose. I'll have to send Madam Mayor my thanks
>”You won't have to. She's coming for lunch tomorrow. You can thank her in person then”
11/x

>Rose smiles up at you from her seat
>”Well, that's all I wanted to say, Anon. My compliments to the chef again”
Thank you, ma'am. Enjoy your evening
>You walk away from Table Four and come back to the kitchen
>You don't know you're smiling until you see the Sous looking at you confused
>”You OK, Chef?”
Yeah, yeah, just a customer complimenting the risotto
>”The thyme was a good idea. Everyp0ny who's tried it back here has loved it”
Out there too. You guys did a great job tonight. Kudos
>”Thank you, Chef”
>You take your place at the counter again, your spirits raised from the exchange at Table Four
>Service goes smoothly for the rest of the night
>After the final guests leave, you head to your office to write up the shift notes
>312 covers tonight, no returns. Service was spot on
>You remind yourself that you have to make the produce orders tomorrow morning
>You write up a note for it and pin both to the cork board before leaving the restaurant
>The walk home is peaceful. Your mind wanders to the Mayor's planned lunch tomorrow
>You feel yourself becoming nervous at the prospect
>More so when you start wondering why you're nervous at all
>Haven't you had tougher customers before?
>Haven't you had more stressful parties?
>You catered the Grand Galloping Gala, for Celestia's sake...
>Why are you nervous about catering to one small town Mayor's taste?
12/x

>You push it from your mind
>Tonight was a great service
>You focus on the success rather than thinking about tomorrow
>You get home and pour a glass of Scotch to cap off the night
>Restaurant Week might be awful...just awful, but it's gotten off to an...interesting start so far
>You lean back in your chair, reflecting on the night's service again
>The Mayor's risotto was a hit, it seems
>You really should thank her for the idea tomorrow
>Maybe find out where she got her refined tastes
>That vague nervousness returns
>You take a sip of Scotch and drive it out
>You've dealt with worse
>You're not going to let nerves get the better of you
>The clock strikes midnight as you finish your Scotch and put the glass in the sink
>It's been a good day
>Sleep comes easy; your nervousness is chased away by the feeling of pride that comes with a night going off as well as this one did
End