Mr. John Elton was not in a good mood. His son Jimmy had recently visited while on leave from university, and, in his opinion, being an occupant of the same square kilometer of the earth’s surface as him would put anyone in a bad mood. He was a blot on Mr. Elton’s otherwise happy life, which he spent indulging his fondness for cooking by running one of the country’s most prestigious French restaurants. Jimmy was enthusiastic about cooking, but his passion was not backed up by skill. The other day, he had made a soup with a stench so foul one of the
younger waiters had almost asphyxiated.
Furthermore, he had accidentally upended the vile concoction upon Taupin, Mr. Elton’s sous chef who had served as his right-hand man for twenty years. The man was so humiliated that he resigned on the spot. Just when Mr. Elton thought that things could get no worse, he received a call from Bob Lester, saying that he would be visiting the restaurant in two days. Mr. Bob Lester was the world’s foremost food critic, who was infamous for only ever taking one bite of any dish in front of him. His word could make – or more commonly, break – the fortune of any restaurant.
And without his trusty sous chef, Mr. Elton could hardly run his restaurant properly, forget to serve an international critic. Thus, Jimmy Elton was packed off to university two weeks early, and Mr. Elton found himself in a dilemma. The new sous chef, Jack Lennon, was an unconventional young man who he had had little interaction with despite the man working in the restaurant for five years. An unfavorable review would be the end of his restaurant. He was in his favorite armchair, nursing a cup of coffee and wondering what to do when his wife bustled into the room.
“John, we have a problem.”
“I know, dear, I know.”
“You do? “
“It has been dwelling on my mind for quite a while.”
“What do you think should be done?”
“I was considering a Coq au vin.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Or perhaps a Boeuf Bourguignon? Or would that be too stereotypical?”
“John, what on earth are you talking about?”
“The visit, of course. That critic Lester is coming to the restaurant tomorrow. We must put on a good
show if we want the restaurant to stay in business.”
“Oh never mind the critic! It’s Cynthia who’s important here.”
“Cynthia?” He asked blankly.
“Yes. Your daughter, Cynthia.”
“What about her?”
“Well, I found out that she is in a relationship with that new sous chef of yours, Lennon.”
“So?”
“So? So? Is that all you have to say, John Elton? In case you have forgotten, your daughter is a girl from a respectable, upper-class family. What would people say if they heard of her having an affair with one of your employees? And after all that time and effort I spent getting her ingratiated with Connor Shaggs!”
“Connor Shaggs is ignorant, carefree and wild!”
“Oh, phooey! He’s a rising star in the government! He even got a seat in the Parliament recently!”
“Heaven forbid! People like him in Parliament? No wonder the progress of the country is going downhill from where it once was..”
“You just don’t like him because he doesn’t like French food.”
Exactly! Did you know, he once came in here, and what he asked for? French fries!”
In Mr. Elton’s view, there could be no greater sin than this. The event had happened over a year ago, but he had the memory of an elephant, and had loathed him heartily ever since. In comparison, he found Lennon to be a likable young man. He could not see exactly how he lacked in comparison to Shaggs.
“Even so, I will marry Cynthia to him if it’s the last thing I do!” Mrs. Elton thundered, storming off in a huff.
That evening, Mr. Elton was taking his customary stroll when he saw his daughter up ahead, a thunderous expression on her face. He mentally steeled himself, and nervously walked up to her.
“Dear, can you give some suggestions as to what to do? Bob Lester is visiting tomorrow, and we must make it a – ”
“Oh, forget about the critic, Daddy! Is it true what Mummy told me? You’re going to take away my inheritance?”
“Inheritance?”
“Yes! Mummy says that unless I forget Jack you’re going to write me out of your will and give the restaurant and your money to Jimmy – ”
Mr. Elton almost had a heart attack. His beloved restaurant to his clumsy, good for nothing son?
“My dear, I wouldn’t dream of it!” he then burst out.
“Then go and tell Mummy that! Jack is a good man and I love him! I would rather suffer a terrible curse before I leave him for that ignorant man!”
“Tell her that?” he said nervously. A friend of his had compared Mrs. Elton in a bad mood to a raging
dragon, and rightly so. “I don’t know, dear. You know what she’s like when she’s in a bad mood – ”
“Daddy, are you afraid of her?”
“And I have the critic to worry about. Oh, I would give anything to know what he’d like!”
A gleam of inspiration came into his daughter’s eyes. “Daddy, if Jack makes a dish that the critic likes, will
you give him your blessing?”
“My dear, if he succeeds I will marry the two of you myself!”
On the Day of Judgment, the critic came strolling into the restaurant, a lean, drawn man dressed in an
expensive suit. The staff had reserved a table for him, and, as expected, he asked for their specialty. Mr. Elton and all the other chefs were focused only on one dish – Bouillabaisse, a traditional French stew made from fresh fish. Mr. Elton in particular, lavished all his effort and skill on the dish, until it was perfect. He was just about to serve it when he saw his assistant pour in a large amount of various ingredients including tea leaves, sugar and chili powder.
He was shocked. What was the fool doing? He was ruining a traditional French recipe! Mr. Elton could almost imagine the one-star rating, but Lennon had already laid out the stew on a plate and was offering it to him to give to the critic. There was no time to make another dish. He could do nothing but take the dish, serve it to the critic, and pray that he didn’t wet himself.
Mr. Bob Lennon eyed the dish suspiciously, then picked up his spoon and took the obligatory one bite. His eyes widened. Hesitantly, he took a second bite. Then, he dug in with gusto.
The Stew
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