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Looking for a sous chef. Restaurant experience not required. Must have a degree from a valid culinary school. Must be able to cook several variations of steak. Starting salary $20.00 an hour. Hours negotiable.
Please contact Laura Hale for details.
“Nope.” Stiles smirked, shaking his head. “No way am I good enough to work at Laura Hale’s restaurant. There’s a reason that Full Moon Steakhouse has won ‘Best Restaurant in Beacon Hills’ for the past four years. I know what the requirements are, every chef there has to have been cooking since before they were born.”
“Stiles, come on,” Lydia coaxed. “The least you can do is apply. Twenty bucks an hour? That’s pretty good for a sous chef that’s fresh out of culinary school. At least call her. What’s the worst that could happen?”
That was Lydia. Ever the optimist. There was a reason she was Stiles’ agent. Finding a job in the culinary field was more cutthroat than showbiz. Every person fresh out of school was eager to prove that their version of Eggs Benedict was better than the rest.
Ok, so maybe it wasn’t as cutthroat as showbiz, but without an agent selling your cooking skills, you were pretty much doomed to work behind the grill at Denny’s for the rest of your life. Not that Denny’s was a bad thing; except Stiles didn’t waste three years of his life in culinary school just to make Lumberjack Slams all day. At least put him at IHOP, their pancakes were world famous.
Culinary school competiveness even got to the point where during final examinations people would try and sabotage other dishes. Stiles literally had to stab someone with his tongs to keep them from putting extra salt on his short ribs. It was chaotic. But that’s what getting a culinary degree meant to some of these people.
Stiles was one of them.
But he would never sabotage someone else’s dish to try and prevent them from getting their degree. (Okay, he might’ve switched Greenburg’s balsamic vinegar with red wine, which would explain why Greenburg’s homemade salad dressing didn’t taste quite right. But Greenburg was a dick and he deserved it.)
“They could tell me no and laugh at me that I had the audacity to try and fill their sous chef position. Lydia, I don’t even make steaks that well. The listing clearly says, ‘be able to make a variety of steaks.’ The best I can do there is Salisbury, Savory and Teriyaki. My specialty is Italian Cuisine. You know as well as I do that Italians don’t eat that much steak.”
Lydia rolled her eyes and smacked Stiles upside the head. “You’re a good chef Stiles. You’re versatile. Even if you can only make three kinds of steaks, applying would be good for you. Maybe Laura won’t want you, but she might know someone that is looking for an Italian specialist. Just call Laura and ask about the opening, it would be good experience for you. And who knows, you might just get the job.”
“Fine,” Stiles grumbled. “But no promises.”
***
And that’s the beginning of the story of how Stiles was standing in the kitchen of Full Moon Steakhouse at eight in the freaking morning in line with six other potential sous chefs, listening to Laura Hale go over the instructions for the day.
“Thank you all for applying to be sous chefs here at Full Moon, I looked over your resumes and I’m very impressed with some of them. Unfortunately we only have one opening for a sous chef, which means only one of you will get a call back.” She clasped her hands together and looked down the line. “So, in the interest of fairness, and because a resume can only tell me so much, I’ve decided to have a cook off.”
Stiles frowned. A cook off? That was absolutely not what he had been expecting. He thought maybe he would interview, maybe whip up a steak or two later in the afternoon, but he definitely had not been expecting to be cooking this early in the morning.
“You have full access to whatever you can find in the kitchen. You all read the application ramifications, so I’m sure you can all make steak. However I want to see what dish defines you as a chef. Make whatever you feel most comfortable with and you think will showcase your style the best. You have forty-five minutes. And Go.”
It was a mad rush as all seven of them rushed to open fridges and cabinets and drawers to try and find anything they could possibly use.
It’s like Iron Chef America in this kitchen, Stiles thought as he elbowed his way to the pasta cabinet.
The fact that he didn’t have to make steak right off the bat, worked very much to his advantage. Full Moon Steakhouse was famous nationwide for how delicious their steaks were, and Stiles didn't need Laura to know that his 'variety' of steaks was limited to three. However, Stiles was a master of all things pasta, thanks to his emphasis in Italian cuisine. He decided to do his version of a creamy bacon carbonara. It had double the bacon and extra butter and whipping cream, instead of eggs. He figured if someone was going to eat comfort food, it better be pretty fucking comforting. Stiles had perfected it during his time in culinary school and it was a bit of a signature dish for him. If he couldn’t win a cook-off with his carbonara, then he couldn’t win at all.
Stiles quickly grabbed all the ingredients he needed. Thankfully most of the other sous chefs were grabbing things like pork loin, lobster, racks of lambs and whole chickens, leaving Stiles to raid the pasta cabinet. Stiles watched in awe as one of the more confident sous chefs beheaded, scaled and fileted a trout in less than twenty seconds. Stiles’ eyes widened, competition was fierce.
He managed to find a stove in between Aquaman, destroyer of trout, and another sous chef who was doing terrible things to a chicken. Stiles quickly started heating up a pot of water for his noodles, while taking out a frying pan to start the bacon.
