Chapter Text
It was early in the morning and the sun had just risen. Will was already in the restaurant, looking at the shipment they received that night. How fresh was the seafood? How was the distribution of fat in the cuts of meat? It was his favorite time of day. Everything was quiet. Just the sounds of the kitchen working. Beverly was also there, checking the dates of all the food from earlier in the week. The room was filled with the smell of fresh bread. Baked before the chefs had arrived, it was cooling on racks in the back.
They served several signature dishes year-round, but many of the items changed week to week. It was only Thursday and already Will’s mind was working on new dishes. It was turning to fall. He was thinking about how to incorporate acorns and other nuts. More pears and corn. He’d go to the farmers’ market on Monday.
He went to the walk-in and checked the sauces, went downstairs to check the dry-goods, and then came back up to look into if they needed more cut vegetables. As he walked into the main kitchen, he saw Alana, the head pastry chef.
“Good morning, Will,” Alana said as she buttoned her chef’s coat. “How’s everything looking?”
“Good, good,” Will said and nodded. He looked around the kitchen and checked his watch. 8am. Jack would be arriving around 10 for family meal. Still plenty to do until then.
Will moved fluidly around the restaurant. Checking something here, cutting something there. More staff arrived and checked with him or Beverly before going to work in their stations. Jimmy Price, the head sommelier, arrived and ducked into the kitchen to say hello to everyone before going downstairs to check inventory. Will talked with Alana about the accompanying desserts for each meal. The guests could choose individual dishes, or a prix fixe menu, where each course was pre-planned in a fixed order. He and Alana also talked about an up-coming visit to a whiskey distillery they had planned.
“Why wasn’t I invited?” Beverly interrupted.
“The restaurant is footing the bill for Alana and I,” Will said. “Would you like to pay your own $120 ticket?”
“Hmm,” Beverly thought. “Depends on how much booze we get.”
Alana laughed and Will rolled his eyes.
“I’m sure you could get a discount if you asked Jack,” Alana said.
“Eh, but do I really wanna beg?” Beverly said.
Will turned away and focused on sharpening the knives.
Time passed and before Will knew it, Jack, the head manager, had arrived.
“Good morning everyone,” Jack said as he entered the kitchen. A round of ‘good morning’s echoed around the room. Jack walked up to Will. “I’ll be checking in with everyone and then I'll be in the office until the family meal. Do you need anything?”
“I’m good, thanks,” Will told him.
Jack nodded and continued his rounds throughout the kitchen. It took him a while with Beverly as she argued that, as the deputy chef, she should also go to the distillery with Will and Alana. Jack was able to placate her with a promise he would contact the distillery and ask if they could fit her in.
Will roasted chicken and vegetables in the oven as another staff member cooked grits. The food was for the family meal.
The kitchen was loud now with pots and pans moving around, ovens opening and closing, cooks and waiters talking.
It was just a bit past 10:30 when everything was set up for the staff's lunch. Will called to the people working down stairs to come up and eat. He grabbed a plate and sat in the dining room, Alana quickly joining him. Jack and Bedelia came down from the office upstairs together. Will hadn’t realized Bedelia was already at the restaurant. Head of event planning at The Lamb, Bedelia would need to check in with Will to make sure any special dishes requested for an event were ready. Luckily they only did private events during dinner, not lunch. So he had plenty of time to talk to Bedelia later.
Once everyone was seated, Jack stood and rubbed his hands together, preparing to speak.
“Normal lunch shift, nothing crazy. 47 reservations with probably a few walk-ins. We have a five top at 1:00 and another at 1:30,” Jack said. Abigail, the hostess, stood next to Jack and held the iPad with all the reservation notes. Jack continued: “We do have a private event this afternoon. A birthday party for a woman turning 85. There's also a few notes on some standard reservations. A few birthdays, an anniversary, and I believe a family celebration?” He turned and looked at Abigail to confirm.
She nodded quickly. “Yes, they're celebrating their daughter graduating from medical school,” she said.
“Wonderful,” Jack said, turning back to the staff. “But, we'll be able to go over all that again after lunch.” He thought for a moment if there was anything else, before remembering: “Oh, and everyone please double check the allergy cards on the reservations. We have a few listed for lunch.” There were some mumbles of acknowledgement from the staff.
