She chops strawberries and mint, humming along to the music pouring through her propped-open door. Today it’s classic Motown. “I need something with a little soul,” Gloria insisted as she tied on her apron that morning.
“You got it, honey,” Rey answered.
Their daily music choice sets the tone and pace of the kitchen. Everyone chops and stirs and cooks in time with it. Gazing through the window that overlooks the main kitchen, Susan sees Gloria and Rey swaying their hips, even as they keep their heads down, focusing on their work. Gloria is tweaking presentations on the dishes Susan has already approved, and Rey is developing a new accompaniment to their scallop dish. An apprentice works alongside him, learning how to get just the right sear on the scallops so they caramelize, but don’t burn, and remain tender and just barely cooked inside.
“Otherwise, you’ll get rubbery scallops, and nobody wants that,” Rey tells him, gesturing for the young man to flip the creamy mollusks.
The other apprentice is making buckwheat crepes for one of the starters they’re testing. With a cocky smile, he tries flipping it in the air with a flick of his wrist, but he misses the catch, and it lands draped over the side of the pan, clinging for a second before disintegrating and landing on the open flame of the gas burner. The kitchen briefly fills with the acrid smell of burning before the extractor fan manages to whisk the stench away.
“Hey, don’t get fancy, here; there’s no one to impress with that kind of trickery,” Gloria scolds him, glancing up from her painstakingly placed microgreens. She catches Susan’s eye and they exchange a “kids, you know?” smirk.
There’s a good feeling, a good energy, but it feels like time is running short, even though they’ve pushed the launch back yet again. That’s mostly thanks to the dry rot in the walls upstairs, which is proving extra tricky because they’re in a listed building, and the Council needs to sign off on any structural work. They don’t seem to be in any particular rush to do that, because what do they care if Elliot’s ever reopens?
There’s still so much to do, and now Susan is gazing down at her pile of precisely diced strawberries and wondering if this is enough. Will they be enough? Will she be enough? Will the critics and the Instagram-loving diners they’re going after take one look at her desserts and think, “Pavlova? Really? Welcome back to 1986, amirite?”
She needs a break. She’s been at this since half past six, and now, Susan realizes, it’s past two. She puts the strawberries to one side and steps into the main kitchen, stretching her arms above her head and trying to get the kink out of her lower back.
Gloria glances up and smiles a hello, then catches sight of the clock on the wall and yells, “Ah, shit—Rey, the interview’s on.”
Rey switches from the music to BBC Radio Scotland, where a pleasant female voice is saying, “… today we’re sitting down with Chris Baker, who’s followed up his rapid rise to culinary television stardom with the much-acclaimed opening of his first restaurant, Seòin, in Edinburgh. And he’ll be following that with the publication of a new book in August. Quite the busy man! I feel fortunate he had the time to sit down with us. Chris, thank you so much for being here today.”
“Not at all—thank you for having me.” Chris’s voice, light and warm, roots Susan to the spot.
“Tell us a bit about your restaurant,” the presenter urges. “It seems like you’re pulling from a lot of different culinary traditions, but tying them in with classic Scottish cooking.”
“You have it exactly,” he agrees. “I’ve been fortunate enough to travel and study all over the world, and I’ve sort of stolen the best bits—or my favorite bits—and used them to play around with some of the dishes I grew up with.”
“Yes, that’s right, you grew up in Edinburgh, didn’t you?” the presenter says, as if Chris has only just reminded her.
Gloria snorts. “What? Like she didn’t know that?”
“These things are always so fake,” Rey agrees.
“I did,” says Chris. “I grew up a bit rough, on one of the council estates in the city. I …” There’s a pause so long that Gloria and one of the line cooks look up at the radio, wondering if it died. Susan frowns, wondering what Chris is thinking of. “I knew more than a few people—young people—who got into trouble. And honestly, I probably would have been one of them if it hadn’t been for cooking.” His voice takes on a self-deprecating tone. “I know that must sound incredibly cliché, but it’s true. The kitchen saved me, and I want to do the same for other lads—and lasses—who need direction. So, Seòin is also a sort of social enterprise. I’m hiring at-risk youth and young offenders and giving them a chance for a different sort of life.”
“That’s very noble,” the presenter purrs.
Rey rolls his eyes and makes a “jerking-off” motion with one hand before getting back to the vegetables he’s pickling.
“Just do him already, why don’t you?” one of the apprentices joins in.
“Shh!” Susan hisses. She doesn’t care much for this presenter either, but she thinks Chris’s plan for the restaurant deserves a little respect. Some people would do something like this purely for a marketing angle, but she senses he’s in earnest. She can hear it in his voice. He’s excited about this.
“And you’re helping out fellow chefs as well, aren’t you? Helping them get started?” prompts the presenter.
“Not just me. There’s a team of us—the Kitchen Lab. Established Scottish chefs who’ve been fortunate enough to find success. We’ve bought a space in the Arches, near Waverley Train Station, and turned it into a restaurant that up-and-coming chefs can use as a pop-up for a month at a time. It helps them get exposure that may help them establish themselves more permanently on the Scottish restaurant scene.”
“Aren’t you worried about potentially creating competition?”
Chris laughs softly. “I welcome it. Competition keeps you sharp. Keeps you innovating.”
“Speaking of getting started in cooking—it was Elliot Napier who gave you your first job in a kitchen, wasn’t it? At his flagship restaurant?” the presenter continues.
Susan’s heart thumps and her stomach twists.
“That’s right, he did,” Chris agrees. “Back when Elliot’s was still producing halfway decent food.”
The kitchen goes dead quiet as everyone stops what they’re doing and stares at the radio.
The host chuckles. “Don’t think much of it now, I suppose?”
They can almost hear Chris shrug. “Oh, you know, he let it go corporate, and it lost its soul. It used to be one of the best restaurants in the city, but now … Well, the tourists like it, at least. They’re planning a relaunch, I hear, but honestly, at this point it’d take a miracle to make that place any sort of destination again.”
“Ouch,” Gloria says with an exaggerated wince. “Thanks a lot, wanker.”
The dishwasher flips a middle finger at the radio, and Rey shrugs. “Imagine how surprised he’ll be,” he says, finishing up with the vegetables, “when he has his first meal here … Mmm!” He smacks his lips. “He won’t know what hit him.” He looks up at Susan and cocks his head. “You okay, honey?”