Chapter 868: Last Service Before Bloom Week
The clinking of crystal glasses, a high-pitched tinkle against the low thrum of conversation, filled the air of Spark. Night of April 24th. Months’ worth of polished service shone in the amber glow of the chandeliers, reflecting off the mahogany tables packed so tightly, yet somehow, silently. A waiter, his charcoal grey uniform crisp enough to stand alone, navigated the room with the grace of a dancer, a laden silver platter held steady as a ship on calm seas. He expertly weaved between a couple sharing hushed laughter over steaming plates – "...and then, the llama just *spat* at the vicar!" – and a lone diner, absently swirling the ruby depths of his wine. The scent of rosemary and roasting lamb hung heavy, a rich counterpoint to the subtle jasmine notes of the room’s perfume, all underscored by a mellow saxophone weaving its way through the space. Even the murmur of voices was absorbed by plush velvet banquettes and thick, hand-woven rugs. A single, stray laugh, sharp and bright, briefly cut through the orchestrated harmony before fading back into the warm, elegant hum of Spark.
At table five, Mr. Henderson, a regular, meticulously examined his sea soup. ’These are excellent, just as always, ’ he thought, savoring the taste. He glanced at his wife, who smiled serenely, her thoughts occupied with the pleasant evening. ’I can’t wait to eat the soufflé,’ she reflected.
It was their second time at The Spark, so they already had their favorite dishes.
At a secluded table in the corner, a young couple, on their first date, nervously exchanged glances. The young woman, internally fretting about making a good impression, carefully cut her steak. The young man, conversely, was preoccupied with making sure he didn’t spill his wine. *Don’t spill the wine. Don’t spill the wine,* he repeatedly thought.
Throughout the restaurant, the sounds of cutlery against china, hushed conversations, and the low hum of background music created a harmonious, yet vibrant atmosphere. The air smelled of roasted herbs and warm bread. Each customer, in their own way, enjoyed the ambiance and the consistently high quality of the food.
In the bustling kitchen of The Spark, Chef Theo and Sous Chef Ayia orchestrated a harmonious dance of their own. The kitchen, a stark contrast to the elegant dining room, was a hive of controlled chaos. Cooks moved with purpose, their movements efficient and precise as they tended to sizzling pans and bubbling pots. The air was thick with the aroma of garlic and herbs, a heady mix that stimulated both appetite and sweat. Despite the pressure, the kitchen ran like a well-oiled machine, each cook focused on their task, contributing to the seamless service.
With each order that came through the monitor, Theo called the order, and the cooks replied, a rhythmic exchange echoing in the cramped kitchen. The clatter of pans and sizzle of oil provided a percussive counterpoint to Theo’s crisp pronouncements:
"One Main Number 2 and One Main Number 3!" "Got it!" a voice would boom back.
As they had worked for almost a year together already, they developed codes for each plate. Main Number 2 meant the main course from the Second Menu of the restaurant.
Then, a flurry of activity – flour flying, spatulas flipping, the rhythmic chop-chop-chop of a knife. Sometimes, Theo had to repeat an order, the kitchen’s cacophony swallowing his words. He’d learned to enunciate clearly, his voice honed sharp by years of working in the bustling environment. He knew the cooks – their strengths, their weaknesses, even their moods. He adjusted his calls accordingly, adding a playful jab to one, offering a word of encouragement to another, all while keeping the orders flowing smoothly, a conductor orchestrating the kitchen’s chaotic symphony. The air hung thick with the aroma of baking bread, melting cheese, and simmering sauce, a fragrant testament to the relentless rhythm of the pizza kitchen.
But calling the orders wasn’t the only task the head chef, Chef Theo, had; his eyes sharp and attentive, he oversaw the preparation of each dish, ensuring it met his exacting standards. His attention to detail was legendary, and he took pride in the kitchen’s ability to consistently deliver exceptional cuisine. And he checked each plate before it left the kitchen. If he thought that a certain dish wasn’t up to standard, he would ask the cook responsible to fix it.
But after working for a few months together already, everyone already knew Theo’s standards, so Theo rarely asked them to redo the dish anymore.
Ayia, his trusted sous chef, moved with graceful agility, her hands a blur as she chopped, sliced, and plated with meticulous care. Their collaboration was a testament to their chemistry of partnership, each anticipating the other’s needs without a word. Even though the two of them were a couple, during working hours, they behaved extremely well and seriously, as they took their profession as cooks extremely seriously.
The other cooks worked together as if they were oiled cogs of a machine, a well-rehearsed orchestra in crisp white jackets. Some, fresh-faced and eager, wielded their knives with the nervous precision of newly graduated surgeons; others, seasoned veterans with hands gnarled and strong like ancient olive trees, moved with a practiced ease that bordered on artistry. One meticulously arranged garnishes, a tiny edible masterpiece perched atop each plate. Another, a master of the sauté pan, coaxed vibrant colours and intoxicating aromas from humble vegetables. Still another, a pastry whiz, spun sugar into delicate threads, a testament to years spent perfecting delicate techniques. But each one of them, regardless of experience or specialty, possessed an undeniable talent. Their individual skills, seamlessly interwoven, resulted in a symphony of flavors and textures; each dish a perfect expression of their collaborative artistry. The air hummed with focused energy, the clatter of pans a rhythmic counterpoint to the low murmur of conversation, punctuated by the occasional sharp crackle of perfectly browned crust. It was a ballet of culinary precision, a testament to teamwork and a shared passion for their craft.
The kitchen buzzed with activity as the cooks worked tirelessly, plating each dish with care. The sea soup, a signature favorite, was meticulously prepared, each delicate flavor balanced to perfection. The soufflés, light and airy, were carefully monitored to ensure they rose to fluffy perfection. And the Lasagna, which was the most famous dish of the restaurant, as it was here that this dish was introduced to the world.
Months after Theo introduced Lasagna in his restaurant, the people of Elffire City had started copying this dish. More and more households have tried making this dish, and even some restaurants put this dish on their menu.
But Theo didn’t care; he was even happy about this phenomenon as he wanted the whole world to know how delicious lasagna was.
The restaurant employees were especially happy at the end of their work shift on that Saturday night. That was because tomorrow, Sunday, April 25th, their holiday week would start. Which meant that they didn’t have work for a whole week!
Bloom Week was a significant week for every Sakurean, so most of them had plans for this holiday week.