FEAST

Course 4

“The chef wanted me to let you know that it would be about five minutes until the next course was ready,” I announced to Drew and Laylah upon my return outside.  A quick glance before I slid the door open told me that no one was talking at the moment, so I didn’t feel the need to wait to share the information I had been given.

Laylah thanked me as she and Drew stood.  As I stepped from the warm house into the much cooler evening air, I noticed that everyone seemed slightly more at ease, and I surmised that whatever Laylah had been saying as I went inside calmed things down a bit.  I made a mental note to ask Dara what went on while I was in the house.  Laylah and Drew disappeared inside after gathering our plates.

“Did you find the bathroom okay?” Dara asked, leaning behind Aaliya to look at me.  I could tell by her voice that she was making polite small talk in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Yeah,” I responded, “one of the assistants in the kitchen helped me out.”

“Oh, you got to meet Chef’s assistants?  That’s so neat, Abs!  Was the chef in the kitchen, too?”

“I didn’t see him,” I replied.  “Or, at least I don’t think I did.  There were six people in the kitchen but none of them looked to be the chef.”

“I’m rather amazed any of Chef’s assistants had the time to stop and give you directions,” Aaliya commented.

“That’s just like the people who work for Chef A.  They always make time for people.”  Aholien was actually looking at Aaliya when he spoke which took me by surprise.  It seemed to surprise Aaliya as well because she opened her mouth to continue, noticed Aholien looking at her and closed her mouth, remaining silent.

“Do you know many of them well?” I found myself asking Aholien.

He gave a small nod.  “A lot of us have been friends for many years.”

“Did you meet them through school, like Dara?”

“No, I met the majority of them through my parents.  My father, mostly.  I got to know them when Chef A took me on as a sous chef.”

I felt rather than saw the looks of astonishment from Dara and Aaliya.  Dara leaned forward in excitement while Aaliya sort of slumped back in her chair.

“You’ve actually worked with him?  That is so incredible!”  Dara could hardly contain herself.

“Well, I’ve never worked with him directly,” Aholien acknowledged, “I’ve been apprenticed to his top sous chefs.”

“What’s it like?  Are they easy to work with?  I always thought they would be based on the one who came to Culinary Virtuosity.  But to work with them and be able to learn from them every day—wow!  It’s basically like learning from the chef and working with him every day!”

Aholien smiled at Dara.  “I don’t get to work with them every day.  Chef A has so many excellent sous chefs and apprentices.  But it has been an incredible privilege to learn from him through his assistants.  And watching some of them is truly a revelation.  They’re masters in their own right.”

As Dara sat lost in thought about the wonders of working together with Chef A’s assistants, the sliding glass door opened and out came Drew and Laylah along with two of the assistants I had seen in the kitchen.  All of them had trays with bowls on them, abundant steam rising from each bowl.  These bowls were somewhat larger than the soup bowls we’d had earlier, and they had those spoons that look like small bowls at the end of a handle in them.  I watched as they deftly set the bowls down in front of us.  I was pretty sure if I’d tried to serve, someone would have ended up with third-degree burns.

Drew and Laylah handed their trays to the assistants, thanked them, and Drew opened the door so they could return to the kitchen.  I began noticing a distinct smell from my bowl, one I wasn’t familiar with, so I looked at the contents while Drew and Laylah settled themselves at the table.  The first thing that caught my eyes was the half of a hard-boiled egg.  The yellow of the yolk stood out but also complimented the reddish orange hue of the broth it was floating in.  Arranged around the egg were a  piece of chicken and mushrooms, along with long, thin noodles.

“Ah, he made the Fuzhou chicken,” I heard Aholien murmur.  He breathed deeply with his face close to his bowl, his eyes closed.  He lingered that way for a moment and I thought maybe he was praying.

Not wanting to stare overly long, I returned my gaze to my bowl when I noticed there was an additional utensil next to the fork, but not one made of metal.  My heart sank.  Chopsticks.  When did those get put there?  I silently complimented the assistants’ ninja skills while at the same time dreading the inevitable scene of dining ineptitude to come.

I picked up the chopsticks resolutely, determined to face this challenge head on.  I figured the noodles would be the best place to start.  I maneuvered the chopsticks under a few noodles and raised them up only to have them slide back into the bowl with a plop.  Okay, different tactic.  Shovel method.  I dug under a substantial portion of noodles and lifted, figuring that the law of averages was on my side.  At least some of the noodles would have to stay on the chopsticks, right?  Wrong.  This time it was an even bigger plop.

