2019-09-10 - Milkshakes & Sweet Potato Fries

It's a thundery Summer afternoon. Rain has lashed down, winds have blown, thunder and lightning have put on a show, but now there's a (probably brief) lull in the downpour. Corey has taken the opportunity to dash out for a meal he didn't have to cook himself, possibly seeking inspiration - though whether he'll find it somewhere like the Grizzly Den is anyone's guess.

Wearing a hooded jacket that's unzipped with the hood falling back against her back, Claire jogs up to the entrance to the diner and steps inside. She's dressed in a pair of comfortable old jeans and a green, short-sleeved top, plus sneakers; the pantlegs of the jeans are wet from the prior downpor. Once inside, she looks around as if she hasn't seen the place before and then flickers a brown-eyed gaze from two men in business casual, to an eldertly couple in a booth, then to Corey where he's seated. Should he look in her direction while she's doing this scan, the ginger offers him an energetic smile. No one seems bustling to come up to seat her, so Claire grabs a menu and starts perusing it.

Sat up at the delightfully retro formica counter, on one of the stools, Corey has just placed his order and had a coke delivered, his gaze likewise sweeping the room. He happens to be looking over at the same time Claire is looking at him, and he flashes a friendly, lazy grin her way in return. "Recommend the burgers here," he offers, given she's looking around like she's not yet had the Grizzly Den experience.

Still no one to seat her, so Claire carries her self-appointed menu over to the counter and puts a hand on the seat next to Corey, setting the menut at the place setting she stands beside. "Good to know. It seems as bustling as Gray Harbor in here. Okay if I join you?" Should Corey agree, she slides onto a counter seat and pulls her phone and wallet out of her pocket, setting them to the side before picking up the menu once again. "Burgers, hmm?"

"Sure thing, babe," Corey affirms easily enough, not minding the company. "Yeah, the rest of the food is okay, the burgers are better," he confirms as to his recommendation, though of course that's just his opinion. "For all that there's better food elsewhere, the Den gets the student vote 'cause it's cheap, and the fall semester started last week."

Claire contemplates the menu with that experiential wisdom applied, a flickered sidelong look and smile of amusement at the 'babe' nomenclature. Back to her perusing. "I'm guessing the guacamole is not a good bet here." She folds her menu and drops it on the counter and settles back in her seat while perching her feet on the stool's footstand, not yet realizing ordering will take a bit more than simply waiting for a waitress to appear. She smiles once more, an easy, freegoing expression from the young twenty-something. "Thanks for the advice. I'm Claire. You a local or a transplant?"

"Corey, and yeah, local. Spent almost all my life here," the student replies with another lazy smile. "Welcome to Gray Harbor, at least I'm guessing you're a transplant if the Grizzly Den is a new experience for you." He takes a sip of his drink, lifting his free hand to make a so-so waggle when she mentions the quality of the guac.

Claire glances about for a server and still doesn't see one. Lifting a hand to tuck a strand of auburn hair behind her ear, Claire replies, "Definitely a transplant. Only about a week new. Still totally going through culture shock of a small town. Hey, answer me this: would you say this town is crazy and dangerous?" There's a reason for the question, clearly, if the way she asks the question is any indication.

"Huh?" Corey looks bemused at the question. "Gray Harbor? It's nowhere town on a boring stretch of the coast. Crazy and dangerous? Sleepy and forgettable." He sounds dismissive, then adds, "You know you've got to go up to the counter to order, right?" Because she hasn't, and seems to be waiting, and it's a good diversion.

Claire leans her forearm in toward the counter as Corey answers. "Yeah yeah, normal and crazy and sleepy and crazy. That's what everyone says. You don't get how odd that sounds?" She doesn't expect given his response that he will, or will at least admit to as much. "Oh. The counter, huh? So strange." She slides off the stool and heads back over to the counter. After waiting another minute or two, she catches sight of a waitress in the back and waves, "Hey, you. Yeah, you! Would you take my order? I'm starved."

The waitress does a little 'who me' look at the ginger. Claire smirks and leans into the counter when the woman finally ambles up to the counter. "Yeah, a cheeseburger, medium well, some fries and a chocolate milkshake. Unless you guys use the mixes. Do you?" The waitress shakes her head, "What mixes?" Claire drops her head then lifts it with a smile once again. "Just -- a chocolate milkshake if it's made with ice cream back there and not some frozen chemical sludge. If not? I'll just take a coke. And thanks uh... Betty."

The waitress wearing the nametag bearing that name gives Claire an odd look and meanders back to the kitchen. Claire returns her menu to where she grabbed it from and slides back onto the stool beside Corey's. "Charming. Just absolutely ... charming," shs states in a droll tone.

