Simmer Down by Jessica Conant-Park, Susan Conant

give you any freedom. It doesn’t let you show how good you really are. It shows what you can do with a restrained list of ingredients, but it really limits you. If you’re cooking in a restaurant, you won’t be working under those conditions, so I’m not sure how useful a mystery box like that was. But he obviously seemed happy enough with what I did to hire me. He’d seen my resume and where I’d worked, so he knew I could cook. This was a way to see what I could do in unique circumstances, I guess.”
    “It sounds like you did a superior job, considering the food you were given. I love this concept of ‘auditioning’ for a chef position,” Mom said. “One thinks of ‘auditioning’ for the theater, but that’s really what you are doing. Trying out for the lead. And in order to get the part, you have to show off your performing arts talent! It’s wonderful!” Mom needed to lay off the wine; she was becoming a little too enthusiastic.
    “And so what will your schedule be?” Heather asked.
    Josh and Snacker looked at each other for a moment before Josh answered. “Probably six days until things get steady.” I guess they’d been trying to figure out who would deliver the bad news. “I’ll be off Mondays, and Snacker will be off Tuesdays.”
    My stomach dropped. Six days a week? What’s more, when classes were in session, I was cooped up with Naomi all day every Monday for my field placement. When was I ever going to see Josh?
    “That’ll just be temporary,” Josh said, mostly to me. I looked at him and tried to smile as though I completely understood and was prepared to be the ultimate trouper. “Gavin wants us both to have two days in a row off, but I know myself, and I won’t be comfortable until everything is running as cleanly as possible.”
    Noticing that I was likely to start wailing more loudly than even Lucy ever did, Dad jumped in. “Well, so, how is the menu coming? Are you all set?”
    “The New Year’s Eve menu is going to be a set menu with dishes from the regular menu, which is basically done, too. It’s a pretty big one. I think it’s too big, but Gavin wants it like that. Mostly he let me do what I want, except for what I refer to as the obligatory steak. Every restaurant I’ve worked at has insisted that there has to be some form of steak and potatoes on the menu. I love a good steak, but chefs everywhere are bored silly by having to cook it all the time. Anyhow, we’ll be open for lunch to get the shopping and business crowd, so we’ve got half of the dinner menu cut down into lunch-size dishes, plus sandwiches and stuff like that.”
    Crap. Open for lunch meant Josh would have to be there early. No more long mornings lounging around together. As much as he trusted Snacker, I knew that Josh would be there every day to prep for lunch. And wouldn’t be home until well after the last plate had gone out at night.
    “God, we have so much to do,” Josh said, leaning back in his chair. The weight of what he had taken on seemed finally to be hitting him. “Snack, do you know how to use that scheduling software I was telling you about?”
    Snacker shook his head. I knew Gavin had been installing all sorts of restaurant software on the computer that he and Josh would share. There seemed to be a program for everything: purchasing, recipes, inventory, and so on. Next to Ade, Josh was the least computer-literate person I knew.
    “With everything that goes on at a restaurant, how do you guys get breaks?” Ben asked, reaching for more of the delicious pork loin.
    “We don’t,” Josh said with some weird form of pride. “Most chefs don’t. You work from the minute you get there until after service. If things are slow, you take a few minutes to regroup and grab something to eat. I never eat a normal meal when I’m working. It’s just eat while you cook. Or sometimes you can make food for yourself and the staff around four o’clock or so, before the dinner rush, or after we