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Chapter 18 - The Queen of the Cafe
🕑 Added 2025-02-18 18:00:05 +0000 UTC“Attention!”
Julienne snapped up at the call. Every Chef stood at attention. Even Uncle Julienne. It didn’t matter that he was technically Executive Chef. It didn’t matter if something was burning. When Great Aunt Julienne entered, everyone stood up straight and waited.
The kitchen doors swung open and the Chefs broke into a chorus. “Chef Julienne,” they said at once.
“Aunt,” Uncle Julienne said.
“Great Aunt,” Julienne said.
“Hello, everyone!” Great Aunt Julienne chimed back. Her voice rang out with an approving sweetness, addressed to no one but felt personally by all. She had a special approachability to her. Most White Jackets were revered. Feared, even. But not Great Aunt Julienne. She must have been the most approachable White Jacket still working. Everyone seemed to think of her as a lively grandma living just down the street.
She glided across the kitchen to Julienne’s pod as she pulled her black hair into a tight bun, every step performed with the grace of a dancer. She held her cheeks in her hands as she admired Mindy’s cherry bruschetta.
“Oh, this looks delicious. The colors are gorgeous.” Great Aunt Julienne acted as she had spent forty years as a Chef and still never seen something as amazing as cheese spread over bread. “And the presentation of the prosciutto as a flower is fantastic. Mindy, did you do this?”
“Yes, Chef,” Mindy affirmed. Everything she did was gorgeous. The colors, blonde hair and blue eyes and the perfect shade of tan between. The presentation, never unkempt, never frazzled, her Chef jacket somehow fitting her better than anyone else’s. She looked at Great Aunt Julienne like a dog awaiting a treat.
“Hm, of course you did. Julienne and Yarrow, like most boys, don't think in flowers. They think the way to decorate a dish is to stick big, blocky towers into it. Reminds me of my mother.” Great Aunt Julienne grabbed Mindy’s forearm and leaned in to deliver the punchline. “All height, no curves.”
Mindy giggled while Great Aunt Julienne took a bite.
“Mmm!” Great Aunt Julienne moaned in approval before moving on to Yarrow’s dish, a square of feta cheese covered in flaked almonds with large chopped carrots protruding from it at regular intervals. She motioned to the towers with a laugh. “See? Big, block towers.”
She took a bite, her face never breaking from neutral consideration. “Did you prepare it with lemon?” she asked.
“No, Chef,” Yarrow responded. His nostrils widened and his lips narrowed. Julienne knew what kind of anguish was behind that expression.
“Hm.” Great Aunt Julienne pursed her lips, her eyebrows folding over with hope. “Orange, perhaps?”
“N—no, Chef.” Yarrow stared down at the ground.
Great Aunt Julienne caressed his upper arm, her expression melting with a grandmother’s sympathy. “Oh, I didn’t mean to pile on, my dear. It’s quite good. You’ve improved so much.”
“Thank you, Chef,” Yarrow half-said, half groaned. Then he shook his shoulders and straightened up, saying it again with more affirmation. “Thank you, Chef.”
“You really do a great job of bringing out flavors. You just need to learn to not bring out your own.”
“Yes, Chef. I wanted to prepare something that would not be ruined by citric flavors.”
“Good choice, then.” Great Aunt Julienne rubbed his arm once more before turning to Julienne.
“And what have you prepared for me?”
An all-too-familiar pit formed in Julienne’s stomach. He took a deep breath to dispel it. He was confident in his dish—and confident in his ability to feign confidence when not—but Great Aunt Julienne had a way of twisting up his stomach like no one else. He was desperate for her approval.
“Venison and its diet,” he said as he put the plate in front of Great Aunt Julienne. Two discs of mushrooms sat atop a chunk of red meat, little microgreens adorning the top. To the side of the meat, two coin-sized dashes of sauce decorated the plate, one a grainy blended green, the other a smooth purple syrup with berries sticking out. “A venison loin topped with matsutake mushrooms, served with huckleberry and bitter greens.”
“Clever,” Great Aunt Julienne said. “But do you know what the problem with clever is?”
“No, Chef,” Julienne responded. He could have guessed, but he wasn’t there to be right. He was there to learn.