There's no direct answer to Claire's challenge; Corey sips his coke, and while she's off ordering, his grilled cheese is delivered, along with a side of sweet potato fries. He gets going on eating it, keeping half an ear on the conversation between the newcomer and the waitress, half his sandwich devoured by the time she finally gets back to her stool.

"Like I said, the Den has the student demographic. If you want great food and great service, you'll want somewhere else. Firehouse Burgers and BBQ is good, as is the Fried Fish stand down on the boardwalk." He sounds, at least in this, like he's very confident in the accuracy of his advice.

Claire abandons hope for a more specific answer on the general mood of the small town. She listens to his expertise on the brand of fooding one does at the GBD and nods once. "Got it. So are you a student then? Keeping to the guidelines for your demographic?"

"I am indeed, though for me, this is something of a guilty pleasure," Corey admits with a rueful smile. "I'm studying Culinary Science. My professors would probably be appalled to see me in here, but." One shoulder is lifted, rolled in a slight shrug. "Sometimes you just want greasy junk food."

Claire's brows lift as she hears the focu of Corey's studies. Her gaze flickers to his grilled cheese and back to his face and she laughs delightedly. "Greasy junk food. I'll bet all the fresh rosemary and goose liver and freshly flayed venison cheeks get tiresome after awhile, sure Corey. A good grilled cheese is better medicine in my book than chicken soup. Add a fresh-made milkshake? You've got magic, right there." Speaking of magic, Claire's food arrives. She watches as it's set before her. "Looks palatable. Thanks, Betty." She gets a chocolate milkshake after all, though it looks like too much ice cream was used and not enough milk. But Claire's not complaining about the glass full of ice-cream.

Betty rolls her eyes and leaves a ticket for Claire to pay with. Claire opens the burger and applies plenty of ketchup and mustard to it. She pulls the onion slice off the burger then closes it again. With a dull knife she cuts the burger in half, then pops a french fry in her mouth. "So you've always lifed in Gray Harbor? Do you plan to cook here after you graduate? Or are you going off to some famous culinary school in Paris next?"

There's a laugh in kind from Corey, and he nods to Claire's observations about all those nice foody things, eating the other half of his grilled cheese while she receives her order. "Mostly here, yeah. Had a year out in Canada before starting college, but otherwise." He nods, sipping from his glass of coke before continuing, "Neither. I'm hoping to get a place with a research and development kitchen. There's a good one in Seattle, so I figure if I work hard at getting a good grade, that's the next step."

Claire lifts her half cheeseburger from her plate to take a big bite, then sets it down and grabs her napkin with a little murmur. After she's swallowed her bite she flickers her attention to Corey's sweet potato fries to his face, and back to the fries. "R&D. Sounds exciting. So you're not looking to start your own restaurant or something? How does a person get a job in food R&D? Seattle has always sounded like a fun place to live." As opposed to the San Francisco transplant's experience of Gray Harbor so far. Still, she doesn't sound particularly bitter. Just completely stumped about how to live life in a small town.

"Mostly, show a good understanding of food science, and have lots of ideas for experimentation, and the patience to work through it," Corey nutshells, one brow raising slightly as he notes that look, a hand curling defensively around his bowl of sweet potato fries. "Oh, no. No tuber-based theft going on here, babe. You want one of these, you gotta earn it."

Claire picks up her burger again. "Give me an example of something you might experiment on? Making something more golden brown? Or the best way to soften carrots? Or something completely different than that?" She waves her left hand expansively at her last question, then dips in for another bite while listening with interest.

"It's a variety of things. Like, why does other fruit go bad when you store it with bananas? And how do you stop it? That came out of a research kitchen, the notion of storing bananas above other fruit so they don't over-ripen everything. Likewise, how to bake a tasty cake without using any gluten, or how to make pancakes without using dairy. Plus obviously food combinations, like the craze for salted caramel. All of that," Corey outlines helpfully, finishing off his sandwich and pushing the plate to one side, before picking up and munching on one of his fries.

Claire finishes half her burger as she listens. She wipes her hands on her napkin again and reaches for her cup-o-ice-cream and a spoon. Chocolate-y goodness, achieved she answers thoughtfully. "That's pretty fascinating. But I'll bet you need a lot of chemistry and biology to figure out those kinds of things. You taking a lot of science?" Mmm almost-milkshake. Corey's gained some thoughtful interest from the grumpy transplant.

"Some, not as much as you'd think. Then again different chefs specialise in different areas, so the ones focusing on things like how to safely store food will have more need of the science than the chefs working on interesting new flavour combos." Corey glances to the milkshake, seemingly one Claire is enjoying, and then he reluctantly tilts his bowl of sweet potato fries over. A cautious offering. "So, how come you've moved here, anyway? Apparently without knowing much about the place?"