“So what are you making?” Stiles asked Aquaman. He couldn’t help it, he was a talker, always had been, always will be. It had gotten him into trouble a couple of times in culinary school. Stiles had a nasty habit of trying to make conversation while pastry chefs were working with blowtorches. That was a crisis very nearly avoided. When Aquaman didn’t answer and continued hacking away at the poor trout, Stiles quickly shut up.
Ok, no more games, Stiles thought. If you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen.
After his non-altercation with Aquaman (you couldn’t really call it an altercation because Aquaman didn’t say anything. He just kept killing the already dead trout) Stiles immersed himself in his cooking. Cooking just lifted his spirits; he loved creating something delicious out of things that weren’t delicious on their own. He was so lost in his carbonara that he almost missed the time warnings that Laura was giving out.
“Five minutes left,” Laura called.
Stiles nodded as he began plating his dish. Laura had instructed them to make enough for six people, so he suspected that Laura wouldn’t be alone in her decision of who would be the new sous chef.
“Thirty seconds left.” Laura called.
Stiles looked up and saw that four additional people had joined Laura at her table. One of them had really curly hair with a cute face, complete with adorable blue eyes and a friendly smile. He looked like one of those child TV stars turned models. His face was that beautiful. Sitting next to him was another guy with a crooked jaw line. His brown hair framed his face nicely and he was looking at blue eyes with a fond expression on his face.
They were obviously together.
Across from Crooked Jaw sat All-American Good Looks. Stiles could tell just by looking at him that the guy thought he was better than everyone else. Sitting next to him was Beautiful Blondie. She was gorgeous, and she had this aura like she knew that everyone wanted to get in her pants. She looked incredibly comfortable sitting around the table full of guys and Laura, like she was part of this boys’ club and no one was going to take her out.
There was an empty seat next to Laura, and Stiles had no idea who that could possibly belong to. Whoever it was had to be as attractive as the rest of the people at the table. Hopefully physical appearances weren’t criteria for being a chef here, because compared to the other model-esque figures at the table Stiles should just hang up his apron now.
“While we’re waiting for my brother, I’d like to begin,” Laura spoke up. “So I’m going to call your name and you’re going to present your dish to the six of us,” she paused and looked across the room. “It’s about time you showed up.”
Stiles turned his head at the direction Laura was facing, and had to pick his jaw up off the ground. Walking, no stalking into the restaurant was easily the hottest guy that Stiles had ever seen. Sure the other people at the table were good looking, but this guy took the cake. Everything about him was perfect.
His black hair was styled perfectly, he had a beautiful layer of stubble coating his already perfect face and his eyes were the perfect shade of hazel-green. He had perfect eyebrows and they were turned down in a perfect grumpy scowl and suddenly Stiles really wanted to be a sous chef here.
“We don’t need a new sous chef Laura,” Grumpy Eyebrows growled. “I already told you I could handle it. You’re always trying to bring in someone new.”
And wow, Grumpy Eyebrows had a bad attitude. Maybe Stiles didn’t want to be a sous chef here after all.
“Can it, baby bro,” Laura grinned as Grumpy Eyebrows sat down in between her and Beautiful Blondie. “These seven sous chefs have been slaving over hot stoves for the past forty-five minutes. The least you can do is give them some helpful criticism. And play nice, because one of them is going to be your new sous chef.”
Oh, so Grumpy Eyebrows was the head chef. It wasn’t exactly surprising. All of the head chefs at back at culinary school had been irritable and cranky, but none of them had been as attractive as Eyebrows over here.
“Fine, but I’m not playing nice. I’m going to be one hundred percent honest.”
“Fair enough,” Laura grinned, then she turned back to address Stiles and the rest of the sous chefs. “Um, I haven’t exactly put names to faces yet, so instead we’re just going to go down the line.” She smiled at the first chef, a small petite blonde girl, nowhere near Beautiful Blondie’s league. “If you don’t mind?”
Stiles was very glad that he was the last one in the line. His creamy bacon carbonara was going to slay Grumpy Eyebrows and the rest of the Attractive Brigade. These other dishes didn’t stand a chance.
“My name is Sophie, and what I have prepared for you is a succulent rack of lamb roasted in garlic and thyme. Enjoy.”
“This is terrible,” Grumpy Eyebrows growled as he took his first bite. “The lamb is way overcooked and there is entirely too much thyme on this. I have no idea where you got your degree from, but you need to go back and start over, because this is honestly the worst rack of lamb I have ever had. I can’t even finish it.” He pushed the lamb away from him and folded his arms across his chest, daring Sophie to say anything.
Ok wow, Grumpy Eyebrows wasn’t pulling punches. Sophie looked like she was about to cry.
“I kind of liked it,” Adorable Blue-Eyes said sheepishly. He ran a hand through his curls nervously, like disrespecting Grumpy Eyebrows’ judgment was a cardinal sin. “I thought it tasted pretty good.”
“There’s a reason why you’re the host,” Grumpy Eyebrows shot back. “You’re supposed to stand there, look pretty and be friendly. Clearly you don’t know anything about lamb, because that was honestly terrible.”