“Two things. First, clever can raise expectations that aren’t met once the tongue meets the dish. Second, clever can entrench the cynic. They’ll say that our reputation has been earned by our cleverness, not our flavors. That it is clever that we rely upon. They’ll take the first bite wanting to hate it, forcing themselves to hate it just to prove themselves right.”
The three students all nodded along. “I understand, Chef,” Julienne said.
Great Aunt Julienne scoffed as she side-eyed the other two students. Then she took her fork to the plate. It screeched across the surface, making Julienne’s breath waver as he gasped for air. His heart seemed to grow too big for his chest and Great Aunt Julienne raised the fork to her mouth.
She chewed. Chewed. Swallowed. Considered. All the while, Julienne could feel the sweat forming on his hairline.
“Clever,” she lamented.
Julienne’s shoulders sank with his spirit.
“Mindy,” Great Aunt Julienne said, turning on the spot. “You’ve impressed me.”
Mindy struggled to keep her smile down to a professional level.
“Yarrow. You’ve improved. I think you’re on the cusp of culinary greatness.”
Yarrow raised his eyebrows, surprised by the praise.
“And Julienne.” She turned to him and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. “You are a natural Chef who is afraid of cooking naturally. I see all of your cleverness in the dish, but none of the charm. The end product comes across as manufactured, not personal. You start with perception. Start with flavor.”
“Yes, Chef.” Julienne took a deep breath through his nose to steady his voice. “Thank you, Chef.”
Great Aunt Julienne held her gaze on him, her hazel-green eyes casting a spell on him, making him hold his breath. “Walk with me,” she said as she turned to the door.
Yarrow raised his eyebrows, wondering if they should tag along. Julienne shook his head and focused on his breathing. Great Aunt Julienne led him out of Cafe Julienne, down its marble steps, and around to Labruscella’s botanical garden.
She led him beyond the multi-colored brushstrokes of flower beds, the bees gossiping as he walked past them. The pond disappeared behind a row of columnar cypress trees that wiggled and danced in the wind. A group of children played in a spot of emerald green lawn, Labruscan transplants that never felt more connected to home than when they were in the garden. Julienne smiled as they ran past. He remembered when he had first moved to Ambrosia City. Uncle Julienne had to make a rule—for as long as Julienne spent in the garden, he had to spend that long in the kitchen.
They arrived at Julienne’s favorite spot. A statue of Ambrosia rose and leaned out from the earth. It wasn’t like other statues—the ones built with a craftsman’s vanity. The stone was green and porous, letting things grow out of it. It started at her shoulders as if the rest of her had been buried underground. Ambrosia leaned forward onto one elbow, vines wrapped around her cupped palm. Rows of flowers grew across the ground, up her shoulders, and atop her head, giving her the appearance of long, flowing hair.
Every time Julienne looked upon the statue, he was humbled. This was the true representation of Ambrosia. She did not stand tall and lord over others with her marble shine. She was born of nature, and nature was born of her.
“I have a job for you,” Great Aunt Julienne said as she patted the frizz out of her tightly bunned hair.
“Sure.” Outside of the kitchen, the ‘yes, Chefs’ faded away. Out in nature, they were family, not master and apprentice. “What would you like us to make?”
Her lips twisted into a crooked, mischievous smile that men would fight wars for. “It’s not what I’d like you to make. It’s where I’d like you to go.”
She rocked back on her heels and licked her lips, relishing their anticipation. Julienne let her enjoy it for a moment before breaking the silence. “And where’s that?”
“A little place called…” She looked around and clicked her tongue. “Labrusca.”
Julienne blinked. He hadn’t been to Labrusca since he was eleven. Eight years. He wondered if it was still how he remembered it. Probably not. He could recount events, but not feelings. He remembered the way the mountains and valleys and trees looked, but he couldn’t remember the impact of beholding them. When he tried to, he could only think of the garden.
And then he remembered to breathe.
“I haven’t been to Labrusca since my naming.”
Great Aunt Julienne took a sharp breath and looked around. Once she was sure they were alone, she tilted her head at Julienne and peered through her eyebrows. “That wouldn’t be the case if we did things my way. But, your uncle, he’s always had an assignment for you, hasn’t he?”
Julienne smiled and looked up through the corners of his eyes. It was as insubordinate as he was willing to be.
“But now I’m the one with the assignment for you,” she continued. “And perhaps it’ll serve as a fun summer.”