Maybe the noodles would have to wait.  I zeroed in on a large piece of mushroom and managed to get one chopstick above and one below it.  The rubbery texture aided in my effort as it meant that the mushroom didn’t go squishing out from between the chopsticks.  Carefully, carefully I moved the bite towards my mouth.  The mushroom was savory but there was a spiciness to it that didn’t seem to come from pepper, and that smell I hadn’t recognized translated into a flavor that was familiar but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

After success with the mushroom, I managed to get some chicken into my mouth as well and even a few noodles.  I decided to take a chopstick break and spooned some of the broth out of the bowl, pausing to smell it as I had seen Aholien do.  I liked the aroma that met my nose.  There was almost a sweetness to it, and as I sipped the broth, the flavor finally dawned on me.  It was slightly but not unpleasantly yeasty.  The spiciness was still a mystery to me.

I finally managed to reach the bottom of my bowl, all without adding any food as an accessory to my clothes.  Other than a few comments of appreciation for the flavors, most everyone at the table was silent during this course.  A gentle breeze was blowing in a slight smell of rain.  Crickets could be heard adding a counterpart to the music that was once again audible due to the lack of conversation.  I mused briefly on how multiple crickets were a pleasant symphony outside but one cricket was a nerve-fraying irritation inside.

The portions in our bowls weren’t large, but I figured my chopstick inexperience would mean I’d be the last one finished, so I was surprised to see that Drew, Laylah, and Aholien were still eating.  All three but especially Aholien seemed to be relishing every bite.  He was the last one to put down his chopsticks.

“How was it?” Laylah asked Aholien.

He didn’t answer right away, but when he did, it was with a single word.  “Magnificent.”

“Chef was hoping it would please you,” Laylah said, briefly laying her hand on Aholien’s arm.  I was a little surprised that Aholien didn’t react to Laylah’s action.  Based on what I had observed of him, I figured he wasn’t the touchy-feely type, but he seemed not to notice or not to mind.

“How could it not?  What an honor to have Chef prepare something specifically for you.”  It was the first time Aaliya had spoken in a while, and as with almost everything else she’d said so far during the evening, there was a subtle undertone to her comment.

A look passed over Aholien’s face and he said, “It is an honor.  And a comfort.”

Santiago put his hand on his friend’s shoulder and patted it.  Drew bowed his head and Laylah said, “He’s glad it is.”

I looked over at Dara to see if she knew what was going on.  She looked back and lifted her eyebrows ever so slightly.

“Maybe...maybe I’ll go thank the kitchen,” Aholien said and excused himself from the table.  Drew and Laylah watched as he walked into the house.

“Is he okay?”  Dara addressed her question to Santiago.

“Yeah, I—well, I mean, he—well, I don’t know if—” Santiago began.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel comfortable saying anything,” Dara said.

“It’s just, well, he’s kind of a private person and I don’t know—”

Dara put her hands up and made a soothing gesture.  “No, really, don’t worry about it.  I just wanted to make sure he was okay.”

“I have no doubt that he will be,” Laylah said softly.

“Getting the invitation to tonight’s dinner did a lot to lift his spirit,” Santiago offered.  “Gave him something to look forward to at just the right time.”

I was surprised to hear the sliding door opening behind me.  I turned to look, half expecting to see one or more of the chef’s assistants with the next course.  Instead, it was Aholien and he quietly took his place back at the table.

“I apologize,” he said once he’d sat down.

“Are you all right?” my ever-compassionate friend asked.

Aholien looked at Dara and said with the brevity I’d come to appreciate, “Yes and no.”  Seeing the confusion on her face, he inhaled and exhaled rapidly, then continued, “I’m sorry.  I don’t meant to be cryptic.  My parents were killed in a car accident not too long ago.”

Dara rocked forward in her seat, then sat back.  I knew she was torn between wanting to rush over and wrap her arms around Aholien in sympathy and maintaining polite social etiquette.  She settled for saying, “I am so very sorry,” infusing every word with all that she felt.

Aaliya sat motionless with her lips pressed tightly together.

“Thank you.  I really do appreciate it.”  Aholien nodded at Dara.  “And I appreciate Chef A for the chicken.”  He smiled a small, wistful smile as he looked down at his bowl.  “It was the first dish my father taught me to cook.”