Blue-Eyes looked sad for a moment, but then brightened up when Crooked Jaw whispered something in his ear and kissed his cheek. All-American Good Looks mimed throwing up and Beautiful Blondie still looked beautiful.
“Thank you Sophie,” Laura said sweetly. “Next.”
One by one, the sous chefs lined up and presented their dishes to the lion’s den. No one was spared Grumpy Eyebrows’ wrath.
“You call this pizza margherita? I’ve had better pizza from Domino’s. Was this some kind of joke? Did you really think that this was good enough to serve to people? I can’t believe that you would pass this off as gourmet. Maybe gourmet to homeless people.”
“That may have been the most atrocious lobster bisque I have ever tasted. It was like you took the lobster right out of the sewers of Boston, heated it in the microwave and put it on my plate. You’re a disgrace to your culinary school. ”
“So I’m a little torn with this dish. You said it was a baked pork loin, but it tastes like day old chicken nuggets from McDonalds. I don’t know if I want to try and throw it up now, or wait until later.”
No one was safe. When Aquaman presented his magic trout to Grumpy Eyebrows and company, Stiles held his breath. It was about to be really good, or really bad.
“It’s not terrible,” Grumpy Eyebrows was saying as he chewed. “I think I would’ve liked the trout to be a little more buttery, but considering all the garbage I’ve had to swallow this morning, it’s almost delicious by comparison. Almost.”
“I didn’t like it,” Beautiful Blondie spoke up, as the rest of her attractive friends nodded in agreement. “I thought it was a little too rubbery.”
“I think all the seasoning took away from the natural flavor of the trout,” Crooked Jaw added. “It would’ve been better if he played off the flavor of the trout instead of trying to overpower it with spices.”
“I liked it,” Blue Eyes blushed. “I thought it was yummy.” God, Stiles just wanted to hold him and hug him and never let him go. He was so adorable.
“None of you know what you’re talking about,” Grumpy Eyebrows seethed. “There’s a reason why you’re all waiters and sous chefs. That was decent trout.”
“Dude the only reason you’re head chef is because Laura is your sister, and no one else wants to have to deal with all that cooking,” All-American Good Looks cut in. “Personally I’m fine being a pastry chef. But the trout wasn’t that good. Deal with it. There’s still one more dish left. Why don’t you focus on all the reasons that you’re going to hate it?”
Grumpy Eyebrows huffed and rolled his eyes, and in that moment Stiles was determined to rock this guys’ taste buds with his carbonara.
“Thank you, Arthur,” Laura said to Aquaman. And of course his name would be Arthur. “And last but not least…?” She asked, looking at Stiles expectantly.
Stiles carefully laid all of his dishes out on the table, taking care not to look any of the Attractive Brigade in the eyes as he did so. When he finished he stepped back and started explaining his dish.
“Hi, I’m Stiles, and what I have for you today is…”
“Stop, just stop.” Grumpy Eyebrows interrupted. “That is honestly the worst looking Pasta Primavera I have ever seen. I don’t even want to eat it, it looks so bad.”
Stiles narrowed his eyes. No one insulted his creamy bacon carbonara without even trying it. And no one insulted his creamy bacon carbonara after they tried it either.
“It’s actually a Creamy Bacon Carbonara asshole,” Stiles snapped. “And for the record, it’s supposed to look like that.”
A hush fell over the room. Blue-Eyes was looking at Stiles with a puppy dog expression and Crooked Jaw was doing the same. All-American Good Looks quirked an eyebrow, while Beautiful Blondie was eyeing Stiles up and down like a piece of meat. Laura was continuing to eat her pasta (score!), while Grumpy Eyebrows looked like he wanted to ring Stiles’ neck.
“As I was saying,” Stiles continued, matching Grumpy Eyebrows’ glare with a glare of his own. “What you have in front of you is a Creamy Bacon Carbonara. It’s a little bit different than the classic version, there’s double the bacon and you'll notice the sauce is composed of extra whipping cream and butter instead of eggs to give it that extra hearty taste. Enjoy.”
“Do you have any more?” Adorable Blue-Eyes asked as Crooked Jaw vigorously nodded his head in agreement. “That was delicious.”
“I think I have a little bit more on the stove, I could check if…”
“Probably the best carbonara I’ve ever had,” All American Good Looks added, while Beautiful Blondie fixed Stiles with a look that made him rethink his sexuality.
“I enjoyed it as well,” Laura smiled. “What did you think baby bro? Satisfactory?”
“No comment,” Grumpy Eyes frowned, but Stiles noticed that his plate was clean. He smirked to himself. Carbonara: 1 Eyebrows: 0.
***
Three days later he got a call from Laura.
“Hi, is this Stiles?”
“Yes it is.”
“Hi Stiles, it’s Laura from Full Moon. We would love to have you as our new sous chef. Are you still interested in the job?”
Stiles almost dropped the phone in excitement. Him? Stiles Stilinski working alongside the Attractive Brigade? Making $20.00 an hour doing what he loved? Getting to irritate Grumpy Eyebrows with his delicious Italian cuisine?
He’d be an idiot not to take that offer.
“I would love it.”