Julienne’s smile disappeared. His heart sank. His stomach tensed. “A summer? A whole summer?”
Great Aunt Julienne nodded.
“But—but,” Julienne’s mouth hung open like a fish’s. His head swiveled back and forth, the sights of the garden only adding to his stress. He had been outside too long, he needed to spend his time in the kitchen. Uncle Julienne would be coming out to scold him any minute now. “I’ve just found my footing here. At the Cafe. I can’t—I need to keep improving.”
“You can improve in Labrusca,” she shrugged.
“Surely you can’t mean the whole summer,” Julienne protested. He could see all of his progress slipping away. Once he was out of Uncle Julienne’s routine, he’d have to prove himself all over again. A summer abroad would be at best a detour, at worst a waste of time.
“Most of it.” Great Aunt Julienne stooped down and caressed a flower. “Are you familiar with the Charmant truffle?”
And then a summer abroad no longer felt like it’d be a waste of time.
“Wait, seriously?”
“Seriously. I’m sending you to acquire it.”
Julienne laughed with disbelief. The Charmant truffle might have been the single rarest ingredient in the world. It was said that to hold it was to shake hands with Ambrosia herself. That was the potency of its essence.
Wonder had its moment to grip Julienne, but it was soon replaced by confusion. “Wait,” he said. “You want me to go truffle hunting? I’d be useless.”
Great Aunt Julienne smiled. “I want you to go truffle acquiring. We’ll leave the hunting to someone else, don’t worry.”
“I don’t understand. Why can’t we just buy the truffle?”
“Any truffle hunter capable of finding the Charmant truffle is bought well before they go searching. That’s why we need you to go.” Great Aunt Julienne kicked her foot forward and started walking along the path, colorful birds of green and blue chirping at her passing.
“It’s time for you to learn how to use your name,” she continued. “It has a weight beyond that which you feel on your shoulders. You will need to learn to wield it to get ahead. To keep us ahead.”
Julienne jumped as a frog hopped across the path. “And how will I be using it?”
“Well, we’ve made our intention to acquire the truffle quite clear. But your presence will show them how serious we are. It will act as a deterrent. Other establishments will cease to sponsor hunters. Perhaps some hunters will drop out of their own accord.”
“So my job is just to exist?”
“Have you ever found it easy to do so?” Great Aunt Julienne’s lips squeezed together into that mischievous smile. “And you won’t just exist. You’ll make your existence known. You’ll be in Toral most of the summer. If by the time you leave, someone didn’t know you were there, you’ve failed.”
Julienne laughed. “And then our hunter brings me the truffle and I come home?”
“Oh, you’ll be accompanying the hunter as well.”
“What? Why? I’ll just be slowing him down.”
“You’ll be protecting him.” Great Aunt Julienne raised her eyebrows a couple of times. “Truffle hunting is dangerous, dangerous business. But no one would dare risk harming a Julienne. It’ll keep them from killing our dear hunter.”
“Killing?”
“Chin up, Jules.” She slapped his back. “It’ll be an adventure.”
Julienne chewed on the air, his eyes unfocusing as he stared out at the trees. “My parents will be there.”
Great Aunt Julienne’s smile faded away. She understood the pain of separation. “It’ll be good to see them. I regret that I’ve allowed it to be so long.”
They turned around a bend in the path to see Cafe Julienne. He was happy for its disruption. Nature was too quiet. Too much space for troubled thoughts to breed.
“What about Yarrow and Mindy?” he asked.
“They’ll be going with you. It’ll be good for you three to have a relationship beyond the kitchen.”
Julienne breathed a sigh of relief. Alone in Labrusca, he didn’t know who he’d be. But with his team? He was still Julienne.
“I’ve already arranged your transport,” Great Aunt Julienne said. “You’ll find it quite agreeable. Oh, and it won’t just be you three. Another one of your classmates will be joining you.”
“Who?”
“He’s late,” Yarrow growled.
“We’re early,” Julienne corrected.
“We should’ve dragged him with us.”
“He works nights.”
“He should’ve taken the night off, then.”
“Hey, Yarrow?” Mindy groaned. “Can you chill with the grumpiness? The sun’s barely even up. I can’t deal with this.”