“Anything else anyone would like to add?” Jack asked, looking around at the staff. Will finished chewing his bite and stood up.
“We are running low on the salmon,” Will said. “Once we're out, we're out, so if the waiters could inform the kitchen verbally when we have an order, that'd be appreciated.” The wait staff nodded. “Also,” Will said and sighed, “People have been ordering pop-overs off the menu. Apparently it's going around as a “secret menu” option. So don't be surprised if you get an order, we've prepared some batter already just in case,” Will finished and sat back down.
“Damn Freddie Lounds,” Beverly said, several people laughing. Freddie Lounds was a local food critic who enjoyed belittling restaurants and trying to get people the “inside scoop” on food deals. This had led to multiple incidents of people asking for secret menu items they didn't have, or trying to substitute items in dishes to create a “food hack” recommended by Freddie. It was a pain in the neck.
Jack refused to ban Freddie from eating at the restaurant, no matter how many times Will had asked.
Jack pointed to Beverly. “That reminds me, we have a famous critic coming tomorrow night. Hannibal Lecter. He's pretty important, so we'll have to be at our best.” Some of the staff nodded and looked at each other, recognizing the name. Will had no clue who this man was. He didn't enjoy reading most food critics, unless they were reviewing food outside of the U.S.. He especially never read reviews about The Lamb. It made him sick with anxiety. He let Jack read the reviews and report back what they said.
“Does he have to come when we're at our busiest? I thought critics liked calm,” Will said sarcastically.
“I believe he wanted to come on a Friday to see us at our peak,” Jack said, giving Will a look.
Will just shrugged and took another bite of his food. With the end of Jack's little speech, everyone started talking among themselves. Will checked his phone. It was 11:15. 45 minutes until they opened for lunch. He googled Hannibal Lecter. The man had a Wikipedia page. Will rolled his eyes. He clicked the link and read.
Hannibal was 43, originally from Lithuania and part of an old money family. He had gotten a doctorate in art history in Florence, Italy, where he had, according to Wikipedia, “discovered his passion for food”. He had traveled quite a bit, working for various magazines and papers, while also running his own website. Will clicked the link to the website. It had an about section, a list of recommendations for places to eat in various cities, and a list of articles he had written and where to find them. Will felt it was a bit pretentious, but was happy to find Hannibal wrote about himself very plainly. Noting how he felt very lucky to have been able to travel and work while indulging in one of his favorite interests: cooking and cuisine. Hannibal also worked appraising artworks when he wasn’t on contract as a food critic. Will thought it sounded like a pretty nice life, surrounded by food and art.
Will clicked on a review Hannibal had posted a couple months ago. Hannibal seemed to know what he was talking about. Usually food critics got under Will’s skin, but Hannibal was a good writer. He was detailed when describing the meals and what he liked/didn’t like about them. He also spoke highly of the staff, which Will was happy to read. Food critics could often be quite dismissive to wait staff.
Will read the conclusion of Hannibal’s review: “Ultimately, this was a meal that left a favorable impression. While not groundbreaking, each dish was executed with care and precision. The flavors were well-balanced, and the technique was evident in every bite. The service was attentive, and the ambiance struck the right tone of refinement without being overbearing. While the experience may not have been daring, it was certainly satisfying, and I could easily see myself returning for a reliably enjoyable meal. An admirable experience, if not one to linger in the memory for long.”
Will huffed. Maybe this guy was full of himself after all.
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Lunch service went well. As things were winding down Will took a moment to look through the doorway from the kitchen to the dining room. Only a couple of tables left. He used a napkin to wipe the sweat from his brow and then threw it in the dirty pile. It was 3:40. At 4:00 they closed and prepared for dinner service, which began at 6:00 and ended today at 10:00. On the weekends they stayed open until 11:30.
He went back into the kitchen and checked everything was alright with the staff as they cleaned up. He helped put certain foods away and restock others. Lunch service was fairly casual, cheaper and simpler than dinner.
After the last customers walked out, Abigail waited a moment before closing and locking the door. She then began to double check the reservations for that night for any details to tell Jack or Will.
