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“A couple things.” I listed off the entrees and the starters, a fusion of European flavors, some Mediterranean tastes with a bit of French cooking.
“That sounds good,” Theo said. “I eat the same shit over and over. Will be nice to have something different.”
Axel still didn’t talk, more interested in the booze in his glass.
“Axel thinks I should open a restaurant, and I would love to have an honest opinion,” I said. “He says his feedback is truthful, but I still wonder if he’s a bit biased because I give him sex.”
“Good sex,” Axel added before he took another drink.
“Well, I’ll give you my ruthless and honest opinion,” Theo said. “Because I don’t give a damn about offending anyone. If your food tastes like shit, I’ll tell you.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Axel was still in a sour mood, but it started to lessen as time went on. The kitchen filled with the aromas of hot food, and my own stomach started to rumble. The hardest part about cooking was keeping everything hot and serving it all at once, but since Axel had a full chef’s kitchen, I was able to manage it. “Alright, let’s eat.” I plated the food and brought out everything at once, the salad, the soup, and the main entrée.
Axel sat across from me, while Theo sat beside him. For the first few minutes, we ate in silence, utensils scraping against plates occasionally. I didn’t ask Theo what he thought of the food, letting him give his own opinion when he was ready.
“I’m not a fan of lemon,” Theo said. “And it’s potent in this chicken.”
“Okay, I used too much lemon.” I made a note to myself.
“But damn, it’s good,” he said. “Nice texture. Cooked well but still juicy and tender. And what is in this?” He pointed to the orange sauce that went with it.
“Tarragon.”
“Good shit.” He continued to eat. “It’s all good.”
Axel grinned at me. “What did I tell you? This guy would not eat dog shit.”
“What?” Theo asked quizzically.
“Nothing,” Axel said quickly. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Who eats dog shit?” Theo asked.
“Dante,” Axel said quickly.
“What?” he asked with a confused expression.
“Yep,” Axel said before he took a drink. “Spread the word.”
I shook my head. “I said my father would eat my cooking and smile even if it were dog shit. That’s why I didn’t ask for his opinion.”
“I see,” Theo said with a grin.
We ate in comfortable silence, the three of us devouring everything on our plates and washing it down with the wine and scotch.
“Axel thinks we should lease a big restaurant, but I think we should start off small,” I said.
“Correction,” Axel said. “She wants a hole-in-the-wall.”
“Hole-in-the-wall places are always charming.” I drank my wine, the only person at the table to have any.
“I don’t think this food fits that aesthetic,” Theo said. “This is the kind of food a billionaire eats with one of his many mistresses, so rich that his wife can’t say anything. Otherwise, she’ll lose her allowance for shopping sprees and trips with the girls.”
Axel grinned because he was right. “Thank you.”
“A place like that is awfully ambitious.”
