The Language Castle

Scroll further - An intermediate piece

It all begins in New York. A man who has to deal with everyone, a good man in his own right but certainly not solid, overplays his hand and is fired. He is put on the doorstep of prosperity and participation. He is locked out. He is no longer part of any entourage and can no longer buy free beer for a smile. He draws long lines, he has costs. So he changes sides. The born guest goes into the kitchen. Of course, someone like that doesn't go into just any bar kitchen, but rather where it hurts and the difference between high and low life is as illustrative as a blockbuster. In front is a public living room of eccentric Wall Street luminaries, in the back the witch's kitchen dances on the volcano of grandiosity under warlike conditions. In between lies the pass. You are between heaven and hell.Where two worlds meet: there lies the pass in the Colombian snow of a devoted team that swears allegiance to its patron, serves him slavishly and enjoys gladiatorial pleasures in return.

Our man has to start all over again. In his new role he calls himself Nelson. His teacher appears as the revenge of the lower class and demands submission. A divine revelation once ripped Ellen out of the gutter and dispatched her almost without further ado to the kitchen of the great Woog-Lee Milestone. The dinosaur of his field once belonged to a cohort of kitchen revolutionaries who, with irreconcilable interventions, designated a reserve for molecular laboratory gastronomy. Now the veteran can only be explained historically. Woog-Lee benefits from his guests' desire to suspect a heroine at the stove. Their lascivious half-knowledge interprets the kitchen as a cage of predators with claws of all sizes. Woog-Lee plays the king of the beasts in this scenario.In reality, Ellen runs the shop. She stops Woog-Lee from dismantling his own trough.There are twenty people working, all of them experts, and each of them has an amazing story, and yet everything depends on one person. Ellen's hands reveal the origin of fruit and vegetables, the gender and condition of everyone who has come into contact with them. Ellen's hands see everything and everyone, from the germ, to the ripe fruit and her row of fields, the menstruating harvest worker, the stevedore freshly grabbing hold of the ejaculator, to the depressed cook, in a supervisory manner.

"It's powerful, immediately captivating!" M.

Ellen's indispensability is a closely guarded business secret. No one would find it plausible for the skill of a drug addict who cures herself daily with rigor and religion to have her name put on a waiting list and find the price level acceptable. Everywhere, grumpy, grey eminences inspect the front line, but the guest only sees the lion dummy in front of it. He pays for a successful production, not for the rehabilitation of a fallen woman.Ten years later, Nelson stands in his undershirt at the stove in the castle tavern. He smokes over 'his' Creuset pots - they are his, no one else is allowed to use them - sweat runs over the thunderhead like meltwater over a stone. Ash and sweat fuse with the things in the pots.It remains a mess that is transformed into a magical process in a miracle of suggestion. No guest ever sees the Kitchen and the uniformed hard work, the iron routine of the helpers, who are sometimes treated by Nelson like slaves and sometimes like demigods. He is the guarantor of peace in the kitchen, even in times of resentment. He cooks for his entourage. They come from Bosnia, Kosovo, Turkey and I don't know where else.