#reylo iron chef au

[omegaling]

Allez Cuisine! ~Chapter Six

Allez Cuisine! Chapter Six: Smoke and Tomatoes

Rating: Mild M

Warnings: Mentioned sexual actives

Chapter Six: Smoke and Tomatoes (read it on AO3 here)

“Team Dameron, you have five minutes to get on set before we start rolling!”

Rey pounded on the door of the men’s bathroom again.  “Did you hear that, Finn?  We have to get out there, now!”

The lock on the door clacked open and Finn finally emerged, his dark skin ashen and blotchy.  “I don’t know if I can even look at food right now, much less cook anything.” he grumbled, his voice raw from spending the better part of the last hour bowed over a toilet bowl.

“You can, and you will,” Rey said firmly as she passed him a few water crackers and a bottle of water so he could cleanse his palate.  “Poe’s counting on us.  Besides, you’re acting like we’re being shipped off to the beaches of Normandy or something. Time limit aside, we’re not doing anything different today than we do every single night.”

“You say that now,” Finn huffed, popping all three crackers in his mouth and then downing half the bottle in a single go.  “This is going to be both the shortest and longest hour of our lives.”

“We’ll be fine, Finn,” Rey said with a tone of finality.  “Poe wouldn’t have accepted the challenge if he didn’t think we didn’t have a chance of winning.  We’re going to slap Kylo Ren so hard up the side of his arrogant head he’ll be walking backwards for a week.”

That was the biggest difference between them, Rey supposed.  Finn had the tendency to picture all the possible outcomes at once, often catastrophizing them and putting those at the forefront of his mind, whereas Rey focused on a single goal and set out to achieve it at any cost.  Besides, there was no going back at this point.  They were here, ready to defend Leia Organa’s reputation and to show that they weren’t about to let some crusty old man intimidate them, damn this wealth or his connections.  That was their goal; everything else was of non-consequence.  

Poe wasted no time in getting them prepared after he made the announcement.  The day after he told them they were going on the show, he wrote rough draft menus for each of the potential secret theme ingredients they could be given, then the three of them ruthlessly practiced each dish every night over the course of the next week leading up to the day of the competition.  Sometimes they stayed at BB8 until three or four in the morning before Poe was satisfied with their final products.

“When we’re out there, timing is everything.  Mere seconds can make all the difference in the world,” Poe said during one of their first practice sessions, making Rey make her sofrito base all over again because she waited too long to apply it to the next step of her dish she was in charge of.  At times Rey thought he was being just as dramatic as Finn was being now, but she kept her comments to herself and did as she was told.

However…

She would be a fool to think that they didn’t have their work cut out for them.  During the little free time she had to spare, Rey had looked up everything she could find online about Kylo Ren to get an idea of what they would be up against.  

His restaurant, Vader, was rated one of the top ten in New York City and one of the top fifty in the world for the past seven years.  At first, she wasn’t impressed.  Compared to BB8’s warm, inviting interior, Ren’s choice of interior decoration was stark and harsh to the point of being unwelcoming, all black and chrome and metal chairs and starched tablecloths.  It was all incredibly pretentious, but Rey couldn’t summon the disdain she knew she should have felt toward him.  Not after seeing photographs of his food, in any case.

Rey didn’t want to admit it out loud, but Ren definitely deserved every iota of praise his food and culinary style earned him.  While his dining area was cold and devoid of emotion, his food was vibrantly, almost violently colorful by comparison.  She was also beginning to understand why people kept using a specific set of adjectives to describe it.   Sexy, provocative, and erotic were just a few that particularly stood out in her mind, especially when she looked at the foods that inspired such lavish descriptions.  Juices seeped from cuts of beautifully marbled, perfectly seared wagyu rib eye steaks, the meat looking ready to melt under the touch of a fork.  Edges of freshly shucked oysters curled around plump pillows of glazed foie gras.  Ren’s salads reminded her of miniature gardens, and multi-colored pastas swam in thick, rich sauces.  Pink, butter-poached fish fillets lay atop beds of jewel-bright vegetables, and almost everything seemed to be garnished with glistening piles of caviar or a snow of shaved white truffles.  Ren’s desserts looked like they should be hanging in the National Gallery, not set out on a dining table, the sorbets and glazes on cakes and drizzles as bright as swatches of paint.  Rey couldn’t describe it, but there was definitely something tantalizing about his food and the way it was laid out on the plates, almost as if each dish promised more sordid affairs following their consumption.

Then, in what ended up being a major lapse of judgement, Rey searched for images of the man himself.

Kylo Ren looked exactly as he did from when she first saw him two years ago: the same intense gaze, the inky black hair that curled tantalizingly around his ears and at the nape of his neck, the wrong-but-oh-so-right proportions of his facial features.  She could still remember the way her heart lurched against her ribs when he turned those eyes on her, the way her body hummed for hours afterwards and could only be soothed by her fingers between her legs.  Afterwards she felt awash with shame that a man who was so clearly despised by her friends could invoke such a reaction from her.  Fortunately, she became so obsessed with her new line of work that she didn’t have a lot of time to spare thinking about him.

Unfortunately, looking at the pictures of him brought that deeply-buried memory back.  What was even worse was that the feelings it brought with them were even worse than before, because now she was envisioning those impossibly large, long-fingered hands wielding a chef’s knife to slice through plump, juicy tomatoes, laying strips of meat into a pan to be seared in melted butter, or fluffing emulsified foam into frothy perfection.  Then her treacherous mind started to wander into uncharted waters, leading her to wonder what else those hands were good at.  If they could turn food into fine art, then what could they do to someone lay stretched out on a bed beneath him, completely at their mercy…

The fantasies got so bad that Rey snapped the top of her laptop closed and immediately took a shower, trying to convince herself that it had nothing to do with the dampness in her underwear.  She was not a religious person, but she prayed all things holy that the feelings Ren invoked her would not interfere with her performance once they were out there.  If Poe lost because she was lusting after his rival she’d have to hang herself by her apron strings.  That is, if she didn’t outright die of embarassment first.

The floor manager ushered Rey and Finn into the studio and directed them to where they needed to stand and wait for the battle to commence.  Kitchen Stadium was like BB8’s kitchen on steroids, and she took that time before the filming started to reorient herself with its layout.  Rey’s station was situated next to Poe’s so she could assist him with the savory dishes while Finn focused on desserts in the back.  She visually mapped out where all the major kitchen equipments was in relation to where she would be working - the stove tops and ovens, the deep fryer, the location of every pot, pan, tool, and small appliance at their disposal - to alleviate any unnecessary scrambling and wasted time.  As soon as the floor manager left her and Finn along Rey slid her rolled tool canvas into a small cubby beneath her cutting board, where it would be both out of the way and easily accessible.  She wasn’t planning on using them, but even after dropping out of school two years ago Rey discovered that she wasn’t able to go anywhere without her tools in tow.  It felt too much like abandoning a group of old, loyal friends.  If nothing else, their presence would help keep her grounded if things started to get too heated.

“Well, well.  Finn Trooper.  What a surprise.”

Rey and Finn turned simultaneously toward the source of the accented voice.  A man and a woman who could only be Ren’s sous chefs were now standing on his side of the stadium.  For those first few second Rey’s attention was fully arrested by the woman, whose short, platinum-blonde hair, smokey eyes and towering height made Rey think of the Valkyrie warriors from Norse mythology.  The ginger-haired man standing beside her was the least intimidating member of the opposite team, but there was something about him that Rey immediately didn’t like.  While Kylo Ren reminded her of an apex predator, there was something about this man that made him seem much more sinister and dangerous, like a viper waiting in the grass for the perfect opportunity the strike.

“Hux,” Finn said in return, his voice as rigid as his posture had gone.

“I wondered what became of you after you abandoned your post at Finalizer.  And so soon after Snoke recommended you for a James Beard Foundation nomination?  Such ingratitude.  We were all certain you’d never set foot in a professional kitchen again,  Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised that someone like Dameron took you under his wing.”

Finn took a stomping step in the other man’s direction, but Rey put a hand on his chest to stop him.  The motion was not lost on Hux; his ice-cold eyes turned on Rey, cocking one ginger eyebrow in lazy interest.  “And you are…?”

“I’m Rey,” she said, holding his glare defiantly.

“And what are your credentials, Rey?” He said her name like he didn’t like the way it felt in his mouth.  “Schooling?  Previous employers and internships?  Awards and recognitions?”

“I’ve been with BB8 for the last two years, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“And before that?”

“I was an engineering major at NYU.”

Hux narrowed his eyes, and Rey felt her hackles rise in response.  “What’s your usual station?”

Finn placed a hand on Rey’s arm and hissed something about Hux goading her, but she lifted her chin up and said, “I’m Poe’s prep cook.”

The blonde woman’s eyebrows shot towards her hairline.  Hux openly sneered at them.  “Is that really the best Dameron could come up with?  A disgraced pastry chef and a girl who’s only a step up from a dish washer to help him?  What does his think he’s playing at?”

