A/N: HI! Remember me? Your missing-in-action garden gnome?
I've had trouble with inspiration for the other stories (which I will finish, I promise!), but came up with a new (maybe not so new ) idea that might be interesting, should you choose to keep reading. You can all let me know, anyway, as I know you will...
I won't say anymore, and just let you read it!
On with it, then...
Disclaimer: I do not own skins. And apparently Australia really sucks at cricket this week. Not that I care, much. Any and all typos are a total lie.
(Naomi POV)
I'm finding it hard to concentrate, looking at all this local produce.
It's hard not to, when you are faced with all the colour of browsing through the markets and yet, you're also trying to pay attention to a fat, balding middle aged man ranting at you in thick, Italian accented pseudo-English.
"Tomatoes. You want to buy?" I roll my eyes, and point at a bunch of basil instead. "Ah, si, si... Basilico. Anything else?"
"Erm..." I consulted my list. "Garlic." I say, looking around and then pointing to the garlic.
"Eh...how many?" I mutter something under my breath and hold up two fingers. "Due, si..." He said, filling another paper bag with two bulbs of garlic.
"And a dozen peaches." I said.
"Cosa?" He asked, looking at me quizzically.
I pointed to the peaches. "Peaches! Erm... Dodici."
"Si, si..." He nodded, selecting twelve peaches and placing them into a bag.
"That's it." I said. "Er...quanto?"
He calculated the cost on his little solar powered calculator and then showed me the cost, and I fished in my purse for a twenty pound note, handing it over.
He smiled at me in that jolly way he has, and handed my change over, along wi my purchases in a plastic bag. "Grazie...your Italian improving, Miss Naomi."
I gave him a smile. It was hard not to like the man, in spite of his broken English. "Thank you, Luigi. Your English can always improve." I said, unable to resist the snarky comeback.
He laughed, from deep within his belly. "I do try, darling, I do try." He said. "Same time domani?"
"Domani, yes." I said, giving him a wave as I left.
It was seven in the morning already, and I needed to be back at the restaurant by at least eight. The man would be in anytime after eight thirty, him being the lazy sod who always slept in and left me and the others to do all of the produce shopping for the day, breezing in sometimes as late as ten, and expecting everything to be ready for him to work his magic. If he wasn't such a fantastic chef, and a good friend, I'd have got rid of him ages ago.
But, where was I? Oh, yes... Walking into the café just at the edge of the markets to pick up some coffee to replenish the restaurant supply. Not the stuff we sold to the customers (most of whom couldn't tell good proper coffee if it bit them on the arse) that was delivered by truck, but for the staff. We used to have a guy work with us, who swore by the special blend a particular café did, and got us all to try it. Most of us being high caffeine consumers, we relished to try a replacement for the coffee that he deemed toxic swill. Well, it was more a heated argument between him and the man, which ended in a tersely worded "Well, if you're so fed up with the fucking coffee, YOU sort it!"
So, he did, and no one complained.
The man? That's my devoted partner James. It wasn't that I didn't love him. I do, really. But...more as a friend than a lover, I think, and certainly not as spouse material. I'm not even sure I want to be married to anyone, I mean...it's not like I had a great role model in that respect, what with my mother living this oddly bohemian lifestyle for as long as I can remember, right down to shagging my politics teacher, and laughing off my horrified expression with something reminiscent of "What? Live and love, darling, you never know how long we have on this beautiful earth!"
It didn't help that I was cringing big time, trying to avert my eyes because she was standing in the kitchen naked at the time...bloody nudists.
"Next please!" I hear, from the counter.
"Large double-shot latté to go, one sugar and a kilo of the house blend, ground. Fine espresso grind, please." I rattle off, not even looking up from my phone as I check my messages.
"Erm...sorry...what?" A husky voice asks me. I look up into a pair of warm brown eyes, framed in a cute face with an adorable button nose, looking at me with a nervous, quizzical expression.
"Large...double-shot...latté. One sugar. A kilo of house blend, fine...espresso...grind." I repeat, slower. "Sorry, was I too fast for you?"
She stared at me with an apologetic blush. "Sorry, first day, that's all."
Piero, the man who runs the café appears. "Everything ok?" He asks the girl.
"Yeah, I can handle the coffee, but..."
"Hi, Naomi." He says, greeting me with a smile.
"Piero." I nod. "Just after the usual kilo."
"Right." He turns to his employee. "I'll handle the beans, you get the coffee, yeah?"
"Can I trust her with my coffee?" I asked, sarcastically.
Piero laughed. "I wouldn't have hired her if she wasn't trained, Naomi." He said, making his way to the grinder. "One kilo, coming up."
It only ever took Piero less than five minutes to grind up a kilo bag of our favourite brew, and meanwhile, the newbie set about making my coffee, as I watched her. She seemed to do it effortlessly enough, tamping down the grind and then attaching the group head to the espresso machine and sliding a small metal jug beneath it to catch the dripping coffee. While that was happening, she took one large paper cup and tore open a single-serve packet of raw sugar. How did she...?