Claire flickers another glance to the vastly superior sweet potato fries and dimples a grin at Corey. "Thanks." She sets down the glass of ice cream and snags an orange fry. "Want some 'milkshake'?" Her brown eyes twinkle with amusement as she eats one of her new acquantance's fries. "Oh that?" Why they moved here?' My brother and I were living in San Francisco and we were notified that our dad died up here and left us his house. Since we were hardly making enough to pay for where we lived each month down there, it seemed like a good alternative. It's just a giant lifestyle change. Like, where does a person even go for a good party up here?" She waves a hand demonstratively of what little she has to work with.

"Nah, I'm good. I prefer to eat my calories," Corey muses, settling back and eating his fries, occasionally offering Claire another. "Good party? Two If By Sea, a bar on the waterfront," he offers then. "Yeah, I can imagine it's a bit different, though I've never lived in a seriously big city, so it's just that, imagination."

Claire returns her attention to her ice cream. "I'll bet you do." A thorough once over of the chef and she smirks. "Two If By Sea, hmm? I'll check it out. Do they have dancing there?" She shakes her head slowly at the thought of never having lived in a big city. "You're in for a treat. Though, I'm betting there are some things you'll miss about small time life if that's what you've always known." She admits the last bit reluctantly. "Any other suggestions for fun in Gray Harbor?"

Corey makes a so-so gesture. "Sometimes. It doesn't have a dance floor, but it opens onto the beach, where there are firepits and stuff. Occasionally there's dancing on the beach as people get more inebriated," he explains. "If you want dancing, the Firefly Club is it, though I wouldn't go alone. Make some local friends, take 'em there."

"That just sounds fun. Thanks, Corey." Claire doesn't have to sound so surprised. "So where do you go to school around here? Is there a community college or satellite campus?" She taps her fingertips on the counter's edge. "Firefly Club. But not alone? Well that's not intriguing at all." She eats another few sweet potato fries and then pushes her plate again. "So full." Only half a cheesburger and most of her ice cream.

"Washington State University - Hoquiam Campus," Corey answers the first question easily enough, making a vague 'thattaway' gesture. "It's about ten minutes drive outside town, they've got a decent setup. As for the Firefly Club.. well, it's never been proven but there's always rumours about crime going down there. The owner's been indicted loads of times, but nothing ever sticks."

Claire flickers a glance in the direction of the gesture as if she'd be able to see the next town over by looking from a stool at the diner. "How much time do you have left on your degree?" Claire reaches for her wallet and pulls out a ten and two ones to leave atop her check, then she sets the wallet back down and settles her chin in her palm, her elbow on the countertop. "Innnteresting," she muses, seeming more interested than the average young twenty-something would typically be. "What kinds of crime? Drugs and prostitution? Or more white collar stuff?"

Corey munches on a fry, then sips his coke and responds. "Just started my second year, one more after that," with respect to his course. "Honestly, I don't know. I imagine you could probably google it and see news articles, but off the top of my head I don't know what exactly is alleged." Another fry, another sip, and he asks, "You heading out?"

"You're going fast then. Finished in three?" Maybe it's an associate's degree. Claire retains the right to be imporessed. Betty drifts by since there's money to be had and Claire says, "I don't need any change, Betty. Thanks." Betty just looks at Claire as if she's too odd a duck to reply to and takes away the dishes with varying amounts of food remaining. Claire turns back to Corey, "I was gonna go walk on the beach in the rain." She glances to the windows. "Maybe in the rain if it ... actually starts raining again. I like the sound of the breakers and the smell of the ocean. What about you?"

There's a faintly embarrassed smile from Corey. "I've been doing extra units," he acknowledges quietly, finishing his fries and likewise dropping a few bills next to his empty plates. "No fixed plans, babe. I'm game if you want company, or happy to part ways here if you prefer walking alone," he then voices.

Claire's brows slide upward. "Oh. Sure! You can come along. I'm feeling a little bit like a snotty big-city girl and you're the charming small-town collegiate. But if you're into that, then definitely come with. Just so long as you don't mind getting wet." She smiles an animated smile at Corey with something akin to a challenge in her brown eyes.

That comparison earns a laugh from Corey. "Hey, at least I made 'charming'," he remarks, rising from his stool and gesturing towards the door. "Shall we?" He does, at least, calling back over his shoulder, "Cheers, Bets," towards the waitress, glancing out through the door to confirm that the rain has indeed returned, and then stepping on out into it. It's warm rain, at least.

Claire's laughter is easy and warm. "You definitely made 'charming', Corey. Maybe even before you shared your fries. It was nice of you to make a new girl like me feel welcome in a very strange new place." She accompanies Corey out of the door and turns her face up into the rain. "Yes! We're definitely getting wet." A quick grin to Corey and she heads in the right direction toward the beach, perhaps surprisingly. Claire neither zips up her jacket nor pulls up her jacket's hood. She actually looks as though she'd like to divest herself of the jacket entirely. "C'mon, chef."