There Is Air Here

Posted: August 16, 2012 in Uncategorized

Locked in a hot, white kitchen, wearing formerly white linens stained with colors and flavors and hot grease, a team of chefs work on the night’s menu. Assembling a menu of dishes that are well-liked and sell fast, one chef rubs his brow and sighs.

“Can’t we do something besides salad? We always do salad.” Silent stares met him, then the meeting continued as if he has never been rude enough to interrupt it. Still, he continued to reflect on his fate, making salads, preparing sauces, making salads, preparing sauces, cigarette break, making salads. The problem with being passionate about making food for people is that to make money doing it, you have to make what the lowest common denominator wants to eat. And they want to eat salads, apparently.

So here he was, enjoying a cigarette, the perfect way to lengthen time but never lengthen it just enough. The cool October wind bit just enough to force most people to put on their jackets, but after being cooped up in a hot, sweaty kitchen with a bunch of bastards, it felt good to feel cold. It was like a shower after a workout.

And then, just as the last bit of his cigarette burnt and hit the ground, he opened the door and went back to making salad.

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