"There you go, Naomi. One kilo, fine espresso. Usual price." Piero said, and I handed over the last twenty quid I had on me, which covered both the bulk coffee, as well as my latté, which the new girl had finished making, and placed on the counter.
"Your coffee." She said, with a shy, nervous smile.
"Thanks." I said, giving it a quick stir with one of the Popsicle sticks and then grabbing a lid. She stared at me, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as I secured it. "Gotta run. I'll let you know tomorrow how it is, newbie...if you survive your first day." I smirked. "Thanks Piero, see you later."
I left the café and started to make my way to work, dodging morning commuters as I walked up the street, block by block, until I reached the alleyway that I always turned into every morning, going to open the first door...and finding it locked.
"Fucking great. First here, again?" I muttered, putting down my shopping and reaching into my pocket for my keys, slipping the one for the door into the lock and unlocking it. The bloody phone was already ringing, and I quickly placed the shopping onto the bench, and then picked the phone up off the wall.
"Good morning, this is Campbell's, how can I help you?" I said, brightly.
"Naoms." A slightly bored sounding voice replied.
"Effy? Where the hell are you? No one's here." I asked.
"Shit." She replied.
"Yeah, exactly. We've got to get started if we're going to open for lunch, for fuck's sake." I said. "I've only just got here, and I've got to get the pasta sauce started, before-"
"Where's Cook?"
I scoffed. "You know what he's like, rarely rolls out of bed before nine." I said.
"Right." She said. "Well, I'm on my way now. Should be there in ten."
"Good. I haven't got time to ring around the other staff, can you..."
"Consider it done, Naoms. I'll even call that man of yours and wake him up." I could hear the smirk in her voice. Cheeky bitch...
"Yeah, well... Good luck with that. If you can get a hold of him, tell him he's this close to being fucking sacked." I said, hanging up the phone.
James Cook, utter twat, good shag, great chef and a heart of gold beneath all his bravado, but a fucking lousy timekeeper. As for the rest of the staff...
"Hi, Naomi!" A cheery voice said, as a bouncing blonde came into the back door.
"Panda, thank fuck! You're late." I said, looking at her sternly.
"I know, blimey, traffic was horrible!" She said, taking an apron from the hook and tying it around her body. "What needs doing first?"
"Spaghetti is the dish of the day, so I need onions, carrots and celery, two kilos of each." I said. Start with the onions, the meat delivery should be here-" I heard a beep from outside. "Right about now." I said, going outside to greet them. It was usually me who signed for the morning meat delivery, and today was no exception. The driver handed me the clipboard. "Hi, just inside on the bench, thanks." I said, looking over the delivery order.
Once that was taken care of, I went back inside and picked up my coffee, taking a long sip of the warm liquid. Oh, it was good and strong, just how I liked it, right down to the sugar choice. Perhaps the new girl at the café could handle it after all? No time right now to think about her, though, I had a two kilos of meat to mince up, didn't I? I donned an apron, and as I was just starting to get mincing, one Elisabeth Stonem breezed in the doorway, as effortless as ever.
"Freddie's not coming in, said something about having a bug and didn't want to infect the customers. And Cook is on his way." She said, with an air of accomplishment.
"Freds is sick AGAIN?! Fuck's sake." I scowled.
"Now now, Naoms... No scowling, the wind will change."
"Oh shut up, you." I said, as the phone started to ring again. "Oh, get that will you? This beef and pork won't mince itself."
Effy was my business partner and front-of-house. Not that Campbell's was exactly a five star place, but it was still decent, above greasy spoon, pub-grub sort of fare. Home style was the sort of thing I went for. Food like your mother used to make, and none of that overly snobbish MasterChef shite. Good, comforting food at a reasonable price. The menu changed every day, and today was our Italian day, so it was spaghetti bolognese served with Parmesan and crusty bread, or if you were vegetarian, spaghetti alla puttanesca, and a selection of pizzas and bruschetta available for the lunch service. For the dinner service, a selection of antipasti, a lamb stew with garlic and tomato, or steak with pesto and freshly cooked vegetables, and then a choice of decadent tiramisu or peaches and ice cream for dessert. Plus the usual things, coffee, tea, what have you.
I always liked to keep the menu as simple as possible, choosing dishes that were classic flavours, and things that people would come back for. It worked, and while we certainly were not the most popular restaurant in London, we had been doing a solid trade for the past few years, enough to pay the rent, wages and other bills and have some left over, anyway.
Just as I was done mincing, he finally breezed in the door. I switched the mincer off, and took the tray of mince and placed it into the fridge. "What fucking time d'you call this, then?" I asked, looking at the clock, seeing that it was nearly nine.
"Oi, I'm here, ain't I?" Cook grinned.
I picked up a large carving knife and waved it in his direction. "You're lucky I need you, we're down one today, Freddie called in sick."
