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Levi remembered the first time he cooked for her. He even remembered the events leading up to it. Because he was pissed off. He remembered being in Erwin's office before he got ready for prep work. Erwin sat at his desk with his eyes closed and he had his folded hands against his mouth.
“Levi, you understand that people pay a lot of money for a chef's side table,” Erwin said. Levi looked down at his nails to check for dirt. None.
“Yeah,” he said.
“So they expect to be charmed by the chef,” Erwin said.
“So get a charming chef,” Levi said.
“Levi...look. I don't need you to flirt or anything. What I need you to do is take all that love you have for food and show just an inkling of that to the people you're cooking for.”
Levi glared and clenched his jaw.
“I wanted for you to have a few practice sessions, they'll be recorded,” he said.
“What?” Levi said. He almost jumped to his feet when he heard that. “You ask me to cook for all these people with shit palates. At least in the dining room I don't have to hear them. How the hell am I supposed to 'impress' when they don't understand what they're eating?”
“I'll break you in gently. I picked someone who has extremely sophisticated taste,” Erwin said.
Levi leaned back in the chair again and folded his arms.
“Is it you?” he asked.
“No. But I promise you won't be disappointed,” Erwin said with a smirk. Levi doubted it, but he'd try. “And by the way they'll be here in a few minutes.”
“What the hell?”
Erwin waved him away. “Now go get ready.”
Levi was trying not to take his frustration out on the innocent chickens, but he couldn't help it. He was butchering them in record time. Mike looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.
“You okay?” Mike asked.
“We have a chef's side table right now. A trial run, Erwin picked a mystery diner,” Levi said.
They were quiet for a little bit. “So...do you know who Erwin picked?”
“No,” Levi said. He wasn't interested in trying to talk. He was glad Mike wasn't one for conversation. Levi looked at the clock. It was almost time. The door to the kitchen opened.
“Hello!”
He looked over his shoulder and almost as quickly rolled his eyes. It was one of the servers. She'd been working for a few months, he had no real complaints about her. She pulled up a chair at the table and he wiped his hands before he went over. He held out his hand.
“Hello, how are you?” he said. “Remind me of your name.”
“Hange,” she said.
“What kind of name is that?” he said.
“It's mine. Is this how you greet customers?” she said.
He narrowed his eyes. “Here's a menu.”
“No. I don't want what's on the menu. Make something you've been experimenting with, give me something new,” she said. Levi raised an eyebrow and his frown deepened. Hange smirked and leaned her elbows on the table. “If I wanted something on the menu, I would come at a normal time.”
Levi put the menu away and snorted.
“I'll take this as a personal challenge,” he said. Hange grinned and leaned on her hand.
“I'm sure you'll impress me,” she said. Levi immediately grabbed a few ingredients and a bottle of wine.
“Mike, can you come over here and make her a salad?” Levi said.
“You got it, Chef,” he said. When they both came to her table Hange clapped her hands.
“Two handsome men are cooking for me. I must be lucky,” she said.
“Hey there, Hange,” Mike said. “I know you work here, but since the point of you coming today is for training, I'm gonna treat you like I would a customer.”
Levi sighed deeply and poured her a glass of wine. If anyone should be running chef's side tables it should be Mike. But Levi was the head chef, people expected him. While Mike charmed Hange with his laid back candor, Levi seasoned his short ribs and sliced blackberries. It seemed all too soon before Mike was done, and the only thing standing between him and having to talk to Hange was a salad and a glass of wine.
“So what did you put on those short ribs?” she asked. He was certain he'd roll his eyes so often they'd roll right out of his head. She sniffed the air. “I smell cumin and what else?”
He turned a bit. She could smell the difference between spices?
“I didn't do much. Cumin and a bit of salt. I don't want the taste of the seasoning to overpower the reduction I'm making for this,” he said.
“Oh? Reduction?” Hange said.
“Yes. It's a...you know what? I promised I'd surprise you. Just watch and then tell me what you taste.”
Hange grinned as she speared more salad onto her fork.
“Okay, I'm going to ask for a clue,” she said. “Is the wine I'm drinking meant to compliment the taste of the dish?”
“Yes.”
She grinned and raised her glass.
“Cook on, Chef Levi,” she said. He couldn't help but smile, just a little bit. He plated the dish with care, drizzling the reduction sauce onto the plate and wiping any drips. He set it before her and she clapped her hands.
“Don't tell me what it is! Let me taste it,” she said. She cut a bit, making sure to have the reduction on her meat. She took a bite and if she could smile bigger she did.
“Pork short ribs lightly seasoned and pan fried with a blackberry vinaigrette reduction sauce,” she said. “Oh my god. This is amazing! Please tell me you are going to make this for Erwin so he can add it to the menu.”
“Not yet,” he said. The shine in her eyes and the way she licked her lips made him satisfied like he'd never been before. She knew what she was tasting, she wasn't just a vacuum consuming food and not appreciating all his hard work.
“Oh, I'll volunteer to do your reviews all the time,” she said.
He hoped she would. A palate like hers was amazing, to be envied. He wanted the challenge of cooking for her again.
Levi started losing track of how many times he cooked for her because he invited Hange over several times a week for lunch after her classes. Mostly he wanted to experiment and test his skills and her palate. Naturally when you eat with someone, you talk and he learned a lot about her. She was a bit younger than him. She was putting herself through college since her family had nothing. She was some sort of science major, he didn't quite get all the details, she'd drown him in information when he asked. But he cooked while she studied, they ate while they talked and took a nap before going to work.
