2019-07-29 - Scallops and Conversation

It's a warm summer night; cooler than the oppressive heat of the day, but still balmy, with people still out on the boardwalk even now as the hour crests 8pm. Corey is one such person, having finished some chores that ran wayyyy longer than expected, leading to him missing dinner. A tragedy.

Fortunately he's in good time to catch the Fried Fish stand, and so he turns in towards the counter with a relieved smile, inhaling deeply. "Mm. Smells good. What're you recommending today?" he asks cheerfully, his accent definitely that of a local.

Julia is a local too, but has been out of touch with being a townie for a long time. But this past year, the Prodigal Daughter returned. "It's all good." She smiles reflexively, an over-the-counter smile for dealing with customers. "You can never go wrong with fish and chips, or if you want to live dangerously, there's the weekly special."

"Then I'll have the Weekly Special," Corey decides, without even looking around to see if the special is written on a board anywhere. Apparently he does like to live dangerously, at least when food is concerned. Digging a hand into the pocket of his jeans, he digs out a $20 and offers it over. The bill, while perfectly legal, is stained a little bit red along one edge. "And a bottle of water, if you've got one, please."

Indeed. Chili rubbed scallops over black beans seems to be this week's offering, a surprisingly elegant alternative amongst all of the fried options. Julia accepts the money, makes change, and leans to open the portable ice chest to get his water. "Hope you like spicy." She says with a grin. "Because this dish is straight out of my abuela's cookbook she brought with her family from Cuba."

There's a broad grin from Corey. "Absolutely do," he confirms with a confident nod. "I love Cuban cooking. A guy I knew in Canada did a proper lechon asado cookout before we parted ways." He pats his stomach, indicating that it was gooood. "Honestly, I'll eat pretty much anything and love it, as long as it's done well," he admits a moment later, his grin slightly crooked. Then, he offers his hand up over the high counter edge. "I'm Corey, by the way."

Julia plants a hand on her side of the counter and leans over to give his hand a shake. "Julia Velez." The Velez family built the shack, and it's been a boardwalk staple for three generations. "This can't be your first time eating here, or is it just your first time with it under new management?"

"First time in a while, couple'a years maybe," Corey responds, squeezing Julia's hand warmly as he shakes it, then releasing to stuff his hands comfortably in his pockets, adopting a habitual slouch. "Lived away for a bit." An easy explanation. "So, when'd the new management take over? You from your parents, I take it?"

"My mom." Julia explains. Her tone takes on the gently polite tone of someone trying to convey information delicately. "She has had some health problems and the family asked me to come manage things. I was living in San Francisco with my dad before this. What brought you back?"

Propping his shoulder against the counter, leaning comfortably, Corey replies, "College! I just needed a year out, you know? Before committing to all that education." Watching Julia, he bobs his head slightly at the gentler tone, not prying into her mom's health. "Thankfully the stall is in good hands, right? At least, if the smell of the food is any indication." There's a friendly smile with that.

"God, I hope so." Julia says with a weary laugh. "I left a really lush sous position to come here, a really bougie kind of place, you know? The chef special is what I do to stay sane." Speaking of, his order is up, and Julia presents the basket with a flourish. "But form your own opinion."

"Huh!" Corey sounds pleasantly surprised. "I'm super jealous," he adds a moment later, taking the basket and holding it up at chest level, tilting his head down with closed eyes to inhale the spicy, salty, beany aroma of his meal, then opening his eyes slowly, studying the presentation. "Smells good," he notes, taking up a fork if one is nearby - probably plastic or wood - and using the edge to break off a bit of scallop, scooping a few beans, and taking his first mouthful. "Mmmmmf." He sounds like he's enjoying it.

Julia beams, but also with a faint air of 'of course it's good' because chefs be like that. "Thanks." She says, pleased. "So, back to school? What are you studying?"

Chewing slowly and swallowing, Corey admits, "Culinary science." His grin is faintly sheepish. "So, this is like research. Best homework ever." He doesn't say anything else for a while, slowly eating his food, focusing on the flavours and textures rather than just scarfing it down, making plenty of happy 'mm' noises. Pausing for a sip of water he adds, "About to start my second year."