"Again?" He said, as he put on an apron.
"Yep. Now, we need dough for the pizzas, so that's your station for now, then when that's done, we need grated cheese, mozzarella and Parmesan. I'm going to get started on the sauce for the pasta...Panda? How are you doing with those veggies?"
"Almost done, boss!" Panda piped up.
"Great. When you're done with that, I'll need two kilos of tomatoes, diced, seeds removed and strained...I want all that juice, but no seeds, got it? I'll handle the garlic."
"Right, Naomi!"
"Désolée, sorry I'm late, Naomi, traffic was terrible." A soft French voice reached my ears as one of my other chefs, Thomas, entered via the back door.
I held my hand up. "Save it, we're short staffed. Cream...one litre whipped to stiff peaks, and then get started on the marscapone meringue for the tiramisu. Alright, people, let's get to it." I said, quickly clapping my hands together.
I made my way to the food processor and began peeling the bulbs of garlic that I'd bought, separating the cloves out. After whizzing them up to a deliciously fine pulp, and enjoying the heady aroma of it, I put it into a container, and measured out a large spoonful into the big sauce pot with some olive oil, and tossed in a kilo of finely diced onions, adding a dash of salt and pepper. Once that had all softened, I tossed in the carrot and celery and set the pan to a low heat for the mirepoix to soften a little. I looked up to see Effy standing at the door.
"What is it?" I asked, raising my eyebrow.
"Two of the waitstaff called in." She said.
"Fuck!" I groaned. "I know it's a Monday, but does EVERYONE have to be sick or hungover?!" Effy shrugged at me. I huffed. "Alright...call from the casual list, but NOT Karen. Fucking bitch is useless. If you can't get anyone, you'll just have to chip in."
"Delightful." She smirked.
"Sorry, Eff. You know everyone works around here."
"I know... I'm sure I can plaster on my winning smile." She said, turning to leave the doorway.
"Trouble, Naomikins?" Cook asked, sidling up to me and giving me a kiss on the cheek.
I nudged him. "Don't you start, you're still on my shitlist for being late." I scoffed. "How's the dough coming?"
"Along nicely., babe...just like you were last ni-" I slapped him on the arm, hard. "OW!" He laughed.
"James, I am serious, you are trying my patience with this rocking up late every day shit. Consider it a verbal warning."
"Nah, you need me, princess!" He said, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Lies, you're easily replaceable. Get back to the dough, I don't want it over mixed." I said, shoving him in the direction of the mixer, as I gave the vegetables another stir. "Spread the word, guys! Lateness on a Monday will no longer be tolerated, except in the case of genuine traffic problems. If you're rostered on, I expect you to be here by EIGHT...SHARP! There are casuals on the list who have shown their worth, and I won't hesitate to fire anyone and replace them for continued lateness. We all work as a team, and if we're short, it's harder on everyone else." I said, banging the wooden spoon on the side of the pot. "Right, end of speech, get on with it!"
I went into the store room and pulled out four bottles of home made passata, noting that I would have to come in on Sunday and make another large batch, then aced the four bottles by the large gas range where the veggies were bubbling away in the sauce pot. I then went over to see how Panda was getting on with the tomatoes. She was almost done, the juices having dropped into the tray below the holes of the cutting board. "Good job, Panda. Listen, I've got to make some passata this Sunday, can you come in and give me a hand?" I asked, finishing the last of my almost cold coffee.
"Sure, that'd be whizzer!" She grinned, as she chopped up the last tomato.
"Great. Ok, you know what to do now, strain the pulp through the sieve, and I'll get started on browning the meat."
About half an hour later, I was tumbling the tomatoes into the pot, as well as the passata, bottle by bottle. A good heaped spoonful of tomato paste and a handful of mixed herbs, and I set the sauce to simmer, the kitchen already smelling delicious. "Smoko, chef?" I heard Cook ask.
I shook my head. "Not for you. I need a kilo and a half of pasta dough done up...now." Cook groaned. "Hey, I was here before eight, where the fuck were you?" I sneered. "GET ON IT!"
He held his hands up. "Ok, ok! Christ, don't get your knickers in a knot, babe!"
I wiped my hands off and went to check the reservations book. We took bookings for dinner every night, but lunch was a come-as-you-are affair. "How are we going for tonight's bookings, Eff?" I asked.
"We've got five so far, one of which is a party of ten." She replied.
"Oh wonderful." I said. "Alright, I'll be in my office for the next half hour, I've got to call the accountant and make up the menu for tomorrow. Any problems, give me a shout."
"Right, Naoms."
"Oh...how are we for staff?"
"Three casuals for lunch, and they've agreed to stay on for dinner. And I'll chip in, too." She said.
I smiled, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "You're a life saver, thanks Eff." I said, making my way into the office, and shutting the door behind me.
A/N#2: What do you think? Fancy reading a bit more? Let me know!
Cheers,
~GN~ xo