Holiday decorating at the Understudy has officially begun! Santana makes her way through the restaurant skeptically eyeing all the décor. She can definitely tell which is Kurt's and which is Rachel's handy work – both, however, are so over the top that it starts to blend together the longer she stares.
"My God, where did you get all of this stuff?" Santana asks in wonder. "Is there a line of kids wrapped around the building expecting to get their picture taken with Santa? If so, which one of you is dressing up? I suggest Rachel."
"Don't offend me. This is tasteful!" Kurt protests. "At least, this area is. I'll have to make adjustments to Rachel's side."
"You will do no such thing! I am very proud of this," Rachel says. "Look at the lights, it's magical!"
"Yeah. That's probably a fire hazard," Santana mutters at the excessive amount of string lights and garland. It's nice-looking, but entirely too much. Leave it to Rachel and Kurt to show a lack of restraint when it comes to decorating though.
As she travels deeper into the dining room, she can hear Christmas music playing over the sound system. It doesn't really fit their aesthetic and honestly, it's kind of distracting compared to the classical showtunes instrumentals they used to play.
"Who changed the music?" Santana asks when she spots Kurt and Rachel arguing over tinsel.
"I did!" Rachel proclaims. "Don't you love it? I created the playlist myself, I've spent hours handpicking each and every song. I even put them in order!"
"I thought we had the password changed?" Santana asks Kurt.
Kurt shrugs. "We did. She must've cracked the code."
"Rachelsux123 isn't very imaginative," Rachel frowns. "It's also rude."
"You're lucky I didn't go with my first choice," Santana jokes. "I would've probably ended up in HR."
"Well, say what you want but it's Christmas and that means we're playing Christmas music."
"I'm not dissing it; I love my Christmas jams!" Santana replies. "But you couldn't find a better playlist? The last thing anyone wants to hear while they're trying to enjoy a meal is the sound of high-pitched chipmunks."
"Don't worry. I'll fix it when she leaves," Kurt whispers to her.
"Thank you," Santana mouths back.
"This event is going to be spectacular!" Rachel cheers seemingly unfazed by Santana and Kurt. "Marketing has made these cute promos. We're getting in special paper for the menus that are pine scented."
"Scratch and sniff menus? Just when you thought it couldn't get any more festive…"
"Oh yes, Santana. They're also dusted with gold to resemble the flicker of Christmas lights! They're stunning. My dads said they will be sparing no expense!"
"Well, there goes my Christmas bonus," Kurt jokes.
"Yeah, mine too!"
"Well have no fear, we can reuse everything for our staff party!"
"Are we really?" Kurt frowns. "I might have to rethink some things. Are we sold on the placement of the Christmas tree?"
"And on that note, I'm gonna go. It's looking decent though, I trust Kurt will work his magic," Santana continues her way to the kitchen. "I'm going to check on Quinn. Please, don't burn anything down out here. Remember, less is more!"
\\
With the arrival of the new menu, comes the immense pressure to ensure Santana's vision comes to life. So far, she has received raving reviews from the locals – she didn't expect anything less. Her crew is a well-oiled machine and watching them work during the peak of a dinner service rush is better than watching anything on Broadway.
Even Rachel would have to agree with her on that!
Despite the holidays around the corner, there's always a chance that a reviewer or critic will make a surprise appearance so every service has to be flawless. They love sneaking in an attempt to catch her off guard, so the key is to always be ready – consistency equals success.
On a particularly busy night, Santana gets a familiar funny feeling in the pit of her stomach. That funny feeling usually results in a surprise visit so she takes extra care in setting up the Pass and making sure the line chefs are on their A-game. She checks over everything to ensure it's perfect; the acidity level in the beurre blanc, the crispiness of the skin on the tea-smoked chicken, the caramelization on the cauliflower florets.
"We're ready," Quinn assures Santana. "I'll keep an eye on proteins."
"Thanks." Santana moves to the Pass and triple checks her garnish trays one last time before the first docket prints. She pulls it from the printer and reads aloud, "Two gazpacho. One cauliflower. One trout."
"Heard!" The chorus of chefs call back.
Within a few minutes, service truly begins. Santana loves the way the kitchen comes alive with each sound of another docket printed. She thrives in the hustle and bustle even if she only keeps a watchful eye on her team. Standing ahead of them, leading them – she gets such a thrill.
