Chapter Text
Carmy wipes sweat from his forehead. Everything’s burnt. Fuck. Everything’s burnt.
How the hell is he supposed to pull this fucking hole out of the fucking bottom when his mirepoix just turned to ash? Because these shitty old aluminum pans heat up in a second.
Such a weak excuse for the so-called "most excellent CDC at the most excellent restaurant in the entire United States of America." Used to working on steel, back in those fancy kitchens (with ten-page sanitation checklists). Fucking hell.
"Chef, your wife needs help outside." Carmy looks at Ebraheim walking by. These motherfucking pans were definitely here before he was.
What, wife?
"What?"
"Chef Sydney’s back from the farmers’ market." Ebra explains it to him like he’s a little idiot.
"Right. I’ll go."
Carmy turns off the burner and dumps the pan of burnt vegetables into the sink with a dramatic clatter. Of course.
In the back yard, Sydney pulls a bag of orange bell peppers out of the trunk of his shitty car. She’s been working here less than two weeks, and he handed her the keys in the middle of lunch rush when they realized they’d have no onions by dinner — smart move, Carmy.
"Yo. Weren’t you supposed to go get shallots? We still ran out."
"Chef, it’s pepper season!" Sydney waves a glossy orange bell pepper in front of him. "I couldn’t help it, look how juicy! Perfect for lemon chicken, and grilled. Oh, Marcus can make a quiche for family meal! Smell it, right?!" She pokes him gently with the pepper. Her bright eyes sparkle with excitement.
Carmy leans in, sniffs the pepper, breathes in its crisp, earthy scent. He smiles at Sydney’s enthusiasm.
In the trunk of the car, eleven pounds of onions wait for him.