Yes Chef

Devon’s lips curl into a reluctant smirk and he raises his hand to scratches growing beard while trying to figure out the best way to approach the question. Feelings? Crushing? It all felt very childish when those words were used, but he would’ve been lying if he said there was nobody that came to mind.

Clearing his throat, he sucks in a breath before continuing. “She’s smart, really intelligent and quick-witted. She challenges everything I say without being condescending or comin’ off as a know-it-all. It’s cool ‘cause it makes me a think a little more about the way I approach some things now. Honestly, I barely know her. But she seems like someone I’d want to keep around for a while.”

Olivia nodded and shrugged. “I wouldn’t dream of taking them anywhere else. If him and my mother come to visit me sometime that is,” she replied with a warm smile, quickly skipping past the subject as she watched him turn off the cooker and let the flame flicker out. He then handed her a fork and she took it, watching as he retrieved a piece of chocolate cake from the fridge. She leaned over and took a forkful, looking at it for a second before putting it in her mouth and humming. “It’s okay. You know I’ll stay as late as it takes to get some free cake,” she joked, smirking at him before turning serious again and shaking her head lightly. “Really though, it’s no problem. I don’t have any classes until the afternoon tomorrow,” she continued. She enjoyed being able to spend time with people even if it did end up being until late, because it was so rare for her to get free time and not have to worry about all the work she had to do. 

“I might be basing this off every single teach stereotype I’ve seen, but I just imagined you’d have a mountain of papers to grade and lesson plans sitting on your kitchen table at home,” he said, turning his attention to the woman next to him. “Probably a bucket of highlights and red pens to correct tests as well.” Devon didn’t really understand why anyone would choose to become a teacher, spending the rest of their lives in classrooms after sitting through nearly 18 years of endless lessons in the first place. The profession just seemed like a nightmare, if he was being honest. But of course, he’d never say that out loud.

“Or did you leave them in your classroom today?” He teases.

Hazel hues expanded in delight at the sight of the spoon brought in front of them. Without hesitation, she happily obeyed. Sloane’s eyes closed as pure joy washed over her. She loved the nights she was able to visit Devon at his restaurant to help taste-test his latest food experiment. She never thought being neighbors with someone could have such great benefits as this. She shook her head in response. “Mmm, no. I think you put the perfect amount; it blends so well with all the other flavors. Ugh. Devon, will you just marry already?” she laughed.

          “𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 though? It’s hardly one of those dentist approved milkshakes on steroids,” Dillon commented, his brows furrowed significantly as they really didn’t seem to be stopping their little photoshoot any time soon. If only this were still the nineties. No one ever would have thought to stoop so low just to show off what they were eating. Nobody would have cared in the slightest. Except maybe the few odd Jamie Olivers of the world.  “Thought I’d picked a fool proof place for my afternoon cuppa joe but I guess I must’ve thoroughly miscalculated.”

“So like steak au poivre! That explains why it tastes quite like home. I am sure that whatever you end up calling it, your customers would love it. If it helps you in any way, I would definitely buy this dish.” It sounded like one of those things that a person would only say to support a friend but Eleanor genuinely meant it. Then again, she enjoyed all the food that Devon has come up with and that she has tasted so maybe she wasn’t the most reliable judge. “If you needed another idea for how you can serve steak in a different way, I suggest that you pair it with Béarnaise sauce. It is really good and not so difficult to make. All you need to make it are egg yolks, butter, vinegar, tarragon, shallots and black pepper.”

“Well if it makes the menu you’ll have to come back for dinner, on me of course,” Devon declared, always happy to have friends stop by for a bite to eat. He loved cooking, there was no doubt about that. But he particularly loved cooking for people that he loved. Friends, family, neighbours, teachers, colleagues - anyone that played a significant role in his life would forever and always have a seat at DOUGLAS. Eleanors suggestion, though welcomed, brought a laugh to his lips. “Béarnaise sauce always reminds me of Hollandaise. I get it’s sort of an elevated hollandaise, but I can’t look at either sauce without thinking of Eggs Benny.”

Owen grinned, paying close attention to the other man’s lips as he spoke. We can’t let it go to waste- The only moral thing to do would be to in fact finish off whatever is in that bottle. He typed down, laughing some as he flipped the phone around so that Devon could read it. If there was one thing that Owen loved, it was food. He was the kind of guy willing to try just about anything once so when asked to come and taste something for Devon, there was no way Owen could have passed it up. And with that passion for food, even though he himself wasn’t a very good cook, was more than willing to tell what he thought about it. 

He made a face of concentration at the next question. Oh, that’s a hard one. I feel like it would be good on steak but even better on lamb chops? Owen paused for a moment, rubbing his chin in thought some before adding to what he had written. The lamb chops would give it that extra little bit of piazza it would need and steak, I feel like when I eat steak I want some kind of savory sauce on it. If that makes sense. He shook his head with a grin, sliding his phone over to Devon. 

Devon’s eyes focused on the screen, reading his words and trying his best to see it from Owen’s point of view. The chef was rem lamb chop, all the way. But his General Manager had been on his case about putting out a solid, staple steak recipe that no other restaurant could match. He understood her point of view, but ultimately lamb chops were more fun. “Pizazz?” Devon laughed, turning his attention back to Owen. “Man, you’ve got to be the only person I know to have that word as part of your vocabulary. It fits - yeah, that’s definitely the word I’d use to describe what it needs, but not what I expected.”