“He probably wants to prove that intimidation can only get you so far when you’re up against real talent,” Rey shot back, taking Finn firmly by the elbow and steering him back to their side.

“Asshole.  Who the hell does he think he is?” Rey hissed, pulling a honing steel from a wooden block set and running it across the edge of her knife.  She had honed her knife last night before she went to bed, and then again before they left for the studio that morning, but she was in desperate need to give her hands something to do before she rushed back to the other side of the kitchen and wrung that skinny creep’s neck.

“That would be Armitage Hux, owner and executive chef of Finalizer on Carnegie Hill,” Finn explained.  “He’s the new hot shit when it comes to molecular gastronomy in the U.S., right up there with Grant Achatz and Homaro Cantu.  He’s also the most pretentious bastard you’ll ever meet.  He actually requires diners to complete an application before he’ll approve their reservation because he doesn’t want to waste his food on people who won’t fully appreciate it.  And yet his wait list is still eighteen months out.  I just don’t get it.”

“Jesus.  No wonder why you got out of there.”

Finn flinched.  “It doesn’t…bother you knowing that I worked for Snoke before Poe picked me up?”

“Not unless you’re really a double agent who’s been biding your time for a chance to sabotage our boss.”

That got a laugh out of him.  “Nah.  I was young and overeager when I got out of the CIA and agreed to Snoke’s terms before I knew what was getting into.  It only took me about a month before I regretted it.  Hux is right about one thing; had it not been for Poe, the only restaurants I could hope to work at again were places like Applebee’s and TGI Friday’s, so I kind of owe my continuing career to him.  Also the fact he’s my boyfriend makes double-crossing him a little awkward.”

“Just a smidge,” Rey agreed, replacing the honing knife in the block.  “And her?”

“That’s Phasma.  Don’t ask me if she has any other names.  If she does, I’ve never heard it, and I think people are too afraid to ask her outright.  To my knowledge she’s only ever been a sous for other chefs, but she runs a kitchen with military precision.  There was a rumor flying around a few years ago that broke a supplyer’s arm who tried to cheat her out on a fish delivery.  I don’t think anyone’s confirmed it, but I wouldn’t doubt it for a second.  I’ve seen her cleave a side of beef with a single chop once, so I’d stay out of her way just as much as Ren and Hux.”

“Duly noted,” Rey said grimly, wondering for the first time what exactly Poe had gotten them all into.

“Quiet on the set!” the floor manager barked.  The lights immediately dimmed, throwing everything except the center aisle into darkness.  Stage fog billowed across the floor and the camera crew and boom operators moved into position.  Bright spotlights swiveled toward the door at the back of the set where Poe would make his entrance.  Mark Dacascos - better knows as the infamous Chairman - had already taken his place at the end of the aisle, and Rey caught sight of Alton Brown and Kevin Brauch moving in the dim light at the far ends of Kitchen Stadium.  The director called out a few orders, and the filming of the episode began.

It all felt a bit ridiculous, if Rey was going to be perfectly honest.  Without the music, editing and other post-production TV magic she felt like she was part of a dress rehearsal for a school play.  Poe was cued to make his entrance, and after a brief exchange of clever words, the host and the chef strode to the front of the set where the Altar of the Secret Ingredient awaited them.

As did Kylo Ren.

Rey didn’t even seen him come onto the set, but there he was all the same, his black hair and chef’s jacket creating a void of darkness beside the altar.  Then the studio lights were thrown on again, revealing Ren in all his dark, imposing glory.  Fuck, he was massive.  Cooking skills aside, it was little wonder why other chefs - or anyone else - was so afraid of him.

Poe took his place opposite Ren in front of the show’s trademark Altar of the Secret Ingredient.  The whole studio seemed to become instantly saturated with tension, giving Rey the foreboding mental image of sharks being drawn to blood in the water.  The two chef exchanged brief glances, but Poe only smirked at Ren’s glower.  Ren’s full mouth suddenly seemed much less appealing to Rey, given that it did nothing but sit in a hard, straight line and occasionally sneer at other people.

The Chairman delivered another set of lines, then revealed the secret ingredient with a flourish.

Shit, Rey thought as her stomach dropped.  They went with the aphrodisiacs.

Technically, the variation of food they got to work with would make the battle easier since they had more choices of ingredients to work with rather than having to stretch out only one over five courses.  The meal that Poe planned for this particular battle was extremely solid and would showcase his style, his skill, and his mastery of techniques.  However, no amount of confidence on their part could overshadow the glaring fact that this was still Ren’s specialty; the man made his whole career on creating food that made people moan and pant for more.  They were on his home field in more ways than one, and the odds of coming out of this on top were getting smaller all the time.  Next to her, Finn looked like he wanted to do nothing more than run back to the bathroom.  Rey took his hand and gave it a squeeze.  Come hell or high water, they were all in this together.

A smattering of banter was exchanged between Poe and Ren, swift and biting, aimed to agitate the other before the Chairman cut them off.  Rey felt a small swell of pride for Poe for not quailing under Ren’s withering gaze; her boss still looked as cool and collected as she’d even known him to be.

Finally, the Chairman looked directly into the camera lenses to deliver his infamous lines: “So now, America.  With an open heart, and an empty stomach, I say unto you in the words of my uncle: Allez cuisine!”

They were off like runners at the crack of a starting pistol.  Rey sprinted to the altar to take the avocados and chilis Poe handed off to her before going back for more of the secret ingredients.  Finn gathered vegetables, dairy, and other basic ingredients from the pantry and refrigerators, turning on stoves and burners as he went.

“Talk to me, Rey.  What’s the plan?” Poe called out as he arranged the first of his ingredients at his station.

“Prep the smoker for the tomatoes for the cocktail sauce,” Rey responded even as she loaded the smoking pan with a combination of oak chips and dried seaweed.  “Peel and boil the potatoes for the third course.  Don’t start on the hollandaise until the final fifteen.”

“Excellent.  How about you, Finn?”

“I’m on the flan and the cake.  After those are going I’ll start on the ice cream.”

“Beautiful, beautiful!” Poe said jovially.  “Alright, guys, let’s do this thing!  Give it everything you got!”

Rey lay out some gorgeous gold and red heirloom tomatoes on her cutting board and began to slice away at them as she waited for her wood chips to start smoking.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ren converging with his own sous chefs on his side of the stadium.  Ren was moving aggravatingly slow compared to their hustle, he casualness mocking the seriousness in which Poe took the challenge.   Good, she thought.  The more reasons she had to not be attracted to him, the better.

Hux said one more thing to Ren before breaking away to his station.  Rey had a good suspicion of what it was, because an instant later Ren’s head whipped around to look directly at her.

Rey averted her eyes quickly, hoping he didn’t see the way her skin flushed around her neck.  So what if she only had two years experience?  The rules didn’t stipulate that a sous chef needed so many years working in a professional kitchen to participate in the battle.  Poe knew she was good enough, and evidently that was good enough for the producers.  Besides, growing up in the foster system had pre-conditioned her to know how to deal with people’s low expectations and judgemental glares.  Just because Ren and his sous were hot-shot, world-class chefs wasn’t going to change that.

Better watch out, Kitchen Prince, Rey thought fiercely as she placed her tomatoes over the smouldering wood chips.   We’re going to knock that crown right off your head and watch it melt in the flames.

[spacehispanic]

Tagged by @galaxycunt

1. Favorite piece of clothing you own: a wool blue shirt jack I got from costco that has a generic indiginous blanket pattern on it

2. Favorite song: hard to pick one so going with You Are the Blood by Castanets

3. Favourite time of the year: fall, I hate heat and its cold enough to not be a problem

4. Comfort food: Carne con chili (not to be confused with chili con carne)

5. Do you collect something? | Right now I collect vinyls and CDs trying to move away from spotify

6. Favorite drink:

any tea really

7. Favorite fanfiction: the only one I really read was this one my friend sent me of reylo iron chef au which was awful but specific

8. Place you'd love to be right now? any place new really

9. Your fav film... of all time? Also really hard to pick one so going with Annihilation

Tagging @ostrichrevolution @streetworms2019 and any of my cool mutuals I dont talk to (you know who you are 😎)

[galacticidiots]

Fran, you need to start writing your own fic. Like a comedy chef and food critic AU or sumthin'. I cackled at your description of Adam as a bottle of Port no one could pronounce. I swear, we'll read the fic if you write one.

Lmao you’re talking about this post, yeah? It was a lot longer, but I decided to trim it and spare myself the embarassment.

I have stuff written, it’s just very intimidating to post because I care so deeply about this ship and I don’t want to get it wrong. I have no problem posting stuff about other ships, and I have, but Reylo.... *sweats*

A food critic AU is, ironically, one of my unfinished drafts 😂

[reylosource]

Hi! Happy New Year! I wonder if you know any modern AU Reylo fics that you could recommend, especially if any fics exist of Professor!Kylo and Student!Rey? Many thanks for your amazing and resourceful blog. I love it as much as I love Reylo 😍💖💕💖

 Happy New Year to you too =) Thanks for the kind words.

