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“Then it’s settled.”
I finally released my hold of the chef’s jacket and walked past Kat out of the closet to better inspect the bedroom. Past the bed was a large window and beside it a glass door that led to a small private balcony.
“It’s almost too good to be true,” I said softly, almost to myself.
“Well, the place does cater to the very elite and very, very rich,” Kat said. “You were lucky to get a scholarship to this place because the tuition alone is three times that of any other culinary institute. Add to that a dorm room like this... and you’re talking some pretty big bucks.”
I looked at her and smiled. “So, I guess your parents did pretty well for themselves.”
She let out a laugh. “Good enough.”
I opened the door to the balcony and stepped out. The fragrant air caressed my skin, adding to the lightheartedness that I felt. I was on a cloud, and I loved it.
As I turned to head back inside, I noticed a small metal plaque beside the door.
“The Stanfield Estate,” I read aloud. “Built in the early 1900s, the site was turned into a culinary school by Mr. Stanfield’s granddaughter in 1987.”
“Yeah,” Kat said. “I read somewhere that she was a real gourmet.”
“Speaking of which,” I said as I headed inside to get my suitcase. “I’m starving. How about you?”
“I’m with you. Let’s go check out the cafeteria.”
“I’ll just leave this in my room and I’m ready to go.”
I rolled my suitcase into my new room, smiling as I noted how the pink of my luggage matched that of the cushions on the bed.
Meeting Kat back in the living space, we then headed out.
The cafeteria was at the very back of the large castle like building. Three sets of double doors led to a cafeteria that looked a lot more like an old world dining hall than the typical school cafeteria.
Long heavy wood tables were scattered here and there instead of lined up as I’d usually seen in cafeterias. There were also a number of smaller round tables for smaller groups.
“Student chefs are the ones who cook, so this should be good,” Kat said.
We found a vacant table to the right of the large room and sat down. Four menus were stacked in the center of the table.
“We even get served at the tables?” I said, surprised.
“Yep,” Kat said. “The full treatment.”
A young woman quickly came to see us.
“Hello, students,” she said with a cheery smile. “I’m Amanda Gutfield and I am serving up Italian today. Do you want more time to look at the menu?”
Kat and I took a quick glimpse at the menu.
“I’ll try the calamari,” Kat said.
“And I’ll have the fettuccini with the King oyster mushrooms.”
“With garlic bread?” Amanda said.
“Sure,” I said then turned to Kat. “I’m not planning on kissing anyone today.”
Chuckling, Amanda left us, giving us a chance to take a good look around.
Most of the tables were full, with student from various stages in their studies. At one table, the students seemed to be picking apart every component of the sauce Amanda had made. They each dipped their pinky into the sauce, tasted it, and smacked their lips as they sought the spices she’d used.