"Santana, there's a VIP requesting to meet you."
Santana looks up from the Pass and finds Kurt lingering by the door hours later. Could this be it? Although, a critic has never requested to meet with her but her Mexican Third Eye would never lead her astray. Then again, she's also too busy to abandon her station just to rub elbows with someone. Her food should speak for itself!
"Is this a reviewer?"
"No, Rachel did this but I think you two would hit it off."
"What?" Santana looks up again. "Are you trying to set me up? Now? Did they even request to see me?"
"Does it matter? Kurt shrugs. "Maybe that's the reason you've been in a mood. You need your motor revved."
"Excuse me?" Santana gasps. Thankfully none of her staff heard his comment, if they did they were very good at hiding it. She calls for Quinn to take her place so she can make the short walk over to him. "My motor is revved each night I stand at that Pass and oversee this service."
"You know what I mean. When's the last time you had a little fun?" Kurt replies. "I'm saying this as a friend. Just take a look. She's gorgeous and sitting alone."
"People do that, it's totally fine going out by yourself. In fact, more people should do it. Besides, I don't know if I trust you after the last time. Your gaydar needs some serious help."
"I'm sure about this one," Kurt says. "No question about it. She's even wearing flannel."
"You can't assume someone's sexuality based on their choice of button-up. You know it's very popular at this time of the year."
"I know and it's heartbreaking but dare I say – she's pulling it off."
Santana would be lying if she wasn't a little intrigued. Not because she's interested in meeting someone new, but because she wants to see who has Kurt complimenting flannel.
"Just come say hi," Kurt coaxes.
Santana looks over at the Pass and finds Quinn easily handling the service. There's actually a lull between dockets so it's the perfect time to make an appearance. She can't believe she's considering it!
"How do I look?" She asks Kurt.
Kurt gives her a once over. "Acceptable given the circumstances. Come on."
The moment Santana's dragged too far from the kitchen to turn back; she digs in her heels.
That's no VIP.
"You've got to be shitting me," Santana mutters beneath her breath.
Brittany looks up from reading the menu and grins. "What's cookin', good lookin'?"
Kurt looks confused but quickly replaces it when they arrive at Brittany's table. "Miss Pierce, this is our Executive Chef Santana Lopez. Chef Lopez, this is – "
"Hi Brittany," Santana greets. She fakes a smile while in the view of other patrons and glances at Kurt. "Kurt…you're fired."
"What? Do you two know each other?"
"Yes," Santana replies.
"Intimately," Brittany says. Her answer nearly sends Santana into a coughing fit, but she miraculously keeps her composure.
"Oh. Well, I'll leave you to it," He says and scurries off.
"What are you doing here?" Santana asks.
"You don't want to talk and you won't have dinner with me so I figured this was the next best thing," Brittany explains.
"Seriously?"
"Totally." Brittany gestures to the empty chair across from her. "You gonna join me?"
Santana can't really run off too so she takes a seat. "I didn't see your name on the bookings for tonight."
"Rachel invited me," Brittany admits. "She said it was a Welcome to the Neighborhood thing but then she didn't show so I'm a little confused. I think I got stood up."
"She's here," Santana says as she checks the time. "Brad should be in at any minute too and Rachel's probably off warming up."
"Who's Brad and what is she warming up for?"
"On Friday nights, Rachel does a performance and you have a front row seat. Brad's her pianist."
"Oh! I thought that was just for decoration," Brittany gestures to the shiny black piano tucked away in the corner of the room. There's lush garland dotted with twinkling lights draped over the top and the bench has been swapped for one with a velvet red cushion.
"Nope. It's apparently a long-standing tradition here. I told her the singing is probably what scared off the customers before I got here but she's convinced she's the reason why they've stayed," Santana explains. "Whatever helps her sleep at night."
"Well, dinner and a show. That's kind of cool," Brittany says. "Do you play any still?"
"With what time?" Santana laughs.
"True. This industry kind of makes it hard to have hobbies."
"That's right." Santana nods to the menu still in Brittany's hands. "Now, are you actually going to order or are you just taking up a table?"
"You're a little rusty on your table service," Brittany teases before tapping her finger on the menu. "I've ordered. The whole town is talking about this. I've always envied how you make a menu. Which dish is your favorite?"
Santana quirks a brow. "Why? Running out of ideas?"