Modern AUs! Yes I do, and student/teacher dynamics are one of my favorites so here are a few I dug up for you. This is not exhaustive because I started doing it and then realized I can’t just dump 20 fics on you at once so…

Modern AUs

Swipe Right - yes it’s a tinder AU, it’s also a college!AU

Proclivity - this one kind of has a student/teacher vibe, Kylo is a professor and Rey is a student, but not in each others’ class - and he’s more her editor than anything. Good stuff.

Overnight Sensation - I SCREAMED ABOUT THIS ONE A FEW MONTHS AGO, BUT IT’S INCREDIBLE - KYLO REN AS AN OLYMPIC SWIMMER??!! I DIE.

Like a Technicolor Hue - this is basically an incredible taylor swift!Rey AU with a Kylo hard rocker style and they go on tour. It’s amazing. I recommend it (obviously..)

Her Becoming - um so this one is…beautiful, amazing, and intense and you should read it. basically fbi!rey and criminal!kylo go on an adventure.

English Girls, Approximately - godddddddd what a fic, singer/songwriter angsty Kylo Ren, grown up take-no-shits Rey. Bless.

Burning the Midnight Oil - asshole Kylo Ren and server!Rey in a restaurant AU

AQUARIUM - I recommended this on twitter like a month and a half ago as I binge read it and it just lkwejf,wnf - it’s Rey and Kylo doing a modern art piece where they live in the MET’s fishbowl exhibit every day. Strangers. Very good.

Allez Cuisine! - hrrrrng I don’t know what it is but I adore chef AUs, anyway Kylo is a famous chef who loses to Poe (with Rey on his team) in Iron Chef and then it just rolls from there.

Professor/Student

Professor Ren - arrogant professor kylo, shakespeare, and rey in a slow burn. can’t ask for much more (OTHER THAN FOR IT TO BE COMPLETED, I CRY)

Epithumia - visiting professor, sleepy rey, in the secret book room of the library doing research. no really.

Adjunct - visiting professor Kylo Ren, in the theater department. Rey is a set design student. =))

A Blessed Unrest - ART SCHOOOOOOOOL REYLO IS MY JAM 

Start Again - angsty. kylo ren comes back, was a professor.

[omegaling]

Allez Cuisine! ~Chapter Five

Allez Cuisine! Chapter Five: Carrillada de Cerdo

Rating: T and up

Warnings: Off-screen domestic violence

Chapter Five: Carrillada de Cerdo (read it on AO3 here)

If Rey could give her younger self one crucial piece of advice, it would be that not all change was bad.

It would be difficult to convince her past self of that.  During her time in the foster system, change was always closely accompanied by a sense of dread and anxiety.  It meant uncertain living conditions, schools with lessons plans that never coordinated with each other and often left her lagging behind in classes and struggling to catch up, and packs of students only too eager to tear the new kid limb from limb as soon as they set foot on campus.  She never viewed her leaving for college so much as a change as following a carefully laid plan that she never intended to deviate from.  But deviate she did, almost the instant she started working for Poe at BB8.

Miguel was a thorough teacher and Rey continued to prove to be a competent student.  She quickly learned that being a prep cook involved a lot more than chopping vegetables and seasoning cuts of meat.  She would have to be in charge of making sure all the preparations were done for opening the restaurant each day, including taking deliveries from Poe’s suppliers and making sure everything was in good quality and accounted for.  At the end of the she had to make sure all the stations were cleaned, orderly, and ready for the next day.  Poe required her, as he did his entire staff, to memorize the health and safety codes cover to cover, regardless that not all of them would apply directly to her.  She was in charge of preparing all the stocks and sauces, and was expected to constantly report to their Poe or his sous chef when supplies were getting low so they could be put on the next order.  She needed to learn each of Poe’s recipes by heart and how to correctly portion each ingredient to be ready at a moment’s notice when the line cooks needed them.  She needed to know where everything and everyone was at all times and was expected to make sure stations were cleaned almost as quickly as they were made messy.  Consistency was more than key, it was essential: every portion size, every dry ingredient measurement, every thickness of protien that came across her station had to be exactly the same or it could throw off the entire meal when it was time to bring it all together.

Five days a week, Rey made the journey to BB8 to start her opening ritual - taking stock of everything in the refrigerators, freezers, and pantries, checking off all the supplies coming in to make sure it matched their order, reviewing that night’s specials, then prepping all food items she could before the restaurant opened for the day - then trekked back the opposite direction to school for her classes that day.  After her last class finished, Rey returned to her apartment to put on her uniform - a white, double-breasted jacket trimmed with orange and black pants -  and returned to the restaurant to dive into the dinner rush.  On Saturday she spent nearly all day at the restaurant, arriving at ten and rarely being able to leave until well after one in the morning.  Sundays were typically her day off to catch up on any homework and studying that she couldn’t get done between classes during the week unless she was needed to come in to help cover a shift.

It was hard.  In fact, Rey was certain that she never worked harder in her life than when she was in Poe’s kitchen.  It was everything Poe warned her it would be.  The days were long, she was sometimes on her feet for fourteen hours at a time, and her starting pay wasn’t much more than what she was making at her old retail job.  The kitchen was always ten degrees hotter than any other part of the restaurant, the air was stuffy and constantly filled with the banging of pots and pans and the rest of the staff yelling orders and requests to one another, all the while remaining balanced on the precipice between perfection and disaster.  But Rey did more than endure the pressure: she thrived off it.  By the time Miguel was ready to go back to California, she was more than ready to hold down her station on her own.  By the time her fall semester finals were over, Rey was an essential part of BB8’s team and was well on her way to becoming integrated into the Village’s culinary scene.  For the first time in her life, she felt like she was somewhere that accepted her, somewhere she belonged.

Maybe that was why she felt so uninspired as she stared blankly at NYU’s spring semester course catalogue at the end of December.  She was supposed to be enrolling in her next set of classes that would wrap up her junior year, but the ones she was scheduled to take which focused on things like machine design and fluid mechanics did nothing to spark her interest.

If she was going to be honest with herself, she was far more interested in the iberian pork cheeks that were currently marinating in a paste of garlic, thyme, honey, and parsley in their refrigerator.  Poe’s carrillada de cerdo - braised pork cheek with port wine and honey - was Rey’s favorite dish at BB8, and Poe had gifted her with a few pounds of the prized meat for Christmas (at roughly $60 a pound, it was arguably the most expensive present she ever received).  Once the cheeks were done marinating they would get a quick sear.  Onions, carrots, red peppers, and shallots would be sauteed in a dutch oven after that, then the cheeks and some port wine would be added and reduced until it made a rich, decadent sauce.  Just thinking about it made her mouth water.

But that was the answer to her dilemma, wasn't it?  It was something she’d known for months, but had been reluctant to admit it until now; her heart just wasn’t where it had beenwhen she started college.  Tinkering with a finicky engine no longer held the same appeal as slicing into a loin of ruby-red tuna did, or sauteing tiny, transparent angulas with garlic and olive oil to make one of BB8’s most-ordered tapas (which she was a pro at preparing, if she must say so herself, and always felt a swell of pride when she heard customers gushing about it from the dining areas).  Sure, she put in the same level of work and commitment into last semester’s course load as she did in the past, but it had felt more like a chore that she had to slog before she could get back to doing something she enjoyed.  The thought of having to pretend she was doing something that interested her for another three semesters, plus the inevitability to having to dedicate a huge amount of time and energy to a senior project, suddenly felt very bleak and daunting.

Her mind made up, Rey opened her e-mail server and wrote a message to her supervisor, stating she was taking a semester off for “personal reasons” and that she was currently planning on returning to the program the following fall semester.  She wasn’t necessarily losing anything; her scholarship allowed her to defer a semester any time before her senior year, and since she no longer lived in campus housing it only really covered her tuition and books.  

A day later, her supervisor wrote back saying that they understood, and looked forward to seeing her return to class.

A year and a half passed.  Rey never returned to NYU’s School of Engineering, nor did she ever regret it.

“Rey, would you be able to hang around for a little while after everyone else goes home?”

Rey looked up from where she was sharpening her beautiful eight-inch Wusthof chef’s knife, a collective gift for her twenty-first birthday from BB8’s staff (which was the last thing she clearly remembered before they all got roaring drunk).  “Of course.  What’s up?”

“It’s not a big deal.  Just something I don’t necessarily want to bring up in front of the others before I discuss it with you and Finn first.”