In the back of his mind, he knew this couldn't last. College servers never stayed long, but some how, Hange toughed it out. She needed the money and in a fine dining establishment, tips were generous. He wanted to believe she'd stay. But who graduated with a bachelor's degree in science of some sort (he couldn't remember) and didn't at least try to work in their field? But still, Levi looked forward to her ringing the bell for his apartment.
Of all the meals they had together, he remembered this one. He buzzed her in, left his door ajar, and then put the steak strips on. He recognized her by the long sigh she let out as soon as she walked in.
“I love this,” she said.
“You haven't even tasted it yet,” he said.
“The smell tells me enough. You haven't failed me. I have confidence it's delicious,” she said. She pulled a chair up to his table and grabbed a few plates and glasses.
“So...I have news for you,” she said.
“Erwin's going to make you a general manager for front of house?” Levi said.
“No, I...I'm going to get my master's degree. And the program is going to take me across the country and I'll probably spend some time in Italy,” she said. He paused, almost letting the peppers burn. He saved them in time. He continued to prepare lunch.
“Levi, don't be like that,” she said.
“I'm not like anything,” he said.
“You're upset.”
“No.”
She hugged him from behind. He put has hands on the counter and shut his eyes.
“I'm going to miss you. I'll never love anyone's cooking as much as yours,” she said. He balled his fists.
“You'd better not,” he said. She squeezed him tighter. “Let's eat.”
Hange released him and nodded. It was rare that Hange didn't say much over food, but she stuffed her mouth and let her empty plate do the talking.
Levi remembered the last time he cooked dinner for her. After a service, Levi was always worn out. But for Hange, he didn't care that it was almost one in the morning, and she wouldn't mind either. The kitchen was mostly clean except for whatever he had for the dinner he was making. Mike stayed behind out of solidarity while Levi checked his phone.
“She's almost here. I'm going to put on a clean uniform. If she gets here before I'm done, just stall,” Levi said.
“I can do that,” Mike said.
“And don't flirt too much,” Levi called over his shoulder.
“You know Hange. She won't go for it.”
Everything had to be perfect. He grabbed the flowers and went back out to the kitchen. He could hear her voice already and it almost made him stop. He wasn't sure he could handle this, but he turned the corner. Hange was there in a nice pair of pants and a vest with a button down shirt.
“Hey, Levi. I'm excited to have my last meal here!” she said. He tried to smile but it ended up being a grimace. He hoped the flowers would make up for it.
“You're not dying, Shit for Glasses,” he said. She took the flowers and brandished them like a sword. He expected no less of her.
“Two place settings on the table. So is tonight's dinner for Mike and me?” she asked.
“No. It's for us,” he said. She smiled, but it was much sadder than anything he'd seen on her. It wasn't as big, and she didn't show her teeth. She was quiet as he cooked, and he found himself trying to draw her out. But she just watched him and for once, her eyes were not on the plate as he placed it before her. He sat across from her and noted the shine in her eyes. It wasn't excitement.
“Hey. Don't do that,” he said. She chuckled and he reached over and held her cheek. “If you cry, the salt will ruin the food.”
“Right,” she whispered. They were quiet for a little bit.
“Your palate is wasted in a lab,” he said.
She snorted a little. “You think I'm going to be in a lab?”
“What else do science people do?” he asked.
“Come on Levi, you're a scientist too,” she said. He snorted. “Yeah, you are. Cooking is science for hungry people!”
“Stop saying weird things,” he said. She held up her wine glass.
“You need wine in order to cook a lot of your dishes, right?” she said.
“Yeah,” he said and took a sip of his own glass.
“Without a scientist, you could do trial and error with different cultures and such to find the right wine, or we can figure it out for you, or raise the best ones.”
“So...what are you saying?”
“I'm telling you my focus in biology has been molds and cultures used in food. I know I get complicated and technical sometimes, but I thought I explained that.”
“You did. But I really don't understand when you go off on your tangents sometimes.”
“I'll need my sense of taste in order to excel. It's not wasted.”
“I'm glad.”
“And I'll come back. I'll probably be more involved in wine or beer making, but I'll be involved in food, most certainly.”
She put his hand over his. He just nodded.
“I'm glad to hear it,” he said. The familiar warmth in her expression returned. When they were finished, Mike generously stayed behind to clean up after while they got ready to go home. She linked arms with him as they walked to the parking lot.
“Hange,” he said.
“Yes?”
He took a deep breath. “I'm only going to say this once. You must know that smells and tastes can be tied to memory. I'm just letting you know that I've cooked you so many things that I...I can't cook without thinking about you.”
They'd become close, and he wasn't sure when his respect and awe over her sense of taste moved into...something else, but it had.
“Levi, there's one taste I want to remember and I haven't tried it yet,” she said.
“I'll make it for you right now,” he said.
“No preparation needed. Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
Enjoying a good meal engaged all five senses. So did kissing, Levi supposed. The smell of her hair, the feel of her lips, the taste of her mouth, her soft moans, and the look of her swollen lips when they were finally finished.
“Now you can't forget,” he said.
“No, I certainly can't,” she said. He hugged her and she returned it.
He remembered the first time he cooked breakfast for her. She whispered sweet nothings against his shoulder in butchered Italian while he cooked. They toasted her award winning wine, with glasses of orange juice in wine glasses. It seemed that the meal was over too soon, and already he was hoping for tomorrow's breakfast. He was thinking polenta with some making out on the side.