Turning back to the stove, he flicked off the heat and poured the sauce into a holding container for the next day. It was getting late, and surely Owen was beginning to get tired of tasting the same sauce over and over again. Grabbing two plates by the oven, he set them on the counter between them. One held a decadent chocolate cake while the other bowl contained the leftover chicken special from earlier the evening. “I’ll let you know when we add the lamb chops to our menu. Bring a date, your family - whoever. My treat. But you gotta tell me if it’s got enough pizazz.”

A happy voicemail.

A drunk voicemail.

An drunk voicemail.

A drunk voicemail.

Olivia couldn’t help but smile at Devon pressing her for more feedback, and his passion for his job was infectious. “Definitely the latter. It’s enough that you know it’s there, but you can still taste the other flavours,” she expanded with a small, decisive nod. She faltered for a second as he asked if her dad would eat it because she hadn’t seen him since she moved to New York, before nodding. “Yeah, he would. He’s a big cognac fan’” she replied with a fond smile. Her foster father always had plenty of cognac in the house, and had done ever since she was younger. The next time she spoke to him she reminded herself to tell him about the dish Devon had made, knowing he’d try and make it himself at home.

He nodded once in acceptance of her words, glad that she’s been honest and given him enough to work with for the coming days. The dish was by no means done, but it was better than it was an hour ago. Devon flicked the knob and flame bolo the pan fizzled out. He could’ve spent all night in the kitchen, coming up with new dishes and re-working existing ones until the sun came up and his morning staff arrived. But Olivia’s presence was a reminder that there were things other than the kitchen to focus on. “Yeah, you’ll have to bring him around some time. Dinner on me, of course.”

Turning around, he fished out a plate of dessert from a nearby fridge; his secret stash for late night like this. Handing Olivia a fork, he hopped onto the counter and dug into the chocolate cake, spooning some into his mouth. “Thanks for stickin’ around. I didn’t realize it was so late.”

When Eleanor chose to have dinner at Douglas, she did not think that she would be staying there with its owner there an hour after it closed but there she was anyway, seated in the kitchen and having a conversation with Devon as he created another dish. She wondered if what he looked like then was how she looked while experimenting in the kitchen. Leaning forward now, she caught a whiff of the dish before taking the spoon in her mouth. “I can taste the cognac but it’s subtle so maybe add a bit more.”, she answered him once she finished chewing. “It is really good so far though! What is it again?”

“In the simplest of terms, it’s steak with a cognac sauce. I haven’t figured out a more appetizing way to word it for the menu, but that’ll come once I actually have a dish that people will want to buy,” he said over his shoulder, his attention turned back to the pan sitting on the stove. Sleep was something Devon managed to function without, or at least very few hours. When he wan’t across the street drinking with his staff or wasting away the hours in front of his PS4, you were almost guaranteed to find him in the kitchen of the closed restaurant. His GM hated it, but this was Devon’s happy place. And he was more than glad to open it up to others.

“I got tired of just serving up pan-seated steak with garlic butter.”

“I hope you don’t mean together, because those sound fucking disgusting,” Yaz scrunched up her nose, hating that she agreed with Devon, yet making no move to give that away. As someone who prided herself on her ability to throw a decent meal together merely by searching the kitchen cupboard, she could appreciate his desire to put something worthwhile on his menu. But, of course, that was yet another thing she would never tell Devon. “Okay, those are all fine, but they’re not… inspiring, you know? Pretty sure every bougie restaurant in the city sells caramelised onion tarts and goats cheese. The common man isn’t going to give you anything worthwhile over a five minute speed-interview.“

Despite herself, a small snort left her at Devon’s comment, “too cool to care?” She sipped on her wine, eyes still searching for Tabby for a moment before directing back to Devon, his words were too relatable. If neither were as bull-headed as they were, in some universe, they would probably get along. Possibly. “Pretty sure if hookin’ up was a band colour, that’d make this a whole different kind of party. Could be fun, though.”

Her eyes rolled at the smirk on his lips, the cocky self assurance he had, “gross. Don’t let me get in the way of love,” a grin slid across her features, eyes sparking with something close to delight, “you? Dancing? Having moves? I’d pay to see it.” As Devon flipped the question onto her Yaz faltered, face freezing as she realised she had no answer. “Beef Ragu,” she shot back, with one hundred percent conviction, completely making up her answer, and making a mental note to ask Tabby the moment she saw her next.

"Listen, it's better than dining at every 5-star restaurant in the city and rippin' off the best items on their menu. At least this way, I'm not at risk of getting in shit or losing hundreds of dollars," Devon countered, dark eyes challenging the woman seated across the table. He would never admit it out loud, but this was easily the most stimulating conversation he'd had all night. But then again, was he surprised? It was Yaz, after all. "It would be very fun. Pretty sure they'd have to re-brand and call it the Green Light Party, but there'd be way more people in here and far fewer suits and ties. Which, frankly, would do some people a favour. Take that guy," he nods in the direction of the dance floor. "He's dripping in sweat."

"Always the tone of surprised with you, huh Yaz?" He taunts, shaking his head in disbelief. "You can admit that I'm good at a few things - nobody's here to hear you. But lucky for you, I'm willing to prove you wrong." His words are lighthearted, but there is some truth to them. There weren't' many things Devon wouldn't do to prove Yaz wrong, and dancing with some nameless female was one of the easier things on the list.

"Beef Ragu," he repeats, lips pressing into a polite smile though his eyes giveaway the laugh that's threatening behind his lips. "Excellent hangover food. If you throw in a little cheese and slow cook the beef and you might have a half-decent dish on your hands. Honestly, my experience with beef rage is limited, but I'm sure whatever you make is delicious." Dev lifts his glass to his lips, sipping on the dark liquor as he contemplates his next words.