Rey nodded, deciding to keep any further questions or comments to herself.  Had Poe not mentioned Finn, Rey would have been worried.  Her boss always adhered to the belief that anything that happened in the kitchen, both the good and the bad, was the business of the whole kitchen staff.  The only time he ever spoke to anyone in private was when he needed to reprimand them for something or, in a few woeful cases, fire them.  Since it did not look like that was going to be either case for her, the only thing she could do was wait.

Rey’s stomach suddenly did an uncomfortable roll.  After so many months of not-so-subtle flirting with each other, Finn and Poe at last made it known to her that they were dating...though they really didn’t have a choice, considering she walked in on them in the living room when she got home early one night.  After the initial shock wore off, she was more than overjoyed for them.  Poe was now more than her boss; over the last two years he became one of her best friends, and the three of them were veritable peas in a pod.  But…

But what if what Poe needed to talk to her about was for something other than work?  What if...he and Finn needed to tell her that they wanted to move in together?  Of course she wouldn’t argue, and she knew they would all remain good friends and exceptional co-workers no matter what their living conditions were, but she wasn’t too keen on having anything change, especially now that everything in her life was pretty much perfect.  She was entitled to at least one selfish thought every now and then, right?  Rey snuck looks at Finn any chance she got during their closing routines.  She had learned to read him like a book over the last few years, but tonight his expression gave away nothing.  If there was something he and Poe needed to talk about to her, then it would have been evident in the way his eyes would dart away from hers, or from the sweat beaded on his upper lip, but tonight she could detect none of that.  She felt her anxiety abate a little, but not by much.

It was a Tuesday night, and therefore the entire restaurant was relatively slow.  The last customer came in a full forty minutes before the kitchen closed, giving everyone the rare luxury of cleaning up early so they could clock out at a reasonable hour.  Rey killed the rest of her time by meticulously mopping the kitchen floors and hoping her nervousness wasn’t too obvious.  The rest of the staff trickled out over the course of the next hour after the doors were locked until finally only Rey, Finn and Poe were left.  Poe motioned for them to join him at the bar. Rey and Finn slid onto the tall chairs as Poe deftly uncapped three Alhambra beers and passed them around.  Finn’s expression still betrayed nothing.  If nothing else, she got the sense that he was just as puzzled as she was over this private meeting.

Poe took a long draught of his beer and said without any preamble, “I agreed to be a challenger on Iron Chef America .”

Of all the things Poe could have told them, that was certainly the last thing Rey expected.  She had heard of the show and knew its basic premise, but her workaholic lifestyle didn’t allow much time for watching television shows.  Over the last two years Rey got some true first hand experience at what being a celebrity chef and having a top-rated restaurant really entailed.  There was always one kind of writer or another coming in to review BB8 for an article, a column, or a blog post.  Camera crews from both local and national networks were not an uncommon sight either to do a segment that was usually on the best places to eat in the City.  The writers Rey could handle, but she didn’t harbor a lot of love for the camera crews, since it meant a lot of cords to step over and too-bright lights shining in her eyes while she was trying to get her work done.  She knew that stations like the Food Network, the Travel Channel and Destination America often approached Poe to proposition to host a new show being pitched, or to ask him to be a guest judge on a competition show like Top Chef or Chopped .  So far, he declined every one.  “I belong behind the stove, not in front of a camera,” Rey once overheard him say to a journalist who approached him on the subject.

Finn evidently wasn’t expecting this type of announcement either.  He blinked, then saluted Poe with his beer.  “Congratulations, although we already know you’re going to flatten whoever you go up against.”

But Poe wasn’t done.  “I’m going to challenge Kylo Ren, and I want the two of you to be my sous chefs when I do it.”

This time, Finn’s reaction was much more violent; he did a spit-take with his beer, spraying foamy droplets across the bartop.  Rey thumped him on the back until the coughing fit subsided.

“Are you mad?” Finn croaked.  “Ren’s never lost an Iron Chef battle, Poe, never!  He will chew you up and spit you out and enjoy every moment of it!”

“Good thing I have the advantage in that he doesn’t scare me like he does the other challengers.  So I think that levels the playing field a little bit, don’t you?”

“He doesn’t exactly strike me as having a personality for television,” Rey said as she mopped up the beer spittle with a towel.

“It’s already quite an assumption that he has a decent personality suitable for anything ,” Finn grumbled.

“Ren’s at the forefront of modern cuisine, so of course old man Snoke wants to make sure that his presence and influence is well known in any and all entertainment and media circles he can get his expensive Italian shoes in.  The trouble is that because of said personality Finn already referenced, Snoke’s options of where to put Ren without suffering major collateral damage is limited.  He’s about as far from a family-friendly host as one can get - and I’m not talking about in the oddly charming sort of way Anthony Bourdain or Simon Cowell are - and he’s way too much of an asshole to be a judge or a coach on any competition show.   Iron Chef America was the most logical choice because it lets him do what he does best - show off, then grind any competitors down in the dirt.  And the viewers love it because the chefs who think they have what it takes to take him on always, always choke on camera.  One challenging chef got so nervous he passed out in the middle of the battle.  Ren refused to let the clock be stopped.  He said that real chefs should be able to work through anything, and anyone who can’t take the pressure has no place in a kitchen.”

“Sounds like a real prince,” Rey said, wrinkling her nose.

“So why now?” Finn asked.  “They’ve been after you to be a challenger for the last four years and you always turned them down.  What’s so different than before?”

“Because I’ll have you two on my side” Poe said with the utmost confidence.  “I’ve already been sent the options for what the theme ingredient may be.  Any one of them can have multiple dessert options, I’ll have you to completely blow the judges away with something fantastic.  And don’t give me a single word of doubt; you know it, Rey knows it, and I know that you’ll be phenomenal.  And I’m not just saying that because we’re sleeping together.”

Finn flushed, but his apprehension was immediately replaced with beaming pride.

“And Rey,” Poe continued, looking at her, “I need you there because you’re my most adaptable cook.  We only have a hour to create five dishes from scratch with no set menu, and I know I can trust you to adjust flavors and make judgement calls without having to run everything by me first.  And,” he put extra emphasis on the word, “I need you there because if there’s one thing I know about you other than you being an exceptional worker and a lightening-fast learner, it’s that you don’t take shit from anyone.  The line guys are all amazing cooks, but Kylo Ren scares the hell out of them, and he’ll take full advantage of that.  You can be damn sure he'll try to intimidate you too, but when he sees you won’t bend under his normal tricks it’ll throw him through a loop and give us an even larger edge over him.”

“But still... why now?” Finn asked again.  “I’m sorry, babe, but I’ve got to calling bullshit on this.  As flattered we are that you think we’re the aces up your sleeves you need to win, it still doesn’t make sense that you chose to wait four years other than claiming you wanted to wait to have the perfect team before agreeing to go on.”

Poe huffed a sigh, running a hand through his thick hair.  “I’m not lying when I say I think the three of us can bring Ren down, but you’re right: that is only part of the reason why I want to go on now.  The other half is because I think Snoke is attacking Leia’s credibility.”

Finn looked unimpressed.  “And that’s new how?  I mean, I know you like Leia and I mean no disrespect towards her, but those two have been at each other’s throats for what, thirty years?”

“True, but this time he may have something that could actually hurt her.”  Poe reached under the bar and pulled out the latest issue of Food and Wine magazine.  It was already open to a page in the middle of the issue, the headline across the top reading “Boiling Over: Leia Organa’s Newest Prodigy in Hot Water.”

“Remember that article she wrote last quarter about that new Mediterranean fusion place off Sunset Park?  Turns out the executive chef has managed to land himself in a heap of trouble.  Last month his girlfriend woke up from a two-week coma that was supposedly caused by a fall down a flight of stairs.  When she was coherent enough to talk, she accused him of actually throwing her down them because he thought he saw her talking to another guy.  To make matters worse, he then tried to strangle her in her hospital bed before security was able to pull him off.”

Rey felt a surge of queasiness that rocked her insides like a ship on a stormy sea, but she forced herself to stamp the feeling down.  “But none of that is Leia’s fault.  Why would her name get dragged through the mud for what some lowlife does?”

“The problem is that Leia’s more than a food critic and a restaurant reviewer,” Poe explained.  “People have always held her in high esteem to be an excellent judge of character.  Editors-in-chief, network executives, talent agents… If they ever need an honest opinion on someone, she’s the first one they go to because she’s never been wrong before.”

“So you’re hoping to save her from her one bad apple?”

“It’s not the apple I’m worried about,” Poe said, tapping the article again.  “I did a little research on our friend who wrote this.  Turns out the only prior work he’s done for Food and Wine are those little footnote articles you usually see sandwiched between two larger advertisements.  Then it turns out he resigned from Food and Wine almost immediately after this issue went to the press to pick up a shiney new position at First Order.”

“Snoke’s magazine.  Surprise, surprise,” Finn said drily.

“So now Snoke’s got himself this eager new journalist whose claim to fame is dragging down one of the hottest new chefs who was once in Leia’s grace.  I’ll give you three guesses what Snoke will assign him to do from here on out.”