"No, but it would be nice to have someone to bounce idea off of," Brittany explains honestly. "I haven't been feeling very innovative since I've come back."
"So you're here to check out the competition…"
"Sorry to interrupt, Chef. I have your starters." One of the waitstaff appears with two dishes. In one hand, the wagyu tartare with smoked onion emulsion and potato rosti. In the other, the grilled asparagus garnished with a parmesan crisp and beurre blanc. He does well to explain the dishes despite looking a little nervous with Santana in his audience.
"Beautiful. Thank you!" Brittany says politely to him. She waits until the waitstaff leaves before continuing her conversation with Santana. "See? I'm here to be supportive. This is a great looking menu after all and I have been meaning to visit for a while."
Santana nods as she watches Brittany take her first bite.
"Plus, I'm trying to figure out how I can get you to cook with me again."
The comment catches Santana off-guard. "Are you trying to poach me?"
"This place is very nice, very expensive looking, all black everything…" Brittany comments. "But it's not your style. Not anymore, at least."
Santana laughs. "What would you know about my style?"
"Lots!" Brittany says simply before moving to try the other dish. "Maybe I've been gone for a bit but I still know you. This place is like your comfort zone, it's what people would expect from you, which is fine because this is your first Executive position and you're killing it."
"But?"
"But it's kind of pretentious."
Santana scoffs. "Wow. Tell me how you really feel."
"I'm not trying to be rude. I'm sure you see that there's too much technicality for the sake of it. You know, it's too flashy." She points to a line on the menu, "Why does this even need gold leaf? And dry ice? You can't stand chefs who use that."
"You do know the Understudy is a theatre inspired restaurant, right? The flare is the whole point."
"I know, which is cool and unique but it's not you," Brittany says. "You're better than this."
"Well I didn't really have a choice when you left the way you did," Santana replies. "The position that I was offered was already filled so it wasn't like I could go asking for it back so I had to find somewhere else fast. I couldn't be picky."
"I get that. You adapt wherever you are but what if you didn't have to do that?"
Santana eyes her suspiciously. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, I've seen the way you light up on Market Days and being in that atmosphere. It's different working for yourself, you have complete creative control."
"I have that here."
"No you don't. You said it yourself; this place is theater-inspired so you have to hang onto certain elements that fit the theme," Brittany replies. "What if I knew a place where you didn't have to do that? The ingredients and the people who grow them are the only things that matter there."
"Where might that be?" Santana asks. "The restaurant you opened without me?"
Brittany slumps back and groans. "You're gonna be hanging that one over my head for a while, huh?"
"Apologies. Sorry for interrupting again, here is the next course." One wait staff comes around and clears the plates while another presents the dish. "This is lobster with truffle butter, preserved lemon and shell cream orzo."
Brittany smiles as she thanks them but the awkward tension is very much there.
"Britt, you were gone for a year then reappeared with apparently enough money to start a business and now you're trying to poach me to work for you. It's not really something I can get over."
"Will you stop saying it was a year?" Brittany gripes. "It was ten months and fifteen days."
"Does it even matter?"
"Yes, it matters," Brittany says and she actually sounds offended that Santana would think otherwise. "The only thing that made my time away feel less sucky was counting down the days until it was over. That was a really difficult time and I couldn't even talk to you about it. I still can't. So yeah, it matters."
Santana frowns, unsure how to interpret that. Why would she be counting the days? She took that job all on her own, if she didn't want it then why did she go? Why couldn't she talk to her about it? She was angry, but she was still there for her if she needed.
None of it makes sense but sitting in the middle of the restaurant during service isn't really the time nor the place to get into it. Judging by the way Brittany seems to shy away from her now, Santana guesses she isn't the only one who wants to put a pin in this.
"The show is starting soon, I should go ba – "
"Wait." Brittany catches her hand across the table but lets go a split second later. "Don't go yet."
Santana finds herself hesitating.
"It's been a while since I had company during dinner," Brittany mentions. "It's nice, even if we're arguing. If you have to go though, I understand."
Santana shakes her head. Quinn has no problem holding down the fort in her absence, she nailed that long before Santana signed on.
"How does everything taste so far?" She asks in favor of changing the subject.
"Amazing!" Brittany beams. "Not that I expected anything less."
"The dry ice not too pretentious for you?" Santana teases as the smoke of it wafts around the dish.
"I'm sticking by what I said before – the dish really doesn't need it. I get the drama of it all though."
