TASTE OF HIS RUIN 🖤

Chapter 6: A Table Set for Two Worlds

By six that evening, Zara had finished her proposal and sent it to Luc. He had promised to review it before forwarding it to the general manager, which meant she could finally turn her attention to dinner service.

She was checking the day's reservations when Elise Moreau entered the kitchen with a printed schedule.

“Zara, I need a moment.”

Zara set down her pen. “Is something wrong?”

“Not exactly. We have a private dinner tomorrow evening. Eight guests, all attending a business meeting at the hotel. Adrian wants the kitchen to prepare a separate tasting menu.”

“Separate from the winter menu?”

“Yes. Six courses, with alternatives for two guests who have dietary restrictions. The final details are in the file.”

Elise placed a folder on the counter.

Zara opened it. The guests' names were listed alongside their preferences, and the menu brief contained a request for a dish that highlighted local Alpine ingredients.

“Who is leading it?” she asked.

“Luc will oversee the kitchen. Ines is handling dessert, and you'll develop one of the savoury courses.”

Zara looked up. “Which course?”

“The fish course. Adrian wants you to propose something by tomorrow afternoon.”

Of course he did.

She studied the brief again. There was no mention of the mushroom dish she'd been working on, and she was grateful for that. At least this was a different challenge.

“What do we know about the guests?”

“Very little beyond their dietary requirements and the purpose of the dinner. They're potential partners in a development project, so presentation and timing will matter.”

“Understood.”

Elise started to leave, then paused.

“One more thing. Don't feel you need to make the dish extravagant simply because of the guests. Adrian values restraint when it's done properly.”

Zara raised an eyebrow. “That's surprisingly useful advice.”

“I'm the general manager. Occasionally, I earn my salary.”

After Elise left, Zara took the folder to her station and began thinking through the possibilities.

The fish needed to be delicate enough for a tasting menu but distinctive enough to hold its own among several courses. She considered trout, then crossed it out. The hotel had experienced delivery problems with trout when she first arrived, and she didn't want the menu depending on an ingredient that might not be available.

She settled on Arctic char, provided the supplier could guarantee its quality.

Instead of pairing it with a heavy cream sauce, she considered a light broth made from fish bones, fennel, and herbs, with a small amount of apple for freshness. The garnish would be restrained: perhaps a thin slice of roasted fennel and a few leaves of something aromatic.

She wrote the idea down but didn't begin cooking immediately. First, she needed to confirm the delivery.

Across the kitchen, Luc was reviewing the following day's prep schedule.

“I want to use Arctic char for tomorrow's private dinner,” Zara told him. “If the supplier can guarantee the delivery.”

“It's available, but the quality varies. Ask Greta to confirm the batch before you commit.”

“I will.”

“And don't make the broth too delicate. The guests will have eaten two courses before they reach the fish.”

“I know how a tasting menu works, Luc.”

“Good. Then you won't mind me reminding you.”

She smiled despite herself. “You're enjoying this.”

“Immensely.”

The next morning, Zara arrived with a revised proposal and a list of ingredients for the fish course. Greta confirmed that the Arctic char would arrive before midday, but warned that the quantity was limited.

“Enough for the dinner,” Greta said, “but not enough to cover mistakes.”

“Then I'll make sure there aren't any.”

“That confidence is encouraging. Expensive mistakes are less so.”

Zara spent the morning testing the broth. The first version was clean but forgettable. The second had more depth, though the apple was too noticeable. She reduced the fruit and added a little fennel, allowing its sweetness to sit beneath the fish rather than announcing itself.

When Luc tasted the third version, he nodded.

“This has character. Keep the broth light, but make sure the fish can stand on its own.”

Zara prepared a small portion of char, cooking it carefully so the centre remained moist. She tasted it with the broth and adjusted the seasoning by a fraction.

The result was simple, but every element had a purpose.

She plated a sample and carried it to the small tasting room adjoining the restaurant.

Adrian was already there.

He stood beside the window, speaking quietly to Theo Martin. Both men turned when Zara entered.

“Chef Bennett,” Adrian said. “I understand you have a proposal.”

“I do.”

She set the plate on the table and explained the dish without overselling it. Arctic char, lightly roasted fennel, and a clear broth infused with fennel and herbs, finished with a restrained touch of apple.

Adrian listened without interrupting.

Then he sat and tasted the fish.

Zara watched his face, trying not to make the mistake of treating every movement as a verdict.

He tasted the broth separately, then combined it with the fish and fennel.

“The fish is cooked well,” he said.

She waited.

“The broth has good depth, but the apple arrives too late. I notice it after the fish rather than alongside it.”

Zara considered that. She had reduced the apple precisely to prevent it from dominating the dish, but perhaps she had pushed it too far in the other direction.

“I can bring it forward slightly without increasing the quantity,” she said. “A different preparation may do that.”

“What preparation?”

“I'll test a small amount of fresh apple juice against the current infusion. If it makes the broth taste sweet, I'll discard it.”

Adrian looked at her for a moment. “That's reasonable.”

Theo took a bite. “I like the restraint. It won't overwhelm the courses before or after it.”

“Then we agree on one thing,” Zara said.

Adrian's eyes lifted from the plate. “Only one?”

“I'm sure we'll find more if we keep trying.”

Theo coughed into his hand, suspiciously close to a laugh.

Adrian set down his fork. “Bring me the revised version before tomorrow's service.”

“I'll bring it to Luc first.”

“Of course.”

His tone was neutral, but Zara caught the faintest shift in his expression. He was used to being the final authority, and she had just reminded him that the kitchen had its own chain of responsibility.

She gathered the plate and returned to work.

That evening, Zara ate a late dinner in the staff dining room before returning to her accommodation. The day had been demanding, but it had also reminded her why she had chosen this career. She liked the process of solving a problem, tasting a possibility, and discovering that a small adjustment could change an entire dish.

In her room, she called her mother.

Sophie answered on the second ring.

“There she is. I was beginning to think Switzerland had swallowed you.”

“Not yet.”

“How's work?”

“Busy. I'm developing a course for a private dinner tomorrow.”

“Are you enjoying it?”

Zara looked at the notebook open on her desk.

“Yes,” she admitted. “Even when the people in charge are difficult.”

“People can be difficult anywhere, sweetheart. Just make sure the work is taking you somewhere you want to go.”

Her mother's words settled more deeply than Zara expected.

After they finished talking, she opened the notebook to a clean page and wrote the next adjustment for the broth. Beneath it, she added a line about the mushroom dish and the proposal for local suppliers.

One day, she would have her own restaurant. She would decide what belonged on the menu, which suppliers deserved her trust, and what kind of kitchen she wanted to build.

Until then, she would learn everything she could.

Tomorrow, she had a fish course to perfect—and Adrian Laurent would have to wait until she was ready to serve it.