Page 18 of Babydaddy To Go
I pause after the final group on this side and cleanse my pallet with crackers and water. Reluctantly, I pay a visit to the group closest to the rear on the other side. Miraculously, their food doesn’t make me want to die. Both of them nailed medium well on the steaks. I make a note in my scorebook that they should get good grades on this first assignment. They also did well on my scavenger hunt. I have a feeling these two are going to be star students.
“What are your names?” I ask the two boys.
“Kyle,” the taller one tells me.
“Stephen,” adds the other.
“Well, done, Kyle and Stephen. I look forward to tasting more of your dishes throughout the year.”
The two boys beam. As fun as it is to tear the students down, it’s nearly as fun to build them up. It can’t be all negative.
Three tables later, and I’m standing in front of Alyssa and her table partner, Samantha. Samantha’s chef’s coat is unbuttoned at the top, revealing a lack of proper under-attire. I choose not to point it out.
“You’re a great instructor,” Samantha gushes. “I’ve learned so much today. I think you’ll find my steak is perfectly done and my potatoes are fluffy and flavorful.”
She smiles at me like I’m the steak and she’s starving. Beside her, Alyssa scowls. Good! I decide to play off of Samantha’s flirting, even though I feel nothing for the girl.
“I’m sure you did wonderfully,” I tell Samantha. I allow myself to check Alyssa’s reaction. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are hurt. It’s for the best. No one can know that we were together last night, and no one can know how attracted I am to her.
When I left Alyssa’s last night, I assumed she would be angry with me when she found out who I am. As I fell asleep, I realized it didn’t matter. A teacher can’t fall for one of his students, and that’s that. It’s not explicitly against any rules here at the academy, but it’s frowned upon in general. Alyssa is off limits. That’s why I need to push her away today. If flirting with Samantha and putting down Alyssa’s dish is what it takes, then that’s what I’m going to do.
Samantha arches her back so that the curve of her breasts peek out of the top of her chef’s coat. It’s pretty desperate, to say the least. Right now though, it’s harmless, so I allow her to keep up her little games.
She hands me a knife and fork and gives me minimal space to taste her food. Samantha’s slender body is leaning up against my side as I slice through her perfectly cooked steak. I take the bite, and it’s a bit under-seasoned, but it’s among the best dishes of the class.
“Excellent work, Samantha! Your steak is exactly medium rare and the exterior is seared to perfection. You’re a natural.”
Alyssa looks like she might throw up beside us. I ignore the hurt and take a taste of Samantha’s mashed potatoes. They’re runnier than they should be, but they taste delicious. She put the right amount of seasoning, including some dill for extra flavor. I love dill in my mashed potatoes. Is it possible that Samantha only did that because she read in an interview that I like dill? I know I’ve said dill mashed potatoes are my favorite food in plenty of magazine articles and blog posts.
“Delicious, Samantha. You added just the right amount of flavor to enhance the potatoes without overpowering them. Excellent work.”
Samantha leans into me to thank me in a suggestive voice. I hate desperate girls like this, but we’re in the middle of a classroom session so it’s tough to put a lid on her overtures. Alyssa is giving us both dirty looks, but she doesn’t say a word. I didn’t think she would. The Alyssa I met yesterday was quiet and reserved. Shy girls don’t usually call out their teachers for flirting with students, even if said teacher took the shy girl out for a date the night before.
Alyssa’s dish is next and the potatoes look a thousand times better than Samantha’s. Luckily for me, the steak is burnt on one side.
“You managed medium rare, but what is this sear? Did I tell you to brand the cow before you served it to me?”
“N-no,” she stutters. “I got distracted…”
“Distracted?” I shout. “There’s no distraction in the kitchen. That causes fires and unhappy customers. You do not get distracted when you are a chef. Do you understand?”
This time, Alyssa only nods.
I chew the steak for a while, taking in the flavors. Taste-wise, it could be better.
“What spices did you use on this?”
“Salt, pepper, garlic powder, onion power, and a dash of mesquite flavoring.”
That’s what is throwing off the flavor. “Did you bump the mesquite and drop it onto the steak when you were prepping it?”
“No, I did it on purpose.”
“Wrong answer,” I say. “I didn’t ask you to experiment today, Miss Hall. I wanted a steak with simple seasonings. Do you have trouble following instructions?”
Alyssa opens her mouth to argue, but I shut her down. “That was a rhetorical question, Miss Hall. If you have a question about an assignment in the future, please ask instead of taking it upon yourself to make changes to what I requested. Would you do this with a customer’s order?”
“Of course not, sir,” she replies.