“Dig up dirt on all the other chefs Leia’s praised who are still in the business,” Rey said.

“Which includes you,” Finn concluded.

“It's all downhill from there.  Locals and tourists alike will see the negative stories being printed about these once highly regarded restaurants and stop going.  Sales drop, business becomes dangerously slow, the bills start to pile up.  And then here comes Mr. Snoke with a proposition to the execs to help put them back on the map, which I bet you anything comes accompanied with a bribe and reasonable sum of the restaurant’s returning income in his bank account.”

“Then that’s your plan,” Rey said.  “You beat down his star chef in front of the world, which will solidify your place in the industry, uphold Leia’s credibility and help protect the chefs she’s stood up for in the past.”

“That’s the jist of it,” Poe said, his mouth hidden behind his laced fingers.  “It might not even work.  It may end bad for us, even if we win.   Really bad.  Snoke can’t stand to be humiliated at his own game, and Ren’s so fucking volatile he’s essentially a ticking time bomb.  But if this is Snoke’s master plan to bring down Leia and all her endorsed restaurants to heel, then I want to be in a position where the first move is ours.  It’s ridiculous, and maybe it won’t amount to a damn thing, but if we’re going to be hit him it needs to be where it hurts the most: his pride.  If nothing else, it will buy Leia some time to recover from this whole scandal and come back at him even harder.”

He sighed again, and he suddenly looked much older.  “I know I’m asking a lot of you guys.  I probably should have told you all this before asking you to be a part of it.  At this point, none of that may not even be true and I’m just being paranoid.  Of course I’d be eternally grateful if you’re in, but if you don’t want to be a part of this, I completely understand.”

“Are you kidding?” Finn said, jumping up from his chair.  “After everything you told us, of course I’m going to help!  Snoke’s nothing but a bully, and he only keeps getting away with it because no one calls him out on it.  If we can make some kind of difference in this crooked game he’s trying to play I say let’s go for it!”

“You’re damn right I’m going to help!” Rey said, thumping her beer bottle on the bartop.  “I just started here and I’m not letting that creep take this away from me or anyone else.  Let’s do this!”

Poe grinned from ear to ear, holding up his beer.  “I knew I could count on you.   Allez cuisine!”

“Allez cuisine!” Finn and Rey echoed, clicking the necks of their beers with Poe’s and thus sealing their fates.

[omegaling]

Allez Cuisine! ~Chapter Four

Allez Cuisine! Chapter Four: Caipirinha

Rating: T and up

Warnings: Underage drinking (but barely: she’s like, 20 years and 2 months old), some foul language

Chapter Four: Caipirinha (Read it on AO3 here)

The New York city night life was only just beginning to gear up as Rey walked down the now-familiar streets of Greenwich Village, following her phone’s GPS to Poe’s restaurant.  It was a gorgeous July night, and the atmosphere was already beginning to buzz with its usual Saturday night energy.  Rey had been living in New York for two years now, and the Village was still her favorite place to be, bar none.  Even though it would still be the better part of a year before she could even set foot in any of the Village’s innumerable bars and nightclubs, she still got a buzz just from being a proper wallflower, living vicariously through the people who had access to all the places she did not.   Neon signs painted the sidewalks with garish colors, making the dresses of a group of girls out on a bachelorette party glow like a flock of exotic tropical birds, their twittering laughter momentarily drowning out all other noise in the immediate area.  Brightly-lit windows of trendy storefronts put their wares on display to the world, showcasing custom clothing and purses from local designers, stacks of used books ideal for summer reading, and baskets of handmade soaps and bath bombs whose overpowering scents wafted into the streets every time the shop door was opened.  Somewhere in the outdoor seating area of a bar, a glass broke, followed by the cheering and whooping of a group of frat boys as though they had never seen anything more amazing in their lives. Long lines of taxis ambled by, horns constantly blaring as they maneuvered around other cars and wayward pedestrians.  Everything was so vibrant, so alive, and Rey loved every minute of it.

BB8 was located near the corner of a busy intersection, its front patio enclosed by palm fronds and ferns and shadowed beneath a long red awning.  Since the restaurant closed at 11:00 and it was already 11:34 according to her phone, all of the tables and chairs for outside seating had already been put away, the square of concrete in front of the ground-to-roof windows swept clean.  Except for the faint orange glow beyond the dark glass, the restaurant looked deserted.  Rey felt a small pang of anxiety; she was certain that Poe told her to plan on being at the restaurant around 11:30.   She opened her messenger app and sent a quick “I’m here out in front” to Finn before checking Google Maps again.  Sure enough the little blue arrow was pointing exactly at the address Poe gave her earlier that day.  Did she get the time wrong?  Or did they change the location without letting her know?  A dozen different “what if’s” flew threw Rey’s mind, each bringing with it more disappointment than the last.  She had really been looking forward to tonight, too…

Suddenly a dark shape moved behind the glass door.  She heard the deadbolt clack open and the door was swung open wide to reveal a broadly grinning Poe on the other side.

“Hey, you made it!  Sorry that took so long, Finn’s fighting with the mixer again and couldn’t get to his phone right away.  Come in, come in!” he said, stepping aside and gesturing enthusiastically.

BB8 was the most beautiful restaurant Rey had ever seen.  Poe’s restaurant was divided into two rooms - the bar and lounge area, and then the main dining room - elegantly decorated in the reminiscence of colonial Spain; terra cotta tile floors, thick, dark wooden beams crossing the low ceiling, wrought-iron art hanging on the walls and separating the booths.  The light from the iron chandeliers and wall sconces glowed warmly off the cream-colored adobe walls in the dining room, and a fake fire flickered from the depths of a decorative fireplace made of flat brown stones in the far corner, giving the whole space a cozy, homely feeling.  The bar and lounge, on the other hand, was painted dark red and furnished with dark wood and shaded lamps, making the space feel much more intimate.  Rey could not deny that she was slightly startled to see a giant replica of Pablo Picasso’s  Bombardement de Guernica taking up the entire inner wall of the lounge, the abstract, pained faces a stark contrast to the otherwise inviting room.

(Rey later learned that Poe’s father’s family had fled from Spain during the Civil War, having not lived very far from Guernica when the bombing took place.  They did not have the resources to make it to the United States as they hoped, and ended up settling in Guatemala instead.  The rest, as they say, is history.  After that, she had a much deeper respect for Poe’s choice in decor.)

Only a few patrons continued to linger in the dining room, polishing off the rest of their drinks or picking at the remains of their desserts as they settled their bills.  A couple of busboys were clearing the last of the dishes and silverware from the empty tables, and in the lounge the bartender was wiping down the long scrubbed-wood countertop, meticulously rearranging the displayed bottles of liquor and house wines as went.  Except for the clatter of pot and pans and the occasional burst of laughter from the direction of the kitchen, the whole place had a very subdued feeling to it, which was not at all what she was expecting.

“Go ahead and have a seat in the lounge,” Poe said, untying the strings of his apron.  “Everyone’s just finishing cleaning up, and the other chefs should be here any time, so make yourself comfortable until then.”

“Is there anything I can help with?” Rey offered.  She never liked just sitting around doing nothing while other people did the work around her.

“Nah, we’re pretty much done.  Besides, I want to make sure you get a good first impression.  Besides, you’re not exactly on my payroll yet, right?” Poe said with a wink and a bright flash of a grin before heading back toward to the kitchen.

Rey sank down into the nearest chair, puzzled by Poe’s words.  “First impression?” “Yet?”  She tried not to let his ambiguity make her nervous, but her years in the foster system left her automatically leary of situations with unsure or questionable outcomes.  She reminded herself that Finn was in the back, and he would never let anything bad happen to her on his watch.  Also, Poe had yet to give her a reason to distrust him.  She wasn’t a helpless kid in the system anymore, and Finn and Poe were definitely good starts on her road to learning to start trusting people a little more.

It was still awkward, though, being the only person in the lounge other than the bartender, who was studiously pretending she didn’t exist.  To pass the time she pulled out her phone and flipped absentmindedly through her various apps, not really paying attention to any of them.

Finally, the last of the night’s diners bid the hostess a good night and stepped out of the restaurant.  As soon as the door was locked behind them, the bartender - a burly man with a head of thick, dark curly hair and a short-trimmed beard - looked straight at Rey with a smile and said, “What will you have, hon?”

Rey was so surprised by his sudden shift in demeanor that she almost dropped her phone.  “Oh, uh… I appreciate it, but I’m not twenty-one yet.”

The big man shrugged.  “No big thing.  You’re drinking among friends tonight.  Sorry for having to give you the cold shoulder there.  Gotta keep up appearances, you know?  If some people realize last call isn’t really last call you’ll never get them to leave.  I’m Snap, by the way.  Snap Wexley.”

“Rey Jakken,” she said as she jumped up from her chair to shake his hand.