Yarrow stuck his lower jaw out in an exaggerated grin, speaking through closed teeth. “Here, Mindy. Better?”
Mindy rolled her eyes.
“Ignore him,” Julienne said. “You should’ve seen him last night. When the stewards came to collect our things, he wouldn’t give up his trunk.”
“I didn’t want them to steal anything,” Yarrow said as he crossed his arms.
Julienne and Mindy giggled.
“Yeah, laugh it up. I’m not used to being attended to.”
“Oh, come on now.” Julienne punched Yarrow on the arm and slunk out of the way of the counterattack. “Can you leave mister maximum acid in Ambrosia City? The Yarrow underneath is a pretty cool guy. I’d much rather have him in Labrusca.”
Yarrow puffed his cheeks and let the air out with a pop!
“Alright. Alright.” He raised his hands in the air. “This is me giving in. I’m in a good mood. Really. I’m excited to see Labrusca.”
“I’m too tired to be excited,” Mindy said. “Can we go wait in the carriage? Maybe I can fall asleep before I get sick from the motion.”
“Sure,” Julienne said. He pointed across the street. “It’s right there.”
Yarrow’s jaw dropped. “Shut up. I thought that was a small house!”
It may as well have been. The mastercraft was twenty feet long and nearly as tall, the wheels going up to Yarrow’s shoulders as he ran to admire it. The door looked like it had been pulled from a home, and the windows matched it, two great big shuttered openings on either side.
“It was a Glutton’s,” Julienne said. “After they died, his estate couldn’t find a buyer. Go figure. Who needs something this big? Eventually, it dropped to a price that we just couldn’t pass up.”
Yarrow dashed inside, the door swinging shut behind him. Julienne laughed and Mindy groaned. A couple of Labruscellan guards started to walk to assist them, but Julienne waved them off. He opened the door and held his hand out to help Mindy up the stairs.
“Thank you, Prince Julienne,” she cooed in her best impression of a snooty noble.
“Come on. You know I don’t like that.”
“Oh my,” she said, refusing to drop her act. “Well then perhaps you should stop acting so princely.”
Julienne let the door shut behind her, taking a moment alone outside the carriage to breathe in the morning air. With bolstered lungs and the confidence that he could withstand his friends, he entered.
The floor was lowest across the doorway, the front and back having been raised up two steps and featuring U-shaped cushioned seats. Yarrow pulled the leather back from one of the two glass-paned sunroofs, filling the back of the carriage with the dim light of the early morning.
“Unbelievable,” he gasped.
Mindy took to the other side of the carriage, slinking onto the cushions and laying flat. “Keep mine closed. I’m going to sleep.”
Julienne plopped down next to Yarrow.
“I can’t believe you live like this,” Yarrow said as he continued to gawk out of the sunroof.
Julienne winced, glad that Yarrow was too busy looking up to see his expression. He still hadn’t figured out how to react when Yarrow compared his poverty-stricken past to Julienne’s life of extravagance.
“Yeah, it’s a bit much, isn’t it?” Julienne asked, hoping to put himself on Yarrow’s side of the situation.
But Yarrow just looked down with a great big grin. “I love it.”
Julienne shrugged and conceded that he still didn’t know how to react. “Well, just wait until we get to Toral. We’re not staying in student dorms.”
Yarrow opened his mouth as wide as his smile would let him. “We’re not staying in the royal keep, are we?”
Julienne wiggled his eyebrows.
“Hohoho,” Yarrow laughed. “Wow. Living like a king.”
“I think it’ll suit you.”
“Me too.” Yarrow looked around, still unable to accept the size of the carriage. “How does this thing move, anyways? I mean, it’s gotta take ten horses.”
Mindy let out a little snort of a snore.
Julienne chuckled and lowered his voice. “Just two and the right grade of movemash. We’ll be super-speeding the whole way. Should just take two days.”
Yarrow finally settled in his seat, stretching his arms across the seatbacks and crossing his legs. “Man. I was worried when you first told me about this trip. But I’ve come around. Good mood Yarrow is here to stay. I won’t let anything ruin that.”
The carriage door swung open, the final member of their entourage stomping on board. The smell of sweat and beer hung on him like a perfume.
“What’s up, guys?!” Oliver yelled like a drunken boor. “Who’s ready to go to Labrusca?!”
