Isobel Asks The Internet

XXVII - The Salad Bar Concept

I betrayed my friend in order to stop her from ruining the launch of my salad bar concept! Do you think she'll find out? 

Hey everyone!

So, my friend Mallory is the part-time executive chef and head manager of a really fancy Italian restaurant in town called Indossavo i Tacchi, and we were having lunch there to discuss a pop-up collaboration we were planning to run at the grand re-opening of the hedge maze in a couple of weeks. Mallory used to work as a waitress, but she was moved into the kitchens after was caught drinking a glass of champagne that she was bringing to a customer. She worked as a line cook for a while, but her no-nonsense attitude and unconventional approach to kitchen safety meant that she was noticed by management and rose in the ranks. She now makes many major decisions about the direction of the restaurant.

The restaurant had become SO fancy and upscale since Mallory had taken over. We both ordered sandwiches. Suddenly, while we were talking about our pop-up event, Mallory sighed and said that work at the restaurant were going to be really busy for the next couple of weeks. I made sure to show her that I was listening by inclining my ear in her direction, and asked her what was going on. She told me that, in one week's time, the restaurant would be unveiling l the biggest and most forward thinking feature in it's history. I asked her what the feature was, and when I heard the words leave her mouth, I felt like I had been catapulted into an ocean of molten shock.

Mallory told me that the restaurant was going be opening a salad bar!

The muscles of my oesophagus contracted around the bite of the BLT (beef, lamb and turkey) that I had just swallowed, and I began to choke on the sulphurous fumes of misfortune (and the sandwich). Nigella and I had planned the launch our salad bar concept in strictest privacy, in order to ensure that rumours of it's existence weren't spread around town; Mallory couldn't have known. Even so, we were planning to premiere our salad bar concept on the same day as Mallory's launch! After doing extensive market research we had learned about how Beyoncé had successfully released one of her albums without promoting it at all, and we had thought this would be SUCH an appropriate model for us to adopt. Now if we went forward with that promotional scheme, Mallory's salad bar would siphon the momentum and attention that our salad bar concept truly deserved. 

This was an unmitigated natural disaster, and I KNEW that I would have to take appropriate action, not just for the sake of my salad bar concept, but also for Mallory's sake too.

Following the conclusion of our luncheon, I immediately sped off towards the supermarket. Nigella was working today, and every moment that she remained unaware of the emergent threat represented our salad bar concept sinking deeper and deeper into the viscous waters of obscurity. Nigella was always SO busy, so I went straight to her office where I found her watching Netflix. I immediately communicated the information that I had freshly received, and I could tell that it had ignited the fires of fury from within her bowels. She jumped to her feet, and tightened her grip on her custard doughnut freakshake with such intensity that it splattered a creamy spray of detritus across her angular granite workstation. 

Nigella SCREAMED, but I told her that we needed to be discrete (a herculean task when it comes to Nigella) due to the fact that most people at the supermarket didn't even know about our plan to launch the salad bar concept. Once she had calmed down and cleaned up the splatters of freakshake, we began to formulate the most sensible course of action; Mallory's salad bar needed to be removed from the equation, and we were the only ones who could be relied upon to do it.

The first step of our plan was for me to go to the university's chemical storage facility. Although it is a high security area, I had been given exclusive access privileges due to my excellent reputation in town. However, everything that is withdrawn from the facility needs to be signed out by the person who removed it. I used my access pass to make entry to the storage room, and begun to browse the collection on display. As soon as I saw the label for hydrofluoric acid, I KNEW that it would do the trick. I removed a few buckets from the shelf, and signed them out under Brindie's name before heaving them back to my car using a milkmaid's yoke. 

Nigella and I waited until approximately 2am before rendezvousing at the restaurant, as we needed to ensure that none of the staff would still be occupying the premises. We both wore black turtlenecks, and black beanie hats with our hair tucked underneath them so it would be IMPOSSIBLE to identify us on the security camera footage. I also decided to wear a matching PVC skirt with fishnet leg-warmers which had premiered with the Autumnwear range I had rolled out at the supermarket a couple of weeks back; I thought that this would be an excellent promotional opportunity. 

When Mallory had become the manager of the restaurant, she had given me a spare key to look after as she knew that I was someone she could trust. Even so, I knew that we would have to create the illusion that the site had been broken into, so I asked Nigella to hurl a boulder through the ornate, bay windows that stood next to the door (she didn't need much convincing). Once she had ruptured the glasswork, I slid my key into the lock and we made entry into the premises. We were delighted to see that after the boulder had whomped through the feeble window it had catapulted straight into the salad bar, littering glass throughout the prepared vegetables. Progress had been made, yet our work was not done; we needed to ensure that this lightly-refrigerated portent of ill-fate was rendered COMPLETELY unusable. 

Looking at the offending counter, I deduced that it would be best for us to pour the acid in a direct stream over the top of it, kind of like a corrosive waterfall. We decided to stand on chairs while we did this to mitigate the likelihood of potentially negative consequences such as serious flesh burns, death or getting acid on our heels. Grabbing the pails, we poured it slowly over the top, and watched it eat into the glass and metal of the salad bar, rendering it hopelessly defunct. We were then AGHAST to realise that the acid was seeping off of the deteriorating food counter, and onto the floor, pooling around the chair legs, and beginning to compromise their structural integrity. I knew that Nigella and I would have to act fast in order to not be consumed by the dangerous liquid.

I was concerned that we would not be able to escape without touching the acid, but then my mind harkened back to a series of intermediate parkour sessions that I had organised for pregnant women in the community last year; I knew that I would have the agility required to deliver us unto salvation. I clattered on to a nearby table, and worked my way around the dining area until I reached Nigella. Grabbing her hand, we worked our way towards a table nearby to the entrance of the restaurant, where the acid had not reached.

We were about to leave and enjoy what was left of a relaxing evening, but I suddenly realised that we needed to carry out a final finishing touch to distract the attention away from us in case an investigation was launched regarding the demise of the salad bar. I had obtained a bottle of the shade of nail polish that Brindie regularly (beef tartare) in order to divert suspicion away from Nigella and I. I took the brush and sprinkled the sanguineous fluid around the parts of the restaurant that weren't DISSOLVING to give the impression that Brindie had painted her nails at the scene of the crime. We then went home.

The next day, I was at work explaining our policy around lifetime bans to an elderly woman who had accidentally smashed a jar of sundried tomatoes (in olive oil) when I received a call from Mallory. I flicked the crone away and accepted her invitation to dialogue. Mallory was HYSTERICAL. She had been up until 3am the night before at a stand-up comedy show and was incredibly hungover, but she still couldn't stop laughing. I wasn't sure why she was calling me, but she also said that she wouldn't be going into work that day. This was SUCH a relief as it meant that no one would notice that the salad bar had been destroyed. I hung up on Mallory and bustled over to Nigella's office to give her the good news. 

Did I do the right thing? Do you think Mallory will be comforted by the soft-launch of my salad bar concept? Will Brindie get arrested?