“So we finally have a name to put to the face,” Snap said with a smile.  “The way Poe and Finn go on about you you’d think they found the reincarnation of Julia Child.  Now, how about that drink?”

“I’m still a little new to the whole drinking scene.  I’ll trust your recommendation.”

“One Snap caipirinha, coming up!” he declared happily, grabbing up a small glass from under the bar and flipping it from one hand to the other before setting it down on the countertop with a thunk.

As Snap muddled limes and sugar together in the bottom of the glass, Rey heard voices begin to flood into the lounge area from the kitchen, and a moment later the lounge was filled with the rest of Poe’s staff with Finn in the lead.  When he saw Rey a huge grin split his face and he swept her up in a huge hug.

“Whoa Finn, chill,” Rey laughed.  “You’re acting like we last saw each other weeks ago instead of just this morning.”

“I’m just glad you came!” Finn said jovially, keeping an arm thrown around her shoulder and steering her towards where the other chefs had already converged around the bar.   Snap slid her completed drink over to her and the rounds of introductions began.

Rey met them all: the sous chef; Poe’s line chefs who worked the grill, the saute station, and the fryer; his expediter; and his caller.  Like Finn, each one wore their title in the kitchen like a badge of honor, and they were all eager to describe their individual jobs to Rey.  The line chefs seemed especially keen on trying to convince her that their individual job was the most important of them all, and within moments several good-natured yet heavily expletive-laced arguments broke out among them until the sous chef told to them shut it and that they were all worthless.

Rey immediately decided that she liked all of them.

Within moments of everyone sitting down Snap’s highly-polished bar disappeared under a forest of bottles: rum, tequila, whiskey, and a hoard of Modelo and Bohemia beer.  Rey took her first sip of her caipirinha and was immediately in love with its sweet, tangy and incredibly refreshing taste despite the strength of its kick.  She finished it faster than she thought she was capable of, and Snap had a new one in front of her before she could blink.

Then they started to bring out the food.

Before her first cooking lesson, Finn had talked her ear off about Poe’s culinary background and achievements.  While traveling through Spain and Basque he fell in love with the tapas culture, which would later become his biggest inspiration for BB8.  Nearly all the bars throughout the country severed its own specialty appetizer foods, and patrons were heartily encouraged to eat, drink, and converse late into the night as they traveled from place to place around town.  The idea of the tapas crawl sounded absolutely amazing to Rey even before she discovered her love of cooking, but her limited culinary experience had her envisioning tapas as buffalo wings, artichoke and spinach dip, and deep fried cheese among other favorite American finger foods.

That all changed the instant the first plates were set down on the bartop.

Rey had never seen a langoustine before, much less eaten one (she couldn’t decide if they looked like small lobsters or large shrimp) but they tasked devine wrapped in serrano ham.  There were small chorizo sausages cooked in reduced sherry; albondagas, lamb meatballs in a spicy tomato sauce; a potato and egg omelette that put her own to shame, and potatos bravas drizzled with tomato aioli.  Rey even tried the grilled octopus and white anchovy fillets that came from a sealed can without thinking twice.  It was the best meal she’d ever eaten, even though Poe’s chefs insisted that it was all only leftovers from the night.  It didn’t matter to Rey: good food was good food.

Not before long other chefs began to trickle in, representing all the best foods the Village had to offer: Japanese, French, Italian, seafood, New American.  Each one brought their own offering in liquid form, and soon tiny cups of sake and glasses of wine joined the circulation of drinks.   The chefs greeted each other with a chorus of shouts and much back-pounding half-hugs.  They were loud and boorish, these men and women, simultaneously complaining about the long, arduous dinner rush while bragging about the number of plates they churned out, congratulating and insulting each other in turn.  Rey felt like she was being allowed to observe a secret brotherhood meeting, something that outsiders were very rarely privy to.  She still could not figure out why Poe and Finn were so pleased that she agreed to come to the gathering.  She wasn’t a chef, and although she liked Poe, she didn’t know if she could yet consider him a friend the same way she did Finn.  Was there something specific he wanted her to see?

“It was awful,” Rey overheard Finn telling a chef from an Italian restaurant.  “Five incoming orders for my chocolate salted caramel tart, and the damn mixer goes out mid-rotation.  Again.  Two days after the repairman guaranteed that it was fixed for good this time.  And of course when Poe tries to call the guy it goes straight to voicemail.  We think we can get a replacement before we open tomorrow, but I don’t know what I’m going to do if we can’t.”

“Want me to look at it?” Rey offered.

Finn looked blankly at her for a moment, then blinked and shook his head as realization suddenly dawned on him.  “Oh...oh!  That’s right, you’re an engineer major!”

Rey laughed as she slid off her stool.  “Good of you to remember.”

“Well, with the way you’ve been spending all your free time in the kitchen can you blame me for forgetting?  You can wait until tomorrow, though.  I don’t want you to waste your night going back for your tools or anything.”

“Who says I need to go anywhere?” Rey asked, hefting her bag over her shoulder as she followed Finn back to BB8’s kitchen.

The kitchen was a wide, rectangular room composed of white tiles, florescent lighting and an army of stainless steel appliances and equipment.  It should have all felt cold and industrial, but Poe managed to make it look elegant instead.  Finn gave Rey an impromptu tour of everything, from the cleaning and washing station right inside the entry door to the pick-up counters at the exit, to the pantries and refrigerators next to the tables used to food prep, the walls above them covered with an array of knives, measuring cups and spoons, and more herbs and spices than Rey thought ever existed.  In the middle of the kitchen was a long island where all the meals came together, a massive chimera of ovens, ranges, fryers, griddles, and exhaust hoods.  The whole kitchen was already shut down and cleaned for the night, every stainless steel surface gleaming and the air smelling of the remnants of hundred of dinners mixed with the sharp tang of cleaning supplies.  It was not until Finn nudged her that Rey realized that she had come to a stop to stare and take everything in.  A few months ago, she would have only seen it all as machines that could potentially break down and what would need to be done to fix them.  Now she wanted to know the purpose and function of everything she laid eyes on, and her fingers practically itched with wanting to practice her growing cooking skills on each and every one of them.

The offending mixer had already been unplugged and removed from Finn’s station to one of the prep tables.  Rey set her bag on the floor and dug out her canvas tool roll that she carried with her at all times.  Finn laughed incredulously as she set it next to the mixer.

“You know, most women get by with just lipstick and tampons in their purses,” he teased as she unfurled the canvas, revealing a screwdriver with interchangeable heads, needle-nose pliers, wrenches of various sizes, wire cutters, and a flashlight.

“I do, I just keep them all in separate pockets.  Now let’s see what the problem is.”

Kitchen Aide mixers were among some of the most common appliances that passed through Unkar Plutt’s shop, and although Finn’s was a larger industrial version Rey was certain she could pinpoint the problem in no time.  Within moments she had the main panel off and was tinkering with the mixer’s innards, checking the motor, wires, and all attached components as Finn yammered happily away next to her.  Snap came in once to refill their drinks, and beyond the swinging doors leading back to the main restaurant they could hear the raucous laughter and conversations between the other chefs.  Someone broke into a very loud, very off-key Irish drinking song, with more and more people joining in with every verse.

“There you two are,” Poe said as he strode into the kitchen sometime later.  “I was beginning to think that one of those knuckleheads scared Rey off.”

“Nope!  We’re just about done here,” Rey said as she and Finn set the mixer to rights.  She flipped the power switch and the mixing shaft began to rotate smoothly and sans the annoying clicking noise it had been making before.  Finn whooped and Poe gave a low whistle.

“Hot damn.  Is there anything you can’t do?”

“I can’t sew a button on to save my life,” Rey said as she packed her tools back up.

“Oh darn, looks like I’m going to have to find myself another taylor,” Poe said with an exaggerated sigh, and they all laughed.  “So, are you enjoying yourself?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Rey replied.  “Your restaurant is beautiful, the food is incredible and everyone here just seems to be really cool.”

“Great, I’m glad to hear it!” Poe beamed.  When he spoke again his tone changed; it was still light, but more serious than before.  “Actually, Rey, there is a specific reason why I invited you tonight.  You met Miguel earlier, right?  Well, right now he’s planning on moving back to the west coast in a few months, and once that happens I’ll be out a prep cook.  Now I have a whole drawer of resumes that I can go through and start lining up interviews for a replacement any time, but I wanted to first see if you’d be interested in stopping by in the mornings and early afternoons as your schedule allows so he can show you the ropes of what it means to work in a profession kitchen.  Keep in mind, it’s nothing like casual cooking at home: it’s a damn hard job.  I have two Michelin stars I need to protect, so I need all my staff to be up to par all the time.  The job is hot, it’s loud, it’s stressful, and we have to work at a constant break-neck pace.  During a solid dinner rush the caller will come bursting through that door rambling off twenty dinner orders, each one with a special request, and the ingredients you need for the first plate had better be on your cutting board well before he’s done with the last.”

