Fed Up - By Jessica Conant-Park & Susan Conant Page 0,49
I know Marlee wouldn’t mind.” Robin put her napkin down and gestured to the depths of the restaurant. “Nelson, we’ll be back in a minute. Here’s my credit card. Will you get the check?”
“I’d love to see Alloy’s kitchen,” I said cheerfully. I went on to thank Robin for treating me to dinner. Thank God I hadn’t paid out of my own pocket for that terrible meal.
A restaurant kitchen was no novelty to me—I already knew the ins and outs of Simmer’s—and I was less than eager to examine the source of dishes that had made me gag, but I could hardly say so to Robin, who was Marlee’s friend and who was footing the bill. Still, a visit to Alloy’s kitchen would give me the chance to see for myself whether there were any signs of all those code violations I’d read about. There presumably wouldn’t be rodents or insects in sight, but I was so used to Josh’s exceptionally sterile kitchen that I should be able to detect iffy conditions in Marlee’s.
As it turned out, no experience was required to spot unhygienic areas in Alloy’s kitchen. Chicken pieces lay uncovered on a plastic cutting board, their juices running onto the counter and floor. The floors were wet and filthy, and the one drain I could see was covered in gray gunk. In contrast to the minimalist metallic dining area, the entire kitchen had an air of chaos. I did notice a spray sanitizer, but its nozzle hung over containers of chopped vegetables that sat on a long stainless counter. The soap dispenser over the sink was empty, its drip spout clogged. I shuddered to think of the bacteria that must already be growing in my poor gut.
“How was your meal?” Marlee rounded the corner from behind a high shelf that held teetering pots and pans. “Not too shabby, was it?” She smiled at what she assumed to be her outstanding culinary skills. She wiped her forehead with a dish towel and then slapped it onto the counter, where it landed in the chicken juice.
“Brilliant, again, Marlee,” Robin chirped.
“Thanks. Business has been up and down.” Marlee shrugged and examined her filthy hands with no visible alarm. “What’re you going to do, right? I just do the best I can and put out a great product. Anyone who wants to complain can get out.”
“Thanks so much, Marlee,” I said politely, resisting the impulse to douse her with a bottle of sanitizer. “And, Robin? I’ll give Adrianna your number so she can call you tomorrow and talk to you about the shower.” I couldn’t wait to escape. “I should get going,” I said. I gave Robin quick directions to my parents’ house and said good-bye.
As I turned to leave, I noticed a large corkboard by the doors to the dining room. Pinned to it were the usual permits and postings from the state, but what stuck out was the Boston Mystery Diner’s damning review of Alloy. The article was covered in black marker: a large X ran across the typeface, and “Eat Me!” and “Screw You!” were printed in angry letters at the top of the page.
Most noticeable, however, was a gleaming, stainless-steel knife that had been plunged into the center of the review.
FOURTEEN
I spent most of Friday afternoon and evening at my parents’ house, and I was back there again at nine on Saturday morning to finish the preparations for Adrianna’s shower. I’d already finished some of the work: the table linens had been washed and ironed, the white dishes set out, the flowers arranged in vases. The candles were ready to be lit. Fortunately, an eleven o’clock shower meant brunch: it was much easier for three amateurs to do brunch food than it would’ve been to cook and serve lunch or dinner. Dad was going to be kicked out of the house when the guests started to arrive, but for now he was busy arranging a fruit platter.
“Why did I get stuck with the fruit platter when there are four boxes of perfectly delicious pastries I could be setting out?” My dad eyed the white cardboard boxes tied with red and white string.
“Jack, you cannot be trusted with the pastries. That’s why you’re in charge of cantaloupes and kiwis.” My mother walked across the kitchen with a tray of bagels, cream cheese, lox, red onions, and capers. “I’ll try to save you some tiramisu if you promise to stay away until after the girls have gone. Chloe, watch your