"Good," Santana says while Brittany eats.
They end up sharing the lobster after Brittany makes a comment about how weird it is to be the only one at the table eating. Santana figured she had a point. It's kind of nice sharing a meal together, she hadn't realized she has been eating dinner alone too. Family meal doesn't really count, she mostly picks at her food anyway – but this, having dinner with Brittany, brings back a lot of memories she didn't need.
"Good evening, I'm Rachel Berry."
Santana instantly cringes. "Oh God, here we go…"
"I hope you're all enjoying the fantastic new menu put together by the talented Chef Santana Lopez," Rachel says into the mic. "Where's the spot? Can we get a spot on her?"
"No, no. We don't need a spotli – " Santana's words are cut short when a light shines down on her. The restaurant erupts in applause but Santana can't stand it.
"There she is! The amazing and talented Chef Santana Lopez. Give her a round of applause."
"Smile, San!" Brittany snickers and Santana attempts to force one on. "Try harder, you look like you're in pain."
"That's because I am," Santana quips. "I hate when she does this."
"We're lucky to have you, Chef! Okay, back on me." Rachel calls out and suddenly the light moves on. "Wonderful, thanks. Onto the show! This first song I will be singing is actually going to be a duet. Kurt! Kurt, come out."
"Pretty sure he has already," Santana grumbles beneath her breath.
"I'm here!" Kurt announces as he prances through the restaurant. "I had to get my special mic."
Brittany claps along with everyone else in the room as Kurt joins Rachel over by the piano. "This is so great. Everyone's so committed to the theme!"
"Or they won't let their Broadway dreams rest in peace," Santana comments.
"See? I just know you'd be happier working with me," Brittany teases.
"Another bold statement, but I'm perfectly fine where I am."
"Are you though?"
"I run my own kitchen. I've got top of the line equipment, my Sous Chef is actually competent, and I get a nice paycheck. I'm good."
"So there's no way I could persuade you?"
"Nope." Santana nods to the menu still in Brittany's hands. "What are you thinking for dessert?"
"Miss Maggie has been raving about this galette of yours so I'm curious. You've always struggled with baking. You hate measuring."
"I've learned a thing or two while being out here," Santana counters as she rises from her seat. She gets the feeling that Brittany's doubtful but that only pushes Santana to prove her wrong. Besides, it wasn't that she struggled with it – she just preferred cooking that didn't require being exact about everything. "Anyway, I've got to go but I'll make sure you're well taken care of."
"You always do."
During Rachel's intermission, Santana returns to Brittany's table with a single plate in her hand and a dark cloche sitting atop it. She thought about sending it out with one of the food runners, but where's the joy in that?
Several pairs of eyes gravitate to her as she cuts through the restaurant and heads straight for Brittany. Santana revels in the attention, it'll make the reveal so worth it.
Brittany looks up, intrigued. "You're doing table service now?"
Santana sets the dish down in front of her and lifts the cloche, awaiting Brittany's reaction with this mischievous grin on her face.
"I – oh." Brittany's delight dims. "I don't remember seeing waffles as one of the courses listed on the menu."
"Oh no, I whipped this one up just for you. I know breakfast is your favorite," Santana answers. "Here you have chai-spiced waffles, whipped ricotta sweetened with a little maple syrup and some lemon zest for balance, topped with a mixed berry compote and dusted with freeze-dried mandarin."
Truth be told, Breakfast isn't Brittany's favorite. In fact, she hates anything remotely breakfast related. Pancakes, waffles, cereal, smashed avocado on toast – don't even get her started on her disdain for eggs!
Santana thought it was a little odd when they first began dating, but she gave up on her dreams of being made breakfast in bed nonetheless because Brittany had her reasons. What they were, Santana never got a clear answer on.
"This is…way better than that galette I was so excited to try," Brittany replies through obvious disappointment.
Santana intended to serve Brittany her galette, but then she remembered the number of breakfasts and brunches she missed out on because of Brittany's vendetta against it. She remembers how she changed for her, how she adapted. Rather than serve Brittany the galette, Santana figured she would remind her that she can't always get her way.
Not while Santana's in the kitchen.
A/N - I hope you guys are enjoying this so far! Fun fact - I'm using my tasting notes from work for inspo on these dishes. I'm trying out moodboarding for each chapter on tumblr so if there are any foodies out there, check it out! See ya next week!