It took Rey about a solid minute for her to process what Poe was talking about, and when it finally all came together a huge smile spread across her face.  “You’re offering me a job,” she stated simply.

“Kind of,” Poe said.  “I’m offer your the opportunity to see if you’re cut out for the job.  I’ve seen a lot of guys waltz into kitchens thinking they’re hot shit only to completely burn out in the first month.  You’ve already proven that you’re a fast learner, and if you manage to get up to the speed I need you to be at by the time Miguel’s ready to leave, the position is yours.”

“I…” Rey started, having swallow before trying again.  “I don’t know what to say…”

“The appropriate response would be ‘yes, of course, thank you very much!’” Finn said in a loud whisper.

Rey snorted a laugh and was just about to answer the same way when the atmosphere in the kitchen suddenly shifted so dramatically it was as though all the air had been sucked from the room.  Rey pinpointed the source of the disturbance immediately; or specifically, the decisive lack of one.  

The main dining area had fallen completely silent.

Poe’s handsome face creased with a troubled frown.  “You two stay here.  I’m going to figure out what’s going on.”  

As soon as he was out of the kitchen Finn and Rey were on their feet and following in his wake, crowding at the port window of the swinging door to hopefully catch a glimpse of whatever drama was unfolding beyond.

He stood like an obelisk in the middle of the lounge: towering, unmovable, and casting a long, dark shadow over the previous jovial gathering.  No one laughed, no one spoke or smiled as every gaze fixated on the newcomer.  Rey was reminded of those National Geographic documentaries that showed groups of animals and how their entire behavior changed as soon as they sensed a predator enter the area.  This predator in general was a giant, towering over even the tallest chef by several inches, and with the shoulder and chest width to match.  Rey’s first impression of his facial features was that they should never work: his nose was too long, his lips too full, his ears too big beneath his long black hair.  But the longer she studied him, the more she realized that not only did his odd features work on his particular facial structure, but she liked what she saw.  Like, really liked what she saw, more so than any guy she’d seen in a while.

Beside her, Finn cursed.  

“What the hell is he doing here?” he hissed.

“Who is he exactly?” Rey asked, unable to tear her gaze away from the living shadow darkening the lounge.

“Kylo Ren.  The culinary world’s very own Machiavellian Prince,” Finn explained in a low voice.  “Have you heard of Giacovanni Snoke?”

“No,” Rey said, although there was something about the name that immediately made her feel uneasy.

“Well, if you make the cut in this industry you will.  He’s the godfather of what’s hot and what’s not in entertainment in all of New York.  I don’t know the full extension of his reach, but it’s safe to assume that every prestigious nightclub in the city, every talent agency, recording station and music hall is somehow deeply influenced if not outright owned by him. When the culinary scene and foodie culture really started to really take off he had to get his sleazy claws into that as well.  Kylo Ren’s been his restaurant poster boy for maybe seven years now, his hand-picked prodigy as a new breed of celebrity chef.  I’ve heard people call him the Armani or the Andy Worhal of the food world, or some crap like that.  His restaurant’s right in the heart of Fifth Avenue and he’s basically Snoke’s right-hand man.”

“So why is this Kylo Ren here?”

“As I’m sure you can imagine, Snoke’s not too fond of people who overstep his influence.  It’s kind of this unwritten rule that a restaurant in New York’s not truly sanctioned until it’s been reviewed by a major food critic.  Well, Poe’s first big review came from Leia Organa, the city’s queen of food and restaurant columns.  It was her review that ultimately got him his Stars.  She’s still one of the only people whose influence Snoke can’t cancel out, but that doesn’t stop him from reminding those under her wing that he’s still watching, so he’ll send out his thugs as a sort of calling card.  Let’s just hope no one’s drunk enough to try anything stupid.  It’s Poe’s reputation on the line if they do.”

Poe seemed determined to keep something like that from happening.  His whole body language as he marched up to Ren said that he was not about to be bullied or intimidated, even with the other chef looming over him by at least half a foot.  Although the two men’s faces remained neutral as they spoke to one another, Rey could almost see the air sparking with tension between the two of them.    All of the other chefs kept their distance, but she could tell just by looking at their faces that they were ready to jump to Poe’s defence against this intruder in a moment’s notice if they needed to.

At last the uncomfortable exchange was concluded, and Ren turned to leave the restaurant.  Rey released the breath she had been holding, not realizing she was even doing so until her lungs started to burn, but she could not take her eyes off the other chef’s retreating form. When he moved, it wasn’t with a predator’s grace as Rey had expected, but more as a force of nature, threatening to bowl over anyone and anything that didn’t get out of his way.  

Suddenly Ren turned his head and looked toward the kitchen doors, directly at the window through which she and Finn watched the whole exchange.  Then, inexplicably, his dark eyes seemed to lock with hers.  Rey gasped and flung herself away from the window, her heart jumping into her throat.  Did he see her?  She knew it must have entirely been a coincidence, but for a split second she could almost swear that he knew she was there.

Soon voices began to drift back in from the lounge, first tinny and subdued but quickly growing in strength and volume until it was as if nothing had happened.  The only way Rey knew differently was because of the way her pulse continued to thunder in her ears and the way her nerves seemed to vibrate under her skin.  Their eyes had met for only the most fleeting of instances, but she felt like she got jabbed with a cattle prod.

“Oh shit, Poe’s coming back,” Finn said, grabbing Rey’s wrist and pulling her back towards the prep station.  By the time Poe entered the kitchen again they had situated themselves back by the mixer, trying to look uninterested in what just transpired.  Poe grinned and shook his head when he saw them.

“You two are about as subtle as a brick to the face, you know that?” he said.

“What was all that about?” Finn asked.

“Same old, same old,” Poe said with a wave of his hand.  “His boss likes to try to intimidate those outside his reach into thinking that he calls the shots, and I send back the message that I don’t give two flying fucks what he think he thinks.”

“I’d still be careful, Poe,” Finn said with a frown.  “Snoke wouldn’t send Ren out here just for fun.  He’s watching you for some reason.”

“Well, if he has something to say he can say it himself, not through one of his cronies, no matter how many Stars he has.  Now, back to more important matters.  Where were we?”

They picked up right where they left off, discussing what the first of Rey’s tasks were to be and coordinating her class and already-established work schedule with Miguel’s hours.  Poe and Finn carried on as though nothing out of the ordinary took place.  Rey tried to follow suit, doing her best to put Kylo Ren out of her mind.

It turned out to be much more difficult than she anticipated.

[omegaling]

Allez Cuisine! ~Chapter Three

Allez Cuisine! Chapter Three: Ambitions and Tacos

Rating: T and up

Warnings: Mild language, fleeting mention of drug use

Chapter Three: Ambitions and Tacos (read on AO3 here)

When Rey returned to her apartment, she immediately put her newfound talent to use.  Within two hours the small kitchen was in complete disarray.  Eggshells filled the sink, dishes were stacked precariously on the stovetop, and grated cheese was strewn across the counter like wood shavings, but amidst the chaos lay four beautiful omelettes, each one filled with a different cheese and herb combination.  Some of the combinations worked better than others, and Rey knew that there was still a lot of room for improvement despite Poe’s earlier praise of her gourmet-quality omelette, but for the moment she basked in the knowledge that she was able to do something she never thought she was capable of before today.  

She also didn’t ever think she’d be the type of person who’d ever take pictures of their culinary achievements, but it turned out to be a small mercy when she took out her phone to do just that: as it turned out she had been so wrapped up with cooking that she completely lost track of time, and now had only twenty minutes to get to work.  Rey yelped loudly before proceeding to throw everything in the sink with a raucous clatter while simultaneously peeling off her shirt so she could change into her work clothes.

As she tried to jam her feet into her shoes, Rey scribbled a hasty note to Finn on a post-it that said, “Kitchen a wreck, will clean when I get home. ”  Holding the note between her teeth, Rey grabbed her satchel and keys and was just about to run out the door when she remembered her omelettes sitting virtually untouched on the counter.  A pang of guilt coursed through her.  Even when her food situation was at its worse, Rey always did her best to not waste what was given to her, knowing how much worse off she could be.  She hated the thought of her creations going bad and being thrown in the trash, so she scooped up the paper plates the omelettes rested on, one in each hand.  Somehow she managed to open the door without spilling anything.  A familiar sour-sweet smell tickled her nose as soon as she stepped into the hall, and a few minutes later her omelettes were in the care of the three stoners who lived a few doors down from her a Poe before racing out of her building to work.  She vaguely wished that her first home-cooked meal wasn’t put to the use of fulfilling a couple of potheads’ munchie cravings, but there would be more omelettes in the future.

And that was only the beginning.