The staff took a small break in-between shifts, several of them taking off their aprons and going outside to smoke. Will continued to go around the kitchen several more times before he was satisfied. Finally taking off his apron and walking over to the back of the kitchen. That was where Alana’s station was, along with the other dessert chefs. Will crossed his arms and watched as Alana organised some edible flowers they’d be using tonight on the desserts. She finished and breathed a sigh. She turned and smiled at Will. She then moved to reach into a small container, pulling out some caramels.
“The first batch was a little too crunchy,” She said, handing Will some. “So be careful how you bite into it.”
Will smiled. “Thank you,” he said, and popped a caramel in his mouth.
Alana finished putting everything away and took off her apron, setting it down on the counter. She and Will walked out to the dining room, where Beverly was already seated and waiting. A couple waiters milled about, cleaning and rearranging things. The three chefs sat at the table eating some bread, cheese, and fruit as they discussed the plans for that evening.
There was a knock on the door. It was Brian Zeller, the bartender. During lunch Jimmy and the wait staff handled all of the drink orders, but at dinner the drink menu expanded to have more cocktails and crafted drinks. Abigail opened the door and let Brain in. He walked over and said hello to the three of them before heading to the bar to get everything ready.
More staff and waiters arrived. Dinner service could be three times as busy as lunch, being so much longer. So extra hands were needed.
Bedelia arrived and sat with Will and the others. She went over the plan for the private event. Luckily for them the group had decided to pre-plan their meals, meaning the kitchen just had to wait until the group was seated and they could start cooking.
“They decided to bring their own birthday cake, which I informed Alana about earlier,” Bedelia said. Alana nodded in confirmation. “So there will be the cheese course, then the cake will be brought up and sliced, then the petit fours and coffee for anyone who wants it.” Bedelia finished.
“Any children in the group?” Will asked. It was difficult to serve young children as they were typically picky eaters.
“No. I believe the youngest in their group is 19,” Bedelia said.
Will nodded. “Good,” he said.
They continued to talk about the menu, then Bedelia changed the subject.
“Will, do you have any plans for the critic that’s coming tomorrow?” she asked. “Hannibal Lecter?”
“No,” Will said. “He can order off the menu whatever he wants.”
Bedelia raised an eyebrow.
“Did he say in the reservation he needed something specific?” Will asked.
“I don’t think so,” Bedelia answered. “But he is an important critic. When he comes he’ll probably be expecting a meal already planned for him.”
Will frowned. He knew that was pretty standard. If a critic lets you know they’ll be coming by, as a chef you get the opportunity to build a meal specifically for them. It was an opportunity to showcase your skills as a cook. If they truly wanted an unbiased service, the critic wouldn’t announce their arrival.
“I’ll think about it,” Will finally said. Bedelia conceded, she knew Will could be a bit stubborn.
“I have some dishes I’ve been wanting to try,” Alana said. “Just let me know your plans, Will.”
“Alright,” Will said. He picked up a piece of cheese and ate it.
The staff was starting to fill the dining room. It was time for the pre-dinner meeting. Jack stood before them and talked, making sure each group of waiters knew their assigned sections. Briefing everyone again on the special occasions for that night. Bedelia talked to the wait staff assigned to the private birthday party.
Once Jack and Bedelia were finished, Will stood up to talk. He went over the menu for that night. What the specials were and the “pop-over” situation. After he was done he looked to Beverly to see if there was anything she wanted to add. She got up and talked about the importance of practicing fundamentals. Whether it be drizzling sauce on top of something, or adding a dollop of mousse to the plate, it needed to be even and uniform. She said she’d be checking everyone’s techniques during down time. Will could hear a couple people quietly groan.
Beverly turned the focus onto Jimmy. He talked a bit about the wine pairings for the different menu options, and what the substitutions were if the person didn’t like the first choice.
“And remember, it’s okay to say you don’t know. Let me be the one to answer any dumb questions like: exactly how many days a wine was fermented for, or if the soil was alkaline or acidic.” Jimmy said. A couple people laughed.
After Jimmy finished talking, Jack opened the discussion to the entire staff. A waitress raised her hand.
“Is it true Hannibal Lecter will be here tomorrow?” she asked. She hadn’t been part of the lunch staff.
“Yes,” Jack confirmed. “The food critic Hannibal will be here tomorrow. But we’ll treat him to the same fine-dining service we provide any other customer.”
Will was officially sick of hearing this guy’s name.