Hot Potato

4. Quandary

After Marcy had left, I opened my computer, found the Bacchus Club site and explored it, excited to see their Chef position begins at $75,000 and rises to $125,000. But I quickly discovered that it's an internal promotion, requiring one to three year's experience in their kitchens. In their kitchens, not in others. My time at Cardinal's means nothing. Nor at the Four Seasons. Back to square one, Gigi.

I looked down the line to Sous Chef, $40,000 to $60,000, but even that needs at least a year of Bacchus experience. And there's Senior Sous Chef above that, $60,000 to $75,000, needing one to two years in their kitchen. Then, I realised that one year's the minimum for them all. Work a year at the bottom and hope for a promotion. Maybe apply for one. Maybe jump a level.

My search for the salary of their prep and line cooks brought nothing. But with their sous starting at $40,000, it has to be well below that. Half what I made at Cardinal's, or less. Hah! But a gazillion times more than I'm making now. Though still not enough to cover the mortgage.

To get away from my negativity, I clicked on MENUS and was taken to LOCATIONS, amazed to see seven in central Vancouver and another ten in the suburbs. And even more beyond. Opportunity for promotion – after a year's slog at the bottom.

Surely, I'll find a position before I would have to settle for doing that. But, what if I don't find one? Should I lower my goal? Forget about exec and look for another sous chef position? Has Marcy set my sights too high? My hopes?

As I scanned the locations, Broadway and Ash jumped out at me. Only two blocks away! Why have I never seen it? Very busy street, that's why. Always take the bike routes to avoid those.

Could walk over to look. But why? They've nothing for me but a huge demotion and salary cut. Hah! Salary cut. Can't get any lower than it is.

My curiosity led me to click on Broadway and Ash, then on FOOD, and scan through the menu. Same sustainable attitude as John has. And the creativity. And the presentation.

I examined a photo of the Butternut Squash Ravioli with Prawns and looked at the description, nodding as I read that it's one of Chef Freeny's signature dishes. So, he really is there.

Working for a chain after owning what was often called Canada's finest restaurant. Why? Is my goal of ownership unrealistic? A dream?

But Luminari failed after he left. Did he see that coming and pull the pin? Did he realise the risk of ownership is too much? Or maybe the stress? Was the failure because he was no longer there?

Then I thought about Harry, pioneer of Northwest cuisine with his Raincity Grill. Started the locally-sourced-menu movement and using only sustainable seafood. Owned three cutting-edge restaurants – all at the same time. Hyper-popular for years, then bam! Closed. Why?

Should I give up my goal of owning my own place? Avoid the risk, the stress, the insecurity?

I caught myself staring blankly, unseeingly at the computer screen as words flitted through my mind. Stability. Security. Comfort. Ease. These come with working for someone else. Is this what I want? Necessary for now to get established. But forever?

Look at John. Thirty-five years with his own place. Independent, stable, calm, comfortable. Prosperous.

But the restaurant is him; if he leaves, it's an empty shell. He can't sell it as a business – at least, not for much. The building, the equipment, but nothing beyond that. After pouring half a lifetime into it.

So, why do I want my own place? An ego trip? The independence? A license to cook the way I want? The freedom to create? I chuckled. All of them, but what to call it? Gianna's or Gigi's?

But, the risk? The insecurity? I caught myself going in circles, still staring at the computer screen.

Enough! I closed my MacBook and breathed a deep sigh. Time to plan dinner for Marcy.

I warmed as she came to mind. So gentle and loving. Enfolding. Knows how to satisfy me. Loves the way I do her. So different from Garth – most of the others before him. Why don't I give up on men? Forget about searching for one. Settle for a life with Marcy.

But Doctor Santiago said being bi isn't a choice; it's in my genes. I chuckled. I crave what's in their jeans. Strange, that. Marcy and I aren't much into penetration. Usually more than enough without that. But with men, I want to be stuffed. Part of being fucked by an aggressor, I suppose. Just wish I knew how to train them to be more gentle. More like Marcy.

I shook my head. But for dinner? What to prepare? The image of Freeny's prawns on ravioli came to mind, so I opened my computer, looked at the picture again and read the description: butternut squash and mascarpone ravioli, truffle butter, sautéed jumbo prawns, pine nuts and crispy sage. This'll be fun to replicate.

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Points to consider in this chapter:

Are Gigi's inner debates realistic?

Do you get a sense that she's creative?

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