Burn, Baby, Burn by Michael Seale (Chapter 5)

Chapter 5

Bolognese 

Cubes of wild boar meat had marinated overnight in a bath of red wine, rosemary, garlic and black pepper. The potent smell of herbs, iron and wine filled my nose as I strained the rosy red, purplish meat, catching the wine as it flowed thru the colander. I would need it later to deglaze the roasting pan. The bones roasted in the oven at 230° C, they would give my sauce depth and more flavor. 

My knife cut through the carrots, onions and celery like warm butter, shredding them into a fine brunoise, small pieces of vegetable confetti that would glitter in the sauce. The large pan radiated heat, the oil a shimmering slick on the surface, just about to smoke. The meat seasoned with salt and pepper; I give them a sprinkling of flour. The meat instantly sizzles as it hits the hot oil and metal. I’ve learned not to disturb the meat too often, by doing so I develop a good, dark crust on the red meat. Here it’s not about looking great, it’s all about flavor. The meat browns, the caramelized edges develop. I add the vegetables to the pan, cooking them without adding anymore color. The wine boils and cooks coloring the mix a deep shade of purple. It all cooks together until sec. Or in better words, until the wine has evaporated. 

The bones have caramelized; they are golden brown, black and white. The fat has rendered and collected to a liquid gold in the roasting pan. The little meat that held on had charred. I add the bones to the pan, careful not to add the fat. Then I cover it all with a bit of vegetable stock and peeled tomatoes from the can. The lid sits on the large pan with a little opening so the steam can come out. Now I wait. The sauce needs at least three hours, but we cook it overnight, adding a bit more stock to it before we go home. It develops the flavor. The sauce should be thick and dark, with flavors of game and tomatoes that home cooked Old Italian flavor that you can only get when things cooked slow and low. This flavor takes time, it can’t be rushed. 

“Are we going to the Cat tonight?” Tom asked.

“No way, I gotta get some sleep,” I replied. “I got so hammered last night; I can’t remember what happened at all. The last I remember I was out back in the alley and saw that bartender, the one that I couldn’t remember her name.”

“Yeah, that was hilarious. She wanted to kill you.”

“Yeah, well, we were going at it in the alley. I remember that and I think I remember walking away with her, but after that nothing. I woke up to some crazy ass dream and my phone ringing.”

“You left with her? I thought I saw Bill walk out with her. I don’t know, I was so shit-faced, I passed out at Ollie’s house.”

“When I woke up, she had split, but I’m sure we went home together. I think.”

The sauce cooked on the corner of the stove. A red slick of tomato and fat bubbled away on the top. Tom tasted it. 

"Hm, tastes a bit different from usual. Maybe a bit gamier."

"I did everything like you told me. Followed the recipe to a T. Well, there was more meat and bones than usual. I took everything that I found downstairs."

"I didn't say it was bad, maybe just needs to cook longer."

The CD player blasted out Bob Marley, Tom had been listening to him a lot lately. As much I as I enjoyed reggae once in a while, it was time to change. Tom's dreadlocks bopped to the beat. He seemed lost in his own world, of course, most of the time he was in his own world. Being that stoned was his permanent state. 

Together we prepped the entire kitchen. I trimmed the fat from the beef tenderloin and cut them into steaks. We marinated them in fresh chopped rosemary, garlic and olive oil. Tom worked on his ravioli; today he filled them with ricotta and herbs. We served the pasta with a butter sauce and a touch of truffle oil. 

The phone in the office rang. Tom didn't look up as it continued to ring.

"Tom, you going to get that," I asked, nodding my head towards the office.

"Get what?" he asked without looking up.

"The phone?" 

"What about the phone?"

"It's ringing, asshole." 

"Fuck off."

"Seriously, it's ringing."

"I heard nothing." He continued his prep.

I shook my head. Maybe I was hearing things, I thought. I feel like I haven't slept in a while. I put my head down and continued my work. There was still a lot of work to do. 

Time flew by. And Marley soldiered on. Ollie and Bill finally showed up. Gustavo had come in not too long ago as well. He was downstairs making the pizza dough. I don’t know how he did it, but he did better than any of us. His dough was perfect every time. I never saw him measure anything out. Just poke his fingers in the dough as the machine kneaded it. He knew when to add water and when to add more flour. That was his science. 

I also knew he that he could speak English but he refused to speak in front of Ollie. It was some sort of game he played with himself, always pretending he didn't understand what Ollie said. It annoyed the hell out of him. I don’t think that he doesn't like him, but who knows. Who actually cares, Ollie is an idiot. 

Bill keeps him around because he feels responsible for him, I guess. Ollie isn't cut out for this work. He's weak, he can't handle the pressure. He'll crack eventually. Bill just hasn't realized it yet. Sometimes I think that Bill might just beat the hell out of him, but he just gets his ass handed to him over and over. 

The shrill ring of the phone rang out again. I tried to ignore it. Tom didn't make a move towards it. I looked to Bill. He was deep in his espresso, going over some menu ideas. Ollie, well, Ollie is Ollie, and he does nothing unless you yelled at him at least five times to do it.

