A slight preface: This was based on an idea I had over Spring Break with the family. On the ride home, my wife and I chatted about the idea. It was really fun hashing some of the details out with her. I was thrilled when she took a stab at writing a small character piece based on the idea. Below is her introduction. I'm both excited and pleased to present it. Past the cut is where I took that idea and ran with it. We hope you enjoy.
The kitchen is a ruin.
There looks to be a method to the madness but a ruin nonetheless.
As she places the tiny microgreen on top she inhales. It looks so perfect. Maybe this time she's done everything as needed. Maybe this time it will work. Closing her eyes she lifts the spoon to her mouth.
One perfect morsel. The crispy duck skin, the smokiness of the duck breast, the poached quail egg popping in time with the tiny sphere of basil oil, and finally the zing of pepper with the arugula micro green. She pauses as all the flavors work together to create a harmonious whole. And they do, almost.
It's good, even great.
But not transcendent, not ethereal, not unearthly, not as good as the original.
She throws the spoon in the sink. It splatters dish water as it lands. Where had she gone wrong? Was it the timing on smoking the duck? Maybe the basil had been just a day past perfect? Or was it, as Chef Adria said, that women lack the taladro de carne and therefore... she can't even get through that one without rolling her eyes so hard it hurts.
"UGH, why can't I figure this OUT!?"
With a sigh she starts cleaning up the kitchen. She's been a dishwasher much longer than she's been a chef. Washing dishes is as close as she comes to meditation. It also helps her catalog this latest failure.