In the Weeds

Tin Andra

commissioned by wendydarl

Okay, so here’s the catch: a six-month temp work for a billionaire in Upper East Side, a full tuition waiver for the semester you’re partaking in the temp work, a glowing recommendation from said billionaire at the end of your service, and a job offer by the time you’re graduating.

Wendy had read the brief of the project no fewer than ten times since her academic advisor summoned her to her office and handed her the brief. Sounded too good to be true, she’s not gonna lie, but then again it’s the CIA and its long-reaching arms. That, and the hefty amount of funding from the work (which she needed) sure could get her out of Chef Viecelli’s kitchen (which she hated).

“Shon! Where the are you when I need you?”

Sighing, she refolded the print-out of the brief and put in the back pocket of her pants. Just as she straightened, Tom Viecelli—former tech bro-turned-restaurateur and two times James Beard finalists—turned a corner and appeared at her station.

“Shon, look, you know I don’t often yell at women—” he made an appeasing gesture with both palms, something she’s sure he must have picked up from his investor bros in Washington, “—but you gotta work with me in this.” He pointed at her mise en place. “No gazpacho tonight. We’re serving salmorejo. Use those Cordoban bread. No tapas.” He lifted the bowl of shallots in front of her. “And get rid of these. They looked like somebody’s just on them.” He then left, probably to entertain the table of tech bros he’d welcome personally earlier.

Wendy gritted her teeth, trying not to glare at her boss. Sure, he’s the executive chef and she’s only the chef de partie, but she made sure the kitchen was running and food got out of the kitchen while the chef de cuisine Yuri Kwon was on an emergency leave. Sure, Viecelli’s name was on the placard and at the door, but more often than not he just hung around the kitchen or yelled at anyone who might be getting in the weeds. Most importantly, he caught the celeb chef disease that inflated his alpha male ego in a kitchen with no variation, no improvisation, all done according to his preference and his preference alone.

“Shon. Babe.” Joy Park, her fellow CIA sophomore and a long-time familiar face from the same Korean church her parents went to, nudged her. She tilted her head at the bowl of marinated tomatoes in her station. “Take a five, go. I’ve got this.”

“Nah. Appreciate it, though.” She grabbed a handful of boiled mixed berries anyway, put them in the Blendtec, and imagined it’s Viecelli’s little beady eyes in the puree instead of blackberries. Imagined violence kept a cook sane, that’s what they taught, after all.

“Man, three more months,” Joy said. “Can’t wait to get the out of here.”

“Yeah.”

“You got an early out, I heard?”

“Dunno. Haven’t decided.”

“Wendy Shon, you absolute wemble.” Joy pointed her knife at her. “It’s a pilot project. You win, you get your tuition and post-grad investment. You lose, you come back for one more year and be miserable with me. I call that a win-win.”

Her mixed berries puree was ready. She dipped her pinky and brought it to to taste. Nice. She then chopped some Brazil nuts for the topping. “Yeah, unless the mystery billionaire is worse than Tom.”

Joy snorted. “Doubt it.”

Chef Viecelli reappeared in the kitchen just when she’s about to garnish her mixed berries gazpacho. Knowing what she’d made despite his instruction, he grabbed her bowl and threw it in the trash can. “Salmorejo. ing salmorejo. You hear me alright, Shon?” He then grabbed the tomato bowl from Joy’s station and placed it in front of her. “Jesus, I let you be in charge while Kwon is recovering and this is how you pay me?”

When Viecelli disappeared, Joy patted her on the . The brief was there, and it reminded her that she needed to give Dr Im her answer tomorrow morning.

-.-.-

Her advisor Dr Yuna Im was not in her office when Wendy stopped by first thing in the morning. Her secretary told her that she was giving a tour to a guest. She did, however, tell her secretary to tell Wendy to meet her in test kitchen #9 in the west campus.

Bundled up to ward off the chill of Hyde Park in late winter, she left the faculty building to get to the west campus. The red brick walls of Roth Hall were unnervingly quiet as it was still early and most students weren’t on campus yet. The brassiere relief of the late Tony Bourdain, the school’s most famous alumnus, right at the mouth of the hallway that was dedicated to him, watched her leave the building and into the snow-covered plaza. The water fountain in front of the building was muted, too, unoperated throughout winter like always. Fresh snow crunched under her boots, but this time she imagined no face, no , at least for now.

The metal door of test kitchen #9 groaned as she opened it. From her spot in the center of the kitchen, Dr Im found her. “Ah, Wendy. Perfect timing. Come, come.” The two women who were also with Dr Im turned around, and one of them immediately leaned in to whisper do Dr Im, “That’s her?”

“Good morning, Dr Im,” she greeted her advisor.

“Wendy, I’d like you to meet my friend Irene Bae, of the Molto Bene fame.” Dr Im gestured at one of her guests, a sharp-looking woman in white suits and skirt. “Remember the temporary private chef pilot project I told you? Irene is going to take part in it and be one of the participating patrons.”

She nodded at the woman. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms Bae.”

Irene Bae nodded lightly in return, her dark hair that was styled and swept to lie over one shoulder unmoving. “Likewise, Wendy. And it’s Irene, please.” She pointed at the other guest standing a bit behind her and Dr Im. “This is Chunja, my secretary. She’s actually the one with all the information about the project. I’m afraid I’m not very good with remembering all the detail except the fact that Chef Kwon recommended you.”

Bless her mentor’s good heart. “I hope you only hear good things from her.”

Irene answered with a smile, and Wendy could’ve sworn in another universe she’d cook a hundred meals for free for her. A smile that launched a thousand meals, imagine that. “Dr Im here is briefing me about the project before it officially begins. Chunja?”

“Ah, yes.” Irene’s secretary stepped in. “We’re very interested in participating, and we specifically ask if we can get to know you in advance? Even just a little bit? Irene doesn’t actually live in the city, but this year she’s going to oversee some business negotiations here. That being said, we’re in need of house staff. Chef Kwon’s recommendation definitely helped with our kitchen logistics.” She paused to breathe. Wendy’s kinda impressed, really. “As for you and the CIA, Irene agrees to every stipulation but would like to add one more clause. We’d like to ask you to stay for one month after the project to help us ensure the transition is smooth. We’ll cover all the expense for the seventh month except the administrative fees from the CIA.”

Meaning to train her successor, Wendy got it. “That’s fair.”