Going to college had always been Rey’s greatest ambition in life, and all four years of high school were dedicated to making that happen.  It had not been easy to accomplish.  Unkar Plutt made sure that all of Rey’s free time was utilized in “helping” him in his seedy repair shop; his bloated and chronically sweaty hands prevented him from working on the more delicate mechanisms in the cars and appliances sent to him, so her hands were often used in their place.  The only time she got to do her homework was when he was passed out in front of the blaring TV, and was usually not finished with it until two or three o’clock in the morning.  After school extra curricular activities were out of the question, but when she was a junior she was able to sign up for her school’s automotive elective.  For two years she let her teacher believe that she just had a knack for working on car’s mechanical innards and not due to being a product of child slave labor.  It still worked in her favor, as he vowed to help her get into any college she wanted to go to.  By the time she graduated from high school, Rey was in the top ten percent of her class, had several glowing letters of recommendation, and, best of all, an acceptance to NYU’s School of Engineering.

Her plan for the future had always been simple and foolproof: get her bachelor’s degree in auto mechanics, use said degree to get a job at a reputable garage, and after a few years of saving and building a clientele, she’d open a garage of her own.  To be her own boss was her ultimate goal in life.  There were times when holding onto the dream was the only thing that got her through the hard days, especially during those last few months with Plutt.  But for the first time in six years, Rey felt her ambition in achieving that goal start to waver, because the only thing she could think about since her class with Chef Poe Dameron was cooking and how to improve herself.

The realization was unsettling at first.  Rey had always been so focused on the endgame of owning her own garage that she always assumed that there wasn’t any room left for anything else.  Over the course of the next few days she managed to pinpoint what exactly was bothering her so much.  Yes, she was skilled when it came to working on cars and fixing appliances, but that’s all it was, and all it would ever be: a skill necessary for survival.  She never really harbored any passion for it.  When she first stepped into Poe’s class, she anticipated that cooking would only be a skill she’d pick up for no other reason than it’d be useful to have; now she was so eager for her next lesson it was like having a constant itch between her shoulder blades, and she knew of only one way to scratch it.

She kept it simple in the beginning, not venturing too far from the basics that Poe taught in the class.  She caramelized mushrooms and onions and added them to pasta, browned meat and sauteed vegetables for tacos, put together salads with an endless combinations of ingredients, and further worked on perfecting her egg techniques (if Finn got tired of all her egg-based experimentations, then he was an absolute saint by not saying anything).  She shied away from recipes that involved searing beef or frying or baking chicken, even after watching several YouTube videos on the subject.  She didn’t like the lack of face-to-face interaction and the ability to ask specific questions when she needed to.  Besides, meat was expensive, and she wasn’t really keen on the idea of throwing away any amount of it before she learned how to cook it properly.

That was exactly what Poe tackled in his second seminar.  When Rey and the other students entered the Weinstein kitchen a group of assistants were setting raw whole chickens on each station’s cutting board.  Platters of breasts and thighs were also set out on the counter, as well as an assortment of vegetables, a few dozen eggs, canisters of basic herbs, and all the other ingredients they’d be using that day.  Rey felt a thrill of anticipation at the sight of it all.

When Poe arrived, he shot Rey a wink and a flash of a smile before jumping into that day’s topics with the same energy and charisma as the last time.

They started off by learning the guaranteed techniques needed to perfectly oven-roast a whole chicken.  Each student was first shown how to clean and truss the birds.  Rey was surprised when Poe told them the only other thing they needed to do to get the chickens ready for roasting was add some raw onions, garlic, and a sprig each of thyme and rosemary to the body cavity, then rub the skin down with melted butter, salt and pepper.

“A lot of beginning cooks believe that the more herbs they add to a dish, especially any kind of protein, the better, because it adds more flavor, so they’ll create a crust of herbs on their birds using everything they have in their pantries,” Poe explained as Rey and the others chopped up carrots, potatoes, and turnips and added them to the roasting pans.  “Actually, you want to do the exact opposite.  Meat, especially chicken, has a lot of flavor on its own, and it’s the other ingredients you cook with it that will help coax it out.  For instance: your chickens will absorb the flavors from the vegetables in the pan and in the body cavity; and the same goes for the vegetables absorbing the flavors of the chicken as they cook.  It’s the perfect symbiotic relationship.”

As the chickens roasted away in the ovens the students turned their attention to the platters of breasts, fillets, and thighs.  Many of the dishes Poe walked them through had only a few ingredients each, making them easily manageable and yet satisfying as they stuffed, breaded, pan-fried and baked their way through the next hour.  By the time they were putting their final touches on their teriyaki chicken noodles their roasted chickens were ready to come out of the ovens.  Poe’s technique was, of course, perfect; while his other chicken recipes had various outcomes from student to student, all of the roasted birds cooked to a delicious golden-brown on the outside and white and juicy on the inside.

The last part of their session that day was learning how to prepare inexpensive cuts of beef for things like fajitas and stir fry.  Since they had some time left afterwards, Poe ended the day with a treat; a quick lesson on how to make authentic Guatemalan tacos.  Rey watched with rapt attention as Poe moved with expertise grace around his station, slicing plump green tomatillos and slender jalapeño peppers, browning beef, and combining it all together as though it was as natural as breathing to him.  Watching him bring  was like watching a dancer on stage, or a sculptor working at their pottery wheel.  What he did wasn’t just cooking: it was art.

When he was done, everyone was invited to have a taste.  Poe’s tacos were superb, but it was in the sauce made of tomatillos, garlic, jalapeño, cilantro and avocado where the true flavor lived.  The taste was complex without any of the separate ingredients overpowering each other, creating the perfect storm of flavors in Rey’s mouth.  Every ounce of praise she heard about Poe’s cooking was wholly deserved.

“Finn tells me you’ve taken over dinner duty at home,” Poe said after the rest of the students had departed.  “I’m sure he always tells you, but he has nothing but good things to say about your meals.  The rate you’re learning is really incredible.”

Rey gave a half-shrug, raising one shoulder and letting it drop again.  “It’s no big thing, really.  Just a lot of simple stuff.”

“Well, considering you were a completely blank slate when you first started, that in itself is impressive.  We all need to start somewhere, after all.  See you in two weeks?"

Further bolstered by Poe’s encouragement, Rey applied her newly acquired knowledge with renewed gusto.  Now that she didn’t have to worry so much about potentially wasting more expensive ingredients, her collection of recipes began to grow by leaps and bounds.  She not only practiced the meals Poe taught to them in his class, but also accumulated variations of meals she particularly liked from the university’s cafeterias and on the rare occasions when she and Finn went out to eat because neither of them had the time nor the energy to cook.  Rey started to pay attention to the different flavors and textures that played across her tongue every time she took a bite, making mental notations of what each dish was supposed to taste like when it was made properly.  At the beginning Rey followed all the directions to each recipe she attempted to the letter, but soon she started to build the confidence to start making small alterations to each of them, adjusting this or that just enough to make the flavors flow together a little smoother.  Her efforts certainly didn’t go unnoticed, either; Finn practically gushed his appraisal over each meal she cooked, and nearly every neighbor she met in the hall had something positive to say about the smells coming from her apartment.

When her next payday rolled around, Rey felt particularly adventurous and bought all the ingredients she needed to re-create Poe’s tacos.  She knew that it would be a little harder to pull off considering she only had her hand-written notes from class that she hastily wrote down as she observed him work, but she was sure she could make do with what she had.  The onions and the beef cooked beautifully on her first attempt, but there was a bit of trial-and-error where the green sauce was concerned.  Rey had to start over from scratch twice before she felt she finally got the combination of ingredients right.

“Something smells fabulous, as usual,” Finn said by way of a greeting as he stepped into the kitchen.  He looked slightly frazzled and worn out as he always did after a double shift on a Friday at BB8, but no matter how demanding the pre-show dinner rush was or what disasters befell the kitchen Rey had yet to see him lose that spark of good will and humor in his dark eyes.  “Oh?  Mexican tonight?”

“Close-ish,” Rey said, setting down a plate of warm corn tortillas on the counter.  “Guatemalan, actually, courtesy of your boss.”

“Ooh, he must be really impressed with you guys to show you how to make his famous tacos.  Well, this looks amazing.  Let’s tuck in!”

Rey loaded up her tortilla with fried potatoes, steak and onions, then topped it with the green sauce and a sprinkling of cheese.  Taking a bite, Rey was not disappointed with the results; it was astonishingly close to what Poe served them.

Finn, on the other hand, was staring at his taco as if some holy vision appeared on his tortilla.

“What?” Rey asked with a little more exacerbation than she intended.

“This is…” Finn cleared his throat.  “Chef Poe really gave you the recipe for this?”

“Well, kind of.  He showed us how to make them but he didn’t walk the whole class through step-by-step.  I just took down the notes as he explained what he was doing.”

“Just the one time?”

“Well, yeah.  It’s not like I’ve been taking private lessons with him.  Why?”

“Don’t get me wrong, yours are amazing!  It just caught me off guard because they taste exactly like Poe’s.”  Finn fixed Rey with the most serious expression she ever saw on him