“Your dad was a chef, too?” I asked, then thought maybe I shouldn’t have.  Maybe he wouldn’t want to talk about his parents.  Santiago had told us he was a private person, afterall.

“The absolute best.  Second only to Chef A.  In my opinion, anyway,” answered Aholien.  He looked glad to be talking about his father.

“I think Chef just might agree with your assessment,” Drew smiled.  “Your father was definitely one of a kind.”

Aholien gave Drew an appreciative look.

“I remember the first time I tasted his version of Fuzhou chicken,” said Santiago after a moment.  “I thought it was incredible.  I didn’t think I liked ginger, but boy, was I surprised when I tasted your dad’s Fuzhou.”

So that’s what the spiciness was, I thought.  Ginger.

“Potlucks at our church sure improved after you guys started coming there,” Santiago concluded with a grin.

“He enjoyed cooking for the church.  Very much.”

Santiago paused and then started chuckling.  “Remember that time you guys brought guacamole?  Remember Mr. Chuck?”

Aholien’s eyes lit up and he said, “Mr. Chuck was quite a guy.”

“Mr. Chuck was this older guy who went to our church and he always loved potlucks,” Santiago explained to the rest of us.  “I’m not sure, but I think he mostly came to church on Potluck Sundays,” he mused.  “Anyway, this one time Aholien’s dad made some crazy good guacamole and Mr. Chuck took one look at it and said really loud, ‘What’s that green stuff?  I ain’t eatin’ any’a that green stuff!’  I thought my mom was gonna deck him.”  He paused as if seeing the scene play out in front of him.  “But your dad, man, he was right there, calming everything down.  Do you remember what he said to Mr. Chuck?  ‘Sometimes I prefer—’ ”

“ ‘—less colorful food, too,’ ” Aholien finished with Santiago.

“That was your dad all over.  Treated everyone with respect no matter what,” said Santiago.  “I used to love going over to your house.  Being around your parents—they were always so great to each other.  And you could tell it wasn’t just because they had company.”

I looked at Aholien, wondering if it was uncomfortable for him to be remembering his parents in front of three strange women.  I figured it probably wasn’t that bad with Drew and Laylah because he seemed to know them pretty well, and obviously he wouldn’t have a problem with Santiago.  I tried to do my best impression of a fly on the chair.

“I’m sorry,” Aholien said suddenly as his eyes flicked across the table at us.  “I’m sure you didn’t come to Chef A’s house to hear about my troubles.  We can talk about something else.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Dara said quickly.  “I mean, oh, that probably sounded bad.  I just—if you need to talk, that’s okay, is all.  Sometimes talking helps.”

I knew my sweet friend meant well, but I wanted to remind her that talking is not therapeutic to everyone.  We’d had that discussion many times before.  I tried to lean forward a little and catch her eye, hoping she would get my meaning.  Before I could get her attention, though, she continued, “But if you’d rather not, that’s okay.  You don’t really know the three of us, afterall.”  I leaned back in my chair.

“Thank you.  Sometimes it does help to remember them out loud.  They were the best parents I could have ever hoped for.”  Aholien’s face clouded for a moment and I thought he might have to excuse himself again, but he went on, “They were remarkable people.”

I sat thinking about his statements for a minute.  I tried to remember the last time I’d heard anyone say something positive about their parents and I was a little shocked to realize that I couldn’t remember a single time.  Most of the people I knew, including myself, had grown up with varying versions of the Queen in Snow White for mothers and either Heathcliff or Homer Simpson for fathers.  Being the somewhat cynical person I am, I half-wondered if Aholien’s perception of his parents was at least slightly clouded by his grief.  Atticus Finch simply didn’t exist.

Laylah grabbed Aholien’s hand and squeezed.  “Perhaps you’d like to help us clear the dishes and get ready for the next course?”

Aholien looked up at Laylah gratefully and gave a small nod.  Wordlessly, they stood and began to move around the table, gathering the bowls.  Drew joined them as they started towards the door.  I kept my eyes down until I heard the door slide open, then I leaned forward and looked at Dara.  Her eyes were liquid with tears.  I gave her what I hoped was an encouraging smile, then sat back in my chair.  I thought once more about Aholien’s parents and wondered if grief was greater when the person you lost was genuinely good.