Simmer Down by Jessica Conant-Park, Susan Conant

waves accompanied by what sounded like yodeling.
    “When you were interviewing with Gavin, did you have to cook for him?” my dad asked. “Or did you just show him your résumé and old menus from other jobs?”
    “No, I had to audition. Some employers will hire you without having you cook, but that always makes me worry about what kind of place it is. Most restaurant owners have you audition with a mystery box.”
    “What’s a mystery box?” Ben scooped the sleeping Lucy from his wife, who had been struggling to transfer food to her mouth while holding the baby in both hands. I gestured to Ben to hand the little bundle over to me. I needed a good baby fix once in a while, and there was nothing like holding a warm, blissful sleeping baby. I snuggled Lucy in my arms and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead.
    “Oooh, I know what a mystery box is!” piped up Adrianna, who’d been unusually quiet tonight. “That’s where they put secret ingredients together for you to use in dishes. You have to use whatever’s in there, even if it’s gizzards or something, right?”
    “You got it,” smiled Snacker. “Tell ’em what you had, Josh!”
    “Oh, God, it was a weird mix. Pumpkinseed oil, a whole leg of lamb, a whole salmon, foie gras, veal cheeks, and something called farrow.” Josh looked at our confused faces. “Yeah, I didn’t know what farrow is either. I think it’s some kind of hulled wheat. And because the restaurant wasn’t open when I auditioned, I went to Gavin’s house and cooked, so I didn’t have that many fresh vegetables and herbs to use. Usually you’re cooking a mystery box with more traditional items and enough other supplies around, but I had, like, parsley, chives, potatoes, carrots—just your basic staples. To make matters worse, Gavin watched me pretty much the whole time.”
    “Don’t they always?” asked Owen.
    Snacker answered for Josh, who had his mouth full. “No, not very often. Usually they give you the mystery box and say, ‘See you in three hours.’ Gavin did the smart thing, which is to watch how your potential chef uses his time, how clean he keeps the kitchen as he works, his culinary skills, and all that. For instance, that’s why Gavin gave him a whole leg of lamb and a whole salmon. Not because he expected Josh to cook all of it, but because he wanted to see him break them down.”
    “So what did you make?” asked Owen.
    “I used the veal and lamb for one dish. I cut the lamb into steaks, grilled it, and served it with a warm corn and fava bean relish and a caramelized onion polenta. The veal cheeks, I seared those in the pumpkinseed oil and then braised them in verjuice and chicken stock. Verjuice is like a grape juice, and you can use it instead of vinegar. I put the polenta in the center of the plate, the veal on one side, and the lamb on the other, and I ran the corn and fava bean relish across the top.”
    “And what about that farrow stuff?” asked Heather, who was for once showing interest in Josh.
    “Well, I cooked it risotto style and served that with steamed salmon and a fennel-orange salad. I didn’t really know what to do with the food Gavin gave me. A mess of food like what he gave me doesn’t 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 résumé 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.