Doesn't anyone hear that? I thought. The phone continued its incessant ringing and no one person reacted. Five, ten, fifteen rings. No one moved. Am I the only one that hears that? I looked to Bill, to Tom, nothing. I made my way to the office; Bill eyed me from behind his espresso and picked up the damn thing. 

There was nothing the same as the morning. Nothing except silence. No dial tone, no deep breathing, and thankfully no screaming and laughing. I hung it up. Bill was still watching me; he didn't say he anything, just stared. I walked back to the kitchen. As I picked up my knife, the phone rang again. I looked towards the office, towards the desk with the black cordless phone sitting on it. I wouldn’t give in, I won’t pick it up. I braced myself and tried with all my might to ignore it. 

I put my head down and my knife to my board. I needed to slice the fennel. The phone beckoned me. It taunted me with its ringing. It wanted me to answer again. The smell of old smoke found its way into my nose, just as this morning. It couldn’t be. It was a dream, some fucked up, hangover dream from this morning. It can’t happen again, I told myself. I choked on the acrid smell of smoke. I raced back to the phone. 

I didn't say hello; I didn't have to. The laughing had started before I could get the receiver to my ear. I waited for the screams. The opera of terror that shook me this morning had followed me. It had found me, invaded my space. My hands shook. Blackness invaded my eyes, blanketing the world. My knees buckled, and I passed out. 

I least that's what I thought happened, but as I came back the entire staff was staring at me. Trish's and Kimber’s mouths were both agape. Ollie was barely holding back an annoying laugh. 

"What the hell was that?" Bill demanded, as I came too. 

"I don’t know, I passed out?” I held my head in my hands, it felt as if the jack hammer had started again. “What do you mean?" I asked.

"Fuck dude, you have been laughing hysterically for the last five minutes."

"I did what?" 

Kimber touched my arm. She asked with her eyes if I was ok. I managed a weak smile. The entire staff was standing around, watching me. Not really caring, but just wanting a bit of entertainment for their mundane lives. 

"Seriously, Mike, you were holding the phone in your hand and laughing nonstop. We thought you were joking at first, but then you didn't stop. Are you ok?" Tom asked. 

Bill watched from behind his heavy forehead. His long brown hair hung partially over his face. Hiding his thoughts. 

"No, I fainted, I felt it. Didn’t I?”

I played it over in my head. The phone was ringing, and I picked it up and everything went black. That’s how it happened, right?

Most of the gawkers walked away. They had quickly lost interest in the situation, seeing as if it there wouldn’t be an encore. Bill then sent the concerned-Tom and the double-over-laugh-at-everyone-Ollie back into the kitchen to continue prepping everything.

Bill aimed his death stare at me with his brown eyes. I hated that stare, we all hated that stare, it made me feel naked in front of him, as if he could see me. It made me feel like a little kid in trouble, waiting for my dad to beat me again. Bill didn't flinch, and I couldn't hold his gaze for long. 

"Mike," Bill started. "Are you taking something? Because you know that I won't tolerate that,” Says the guy who snorts a line before every service. 

"Bill, I would never. That's the truth." 

Bill continued his soul penetration. He didn't blink; it was unnerving. Just then I realized I was still holding the black cordless. I went to hang it up. Bill's hand grasped my wrist in a death lock. He bent, tilted his head down towards me. I could feel his warm breath against my skin, he smelt like coffee and cigarettes. 

"Make sure, that you get the fuck off whatever you are on. I don't want it here. Now go home."

"Bill, I promise, I'm not on anything."

"Then go to the doctor and get a test, until then I don't want you here." Bill walked away without another word. Ignoring my protests. He just walked back into the kitchen and picked up the mandolin and began slicing shallots again. 

I followed him and stood next to the pass. He looked up and stared at me. I opened my mouth to speak and then thought better of it. Turning to leave I grabbed my knife bag and said goodbye; telling them I would be back tomorrow. 

"You comeback when you are ok," Bill said, feigning his concern. 

Trish came down the stairs as I changed my clothes. She is so beautiful; I thought. The lockers were next to the walk-in. She opened the door and got some milk for the coffee machine. 

"Are you ok," she asked me from inside.

"I think so, I don't know what happened. I don't really remember anything."

"That was so weird. You were laughing like a crazy man. It was kinda scary."

I just shook my head; I didn’t know what to think. Pausing, I stared at her. I wanted to let her know that it scared me, but I couldn't. "When can I see you again?"

"I'll try to leave early tonight." she whispered. "Are you sure you are ok?" 

This was our secret, she was actually with Bill but we had been secretly seeing each other on the side, not even Kimber knew. I knew it screwed me if Bill found out, but she was so incredibly gorgeous. I mean, I would be royally fucked if he found out I was screwing his chick. Until now we had been careful. I hated knowing that she would snort a line of coke with him in the bathroom and then blow him before service. I always made her shower and brush her teeth before we met up. I didn't want any sloppy seconds.

Bill watched us from the top of the stairs. He had heard everything. 

As I walked out of the graffiti covered back door, I got the feeling that someone was staring at me. I looked back through the only small window in the kitchen and Bill's death stare cut me. I got the feeling that he knew something that I didn't.