Yes Chef, No Chef - By Susan Willis Page 0,41
reason not to be electronic, she thought, because she’d really miss her monthly trips to the library with her reserved list of up and coming novels. She was nearly to the end of reading Alexander’s 44 Scotland Street series and couldn’t help being totally absorbed with the most amazing characters he wrote about, their lives and their dreams. Drifting off to sleep she wondered if she would ever be able to use her imagination to be creative and write a book, or she sighed, was she just too much of a damn control freak.
The noise in the factory was loud and she strained to listen to the team leader on the line who was explaining the process of depositing the lemon mousse and sauce into the pots. Her feet were cold in the factory-issue white wellington boots and although she’d remembered to wear a thick jumper, her shoulders and back were quivering with the cold five degree temperature that was of course necessary in the area.
She looked around the large production area with nine long automated lines of gleaming stainless steel pieces of equipment which when joined together made wonderful trifles and desserts. She spotted Harry with his usual black gelled hair hidden in the factory mop-cap and smiled - his face looked younger than ever. He was totally animated following the technical manager everywhere, watching the recipes being made in huge vats and then the automated transfer down to the line. Both the mousse and sauce looked lovely in the two separate layers and the operation on the line ran smooth and effortlessly. The cream at the end of the line was pumped into a huge whipping machine in its single state and when it had been whipped to the correct texture, which was stiff enough to hold a peak in the pot, it was transferred into an overhead vessel.
“Wow! How cool is that?” Harry grinned excitedly as he stood next to her watching the cream being deposited through a metal head with holes to make a decorative fluted pattern.
She smiled at him. “Well, how did you think they did it? Did you think the pattern was made by lots of ladies with piping bags?”
Throwing his head back Harry laughed raucously in response.
Katie turned to the production manager. “Can we take some of the samples back upstairs to the office?” she asked. “And then we can look at them in more detail when we go through the specification.”
He gladly agreed and when they sat down in the office with welcoming hot coffee and bacon rolls she gave Harry a copy of the check list that she intended to talk through. Harry listened intently while she checked each ingredient which went into the three recipes, which supplier the factory had bought them from, and stating the country of origin the suppliers were using. The planning orders for depots up and down the country were discussed and then she examined the factories daily record checks of temperature, storage and transport. The sample pots were examined for appearance and label fit, correct texture, smell and taste and when Katie couldn’t find any issues with the production run she agreed that the product could be released for dispatch to their supermarkets.
Harry talked non-stop on the train journey back to London while she told him exactly what they were responsible for and how important it was not to miss any mistakes. “The worst and most expensive thing that can happen is what we call a product re-call,” she told him. “And if the product actually reaches the supermarket shelves and something is wrong then every single pot has to be removed and sent back to Shrewsbury. It can cost mega bucks.”
Harry whistled through his teeth in amazement and then thanked her profusely for his trip, told her how great she’d been, and how first-hand experience beat reading books anytime. Good manners and well brought up Katie thought, and then horrified at how much like her mother she sounded she stifled a giggle.
After dropping Harry off at home in the station taxi, she wearily mounted the stairs to her new flat yawning with tiredness after the early five o’clock alarm. She decided a snooze on the bed was in order and then she’d take a trip to the supermarket and fill the freezer and fridge with food. She’d also treat herself to some fresh fruit and vegetables because her diet had suffered during the last week with all the upheaval and Lisa’s endless offerings of