The chef was French, arrogant, and short. Didn’t matter. She’d brave anyone, even a jerk with a Napoleonic complex, for the chance to change her profession.
“Sweetheart,” Konrad whispered.
She gazed up at him and lost herself in his eyes. “Yes?”
“All these knife techniques are great, but I’m barely able to concentrate. All I can think about is you. I’m afraid I’ll chop my fingers off.”
She stifled a chuckle. “Pay attention, then,” she whispered back. “We need your fingers.”
He grinned and slipped an arm around her waist. When he pulled her close and kissed her on the forehead, the instructor looked over at them.
“Excusez moi, am I interrupting you?” he asked with obvious sarcasm.
Konrad cleared his throat. “Um, no. Sorry.”
Roz elbowed him playfully and pulled her attention back to the matter at hand. Yes, chopping veggies without chopping off one’s digits, always a good idea.
“Now, everyone, take the vegetables in front of you. Use the proper knife to seed and chop them. I’ll come around and watch each of you.”
Roz picked up the small paring knife and cut open a green pepper. She glanced over at Konrad and noticed he was using the huge butcher knife for the same job. Yup, one of them hadn’t been paying attention.
“The gentleman with the blond hair, what is your name?”
Konrad stopped struggling with the pepper. “Konrad.”
“Well, Konrad, are you inventing new ways to seed a pepper? Perhaps you can explain your reason for using the largest knife in front of you?”
“Yeah, I have big hands.”
The class tittered. Roz grimaced.
“We pick our instruments based on the size and texture of the ingredients, not our thick, meaty hands.”
“Oh. I guess I’m not very good at this.”
The chef frowned. “All you need to do is watch and repeat the technique I use, exactly.”
“Okay, I’ll try to do better.”
The annoying man sighed and moved on to the other students. “Very good. I’m glad some of you managed to watch and learn. When you all have your vegetables prepared, we’ll move on to meat.”
At last everything they needed for the recipe was ready, and they were instructed to split into pairs and find a stove. Next they had to add olive oil to a large frying pan and turn on the gas.
Konrad sneaked over to Roz and copped a feel as he poured the oil. She squirmed and giggled. Finally she slapped his hand away. When he lit the burner, a huge flame shot up, setting off the fire detectors, and Roz’s hair began to blaze.
“Crap! I must have missed the pan.”
Roz ran to the sink to fill a pan with water, not realizing her hair was burning. Konrad tackled her and patted out the fire with his bare hands.
The chef yelled, “Stop! Turn off the gas. I’ll get the fire extinguisher.”
Roz bolted back to the stove and shut off the gas, but the flame continued to burn. The chef charged toward them with the extinguisher and sprayed foam all over their stove, covering their meat and vegetables.
He set the fire extinguisher down and crossed his arms. “I’m afraid you two must leave. When you can pay greater attention to food preparation than to each other, you can come back.”
“Damn,” Konrad muttered. “I’m sorry. Are you sure we can’t have another chance?”
“Another chance to burn down my kitchen? I think not.” The chef tipped his nose in the air and waited for them to gather their things and go.
