Chapter 1

Posted: September 07, 2009 - 01:55:17 pm

Everyone knows that a classroom is a room filled with nice little desks arranged in rows facing a whiteboard. Everyone knows that the instructor stands at the front of the room to present a lecture that numbs brains while assuming that knowledge is being conveyed. Everyone knows that; but then again, everyone can be wrong. Not all classrooms are like that.

An exception to the classroom norm was the classroom of a very exclusive culinary arts institute located in New Orleans. Entrance into this school practically required that the person was born in a kitchen. It required that the student had already worked six years in a five star restaurant and be nominated for a seat in the class by the head chef of the restaurant. The training goal was to take a good chef and produce a great chef; one that could produce a great recipe at the drop of a chef’s hat.

The rattle of pots and pans filled the air in a cacophony of sound that only someone born into a kitchen could love. The youngest woman in the room hummed happily while putting the finishing touches on her very first cooking assignment. The first assignment had been a surprise to all of the students gathered there. The expected assignment for a pastry challenge would have been a dessert, but that would have been too obvious. This assignment had been to create a pastry hors dourve.

Chef Rupert, the instructor, shouted, “Time is up. Bring your dish here.”

The young woman carried her dish to the front of the room confident that it would be the best one presented. She set her creation on the table and stood behind it waiting for the rest of the class to arrive. A young man stepped up next to her and set his dish down beside hers. She frowned upon seeing that he had made an identical dish to hers. She crossed her arms to keep from exploding. He looked over at her appreciatively and smiled at her while wiggling his eyebrows.

Chef Rupert walked along the table examining and tasting the dishes. He made a few comments; pointing out the strengths and weaknesses of each dish. So far the average score was three stars despite the fact that none of the dishes would have been out of place in a four star restaurant. The standards of the school were just a little bit higher than that.

He reached the young woman and noticed her unhappy expression. Assuming that she was not pleased with her dish, he said, “You don’t look happy. What is the matter?”

“He made my dish,” the woman answered giving the young man who stood next to her a look that should have killed him on the spot. The young man’s grin grew even larger.

Chef Rupert looked at the young man and asked, “Why are you smiling?”

“I like the way she has her arms crossed. It is like she’s putting her breasts on a shelf to be admired and you’ve got to admit she’s packing some mighty fine breasts,” the young man answered. Every female in the room turned to glare at him.

Chef Rupert rubbed his forehead and said, “You must be Mark O’Toole.”

“That’s right,” Mark answered proudly.

“Oh god, not an O’Toole,” one of the female students moaned. “I want my money back.”

Mark leaned forward to look at the woman who had complained. He said, “Don’t worry sweetie, you’re safe from me. I’m going to marry this luscious dish standing next to me.”

“Thank God.”

The young woman looked at Mark as if he was insane. His comment about her breasts had rendered her speechless. Stunned at his audacity, she managed to croak, “What?”

Chef Rupert looked at the young woman and said, “Take my advice and quit now while you can. You really should consider changing your name and going into hiding. You might get away for a year or so before he finds you.”

“Never,” the young woman said.

Chef Rupert said, “Well, Miss O’Toole...”

“My name is Molly Andrews.”

Mark said, “Not for very much longer.”

“Stop staring at my breasts,” Molly said in a low growl.

“I will as soon as you stop displaying them so attractively,” Mark said.

Putting her hands on her hips, Molly said, “I’m going to cut off your balls, saute them, and feed them to you.”

The woman who had spoken earlier said, “She would be better off killing him outright. A life sentence in prison has to be better than being married to an O’Toole.”

“You even talk like an O’Toole woman,” Mark said.

“I hate you,” Molly said.

Mark said, “That is a perfectly fine way to start a relationship.”

“Argh!”

Ignoring the exchange, Chef Rupert examined the two dishes in front of him. He said, “This is rather remarkable. The presentations are identical.”

“Great minds think alike,” Mark said while taking one of her hands in his.

“Don’t touch me,” Molly said pulling her hand out of his. She backed away from him.

Chef Rupert tasted each dish. Stepping back he rubbed his chin while considering the two dishes. Finally, he said, “Molly, your raspberry sauce is just a little sweeter than his. I really can’t tell which I like more. Your sauces bring out different flavors in the brie.”

“She’s a lot sweeter than I am,” Mark said. Seeing the glare she gave him, he added, “You can tell just by looking at her.”

“You both get three stars,” Chef Rupert said.

“Three?” Mark said insulted by the low score.

“Three?” Molly echoed.

“Originality,” Chef Rupert said with a grin.

“I’ll use his intestines for sausages.”

“She must really love me.”

Stepping back from the table, Chef Rupert said, “For tomorrow’s assignment, you will prepare a five course meal using a cheese theme. Every dish must contain cheese as an ingredient. You will work in a team of two. Mark O’Toole will be teamed with Peter Chang. Molly O’Toole...”

“My name is Molly Andrews.”

“ ... will be teamed with Ellen Maples.”

Mark leaned over to Molly and said, “I wouldn’t go with Chicken Kiev if I were you. Everyone is going to make that as their main dish.”

“Don’t talk to me,” Molly said. She wasn’t going to admit that dish was the first one that came to mind. She had learned a very nice variation of Chicken Kiev at the place where she had worked before coming here.

Having finished cleaning her cooking station, Ellen went over to her partner’s cooking station to begin planning for the next assignment. Seeing Molly scrubbing her baking pan furiously, she said, “I don’t know whether to congratulate you or offer you my condolences.”

Without looking up, Molly said, “That man is insufferable.”

“I know, but he’s a good chef,” Ellen said.

“How do you know that?” Molly asked.

“He’s an O’Toole. At least fifty of the five star restaurants have an O’Toole working in them. I know of ten five star restaurants that are owned by O’Tooles,” Ellen said.

“I don’t care, he is insufferable,” Molly said.

“We’ve got to plan our menu for tomorrow,” Ellen said. She felt that a change in topic was necessary.

“We’ll start off with roasted O’Toole and then move onto baked O’Toole and then we’ll make some...” Molly muttered.

Ellen interrupted, “I’m serious. We need to plan our menu for tomorrow.”

“I’m serious, too,” Molly said. She rinsed off the baking pan and started to dry it.

“The theme is cheese, not O’Toole,” Ellen said.

Molly picked up a sauce pan. She said, “We’ll turn it into a double themed meal.”

“Get serious,” Ellen said. She had a feeling that tomorrow’s meal was going to be a disaster.

“I am,” Molly said. She growled. “ ... packing some mighty fine breasts...”

“He’s right,” Ellen said feeling a little embarrassed. She had always felt a little insecure about her breast size and being around Molly didn’t help any.

“What?”

“If I swung that way, which I don’t, but if I did ... well, I’d be interested,” Ellen said.

Molly looked up at Ellen and asked, “What do you mean?”

“You’ve got impressive breasts,” Ellen said.

Molly examined the sauce pan, saw that it was clean, and started scrubbing it anyway. She grumbled, “I’m only a C cup, okay.”

Shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, Peter Chang said, “I’m afraid that I will not be able to contribute too much to tomorrow’s assignment. Chinese cuisine does not use cheese.”

“That’s okay,” Mark said. He watched Molly working over her sauce pan.

“I just don’t want to be a problem,” Peter Chang said. He hadn’t done too well with the first assignment and he didn’t want to do poorly on this one.