Harshest Critic

"You."

"'the hell are you talking to, Chef?" Yael, my sous-chef, asked as I glared through the cracked kitchen door into the dining area.

"My date. My blind date. They're at table 4, as agreed." I finished tearing off my white uniform, revealing a crisp suit.

Yael looked skeptically from my outfit to my face, "Don't know what surprises me more, that you invited a date to your own restaurant, or that you're going on a date at all." She peeked out. "What's wrong, Niles? They look cute."

"You don't know who that is, do you?"

"Neither should you, it's a blind date."

"That's Leif Leong, critic with The Times. Six months ago their review spat on everything this restaurant is." The bitterness flooded back, "I'll crush them. I'll- I'll break their heart!" I turned to Yael, her cheeks puffed with laughter. "Yael!"

"Sorry! Just- doesn't that require them falling for you first?"

...I hadn't thought that far. It's been a while, but the way to the heart is still through the stomach. I'll make them eat every vile word of that review. "Oysters. Serve us the oysters."

"Isn't that a little heavy-handed?"

"Whose kitchen is this?"

She rolled her eyes, "I'll get right on it."

For my part, I stalked out to table 4 and sat.

Leif looked up, "Oh, hello... are you Niles? Were you in the kitchen?" Their voice was smooth and low. Their face was framed by dark locks tucked into a braid that fell over one turtle-necked shoulder. Warm eyes scanned me curiously ― no recognition. Makes sense, I had seen them from afar, but they had never met me. Their lips quirked at my silence and my eyes followed the curve of them. I swallowed.

"I uh- yes, I was just ensuring we would get the oysters, they're quite erm good here..."

"I've never had them, last time I was served the bruschetta."

I remembered that. I'd pored over the options trying to pick the courses and finally fell on bright, warm flavors. Happy foods ― food I would make for myself. If I cook to my own taste, I'll meet my standards every time, or only have myself to blame.

"And?" I waited for the blow.

"I found it comforting."

I sputtered, "You called it classless! Without sophistication!" and then snapped my mouth shut, my face red. It was their turn to gape.

"You know who I-? Oh, dear... I see you're that Niles."

"..."

"Ahem. You misunderstood. My dinner here surprised me. It lacked the pretension of similar restaurants and instead felt home-cooked, organic. You have to admit that's not what's expected, even if it is enjoyable."

"...I see."

"This won't bring our night to an end?"

"No... I'd like to continue," I fiddled with my napkin.

"I'm glad," their smile is soft enough to tear into me, "Niles?"

"What is it?"

"Are we really on a date at your own restaurant?"

I pushed myself up stalking back into the kitchen.

"Over already?" asked Yael.

I huffed, "Switch the oysters for the bruschetta." And returned to our table.