@emit "Good luck." Julia says with easy sincerity. "It's a tough job, but if you love it you'll never want to do anything else. What are you hoping to do when you graduate?"

"I do love it. It's about the only thing I've ever been passionate about," the student replies, his sheepish grin lingering. "Ideally? Work in a research and development kitchen for a few years, then maybe branch out and start my own thing. I'unno." He shrugs, his future not exactly all mapped out. "Giving some thought to baked goods, but. It's a really tough field."

"Well, if you decide you want to pursue that, there's a new local patisserie that opened up, and the owner trained in France. He's got pretty high standards, but if you want to pursue pastry as a specialty, you could see if he's looking to accept apprenticeships." Julia looks thoughtful. "But an R&D job...you know, I never even thought about that route for myself."

Polishing off the last of his meal, Corey disposes of the basket and fork, taking a few sips of water and exhaling contentedly. "That was delicious," he informs, clearly happy. But of course she knew he would be; she made it, after all. "There is?" he then asks, perking up. "Where? And who?" I mean, it's unlikely that a celebrity chef would be opening a place here in Gray Harbor, let alone cooking there personally, but he can live in hope.

Julia is perhaps a little smugly pleased, but hey, she worked for it! "Patisserie Vydal. It's downtown, and the owner is Vyv Vydal. Mr. Vydal, to a job seeker. He's British, continent trained, and I'd suggest being at the top of your respect game if you approach him. If you get to see the kitchen? Try not to drool like I did."

"You always respect the head chef," is Corey's automatic response, his smile dawning again. "Sure, I'll give it a look in. Maybe he needs someone to do the early morning prep or whatever," he adds, optimistically. "I'm more than willing to do the hard graft. It's the only way to learn at the feet of the master." Sure, other professions might have eased back on the 'master and apprentice' approach, but.. yeah. Not this one.

"I'm hoping if I do my time for the family, they'll invest in me." Julia explains. "I want to open my own place. Not sure what kind of cuisine, since I love a couple of different options. But I'll figure it out when the time is right." And her family owes her. "Just promise not to tell him I gave him your name until he hires you. That way if you blow it he won't give me Vydal stink eye." She's joking, from her grin. Mostly. Rep is a big deal in the culinary world.

There's a laugh, at that. Mostly joking, indeed. "Sure thing," Corey promises, nodding, tucking his bottle of water into the pocket of his jeans and folding his arms. "You could always do fusion, or rotate cuisines on a weekly basis, assuming none of them require too much specialist equipment," he then suggests cheerfully. "What are your options in that regard? Other than Cuban, I assume."

@emit "Farm to table." Julia says with a flush of pleasure. "It was my specialty selection at CASA." The Chef Apprenticeship School of the Arts. Hoighty toighty! "I can definitely incorporate in some ways with Cuban cuisine, but a lot of the ingredients aren't viable in the Pacific Northwest climate. Who knows, though?" There's a sly grin accompanied by a one shouldered shrug. Maybe I'll be big enough to own multiple restaurants someday. Like Ramsey, but way hotter."

"Oh, wow. CASA?" Corey sounds impressed, as well he should be. "Farm to table is one of my leanings," he then admits, sounding slightly star-struck. "Maybe you will! And when it happens, I'll totally sell my story of how you personally made me some scallops," he then adds, grinning. "Definitely hotter, though also less sweary. At least, in public. We're all sweary in a kitchen environment."

"This is customer service face." Julia makes a circular motion in the vicinity of the aforementioned body part. "In the kitchen I cuss in two languages, unless my abuela is on deck. She will wash my mouth out with soap, grown ass woman or not."

The student laughs. "Ditto," he admits, ducking his head slightly, then straightening again. "Anyhow, I should probably head home, it's getting late. Thanks for the scallops - oh, when do the specials change?" he asks, expression slyly curious. He wouldn't want to miss out on the next delicacy, after all.

"Each week, on Monday." Julia is happy to self-promote. "Tell your friends! And let me know how it goes with Vyv." She gives him a wave before calling out to one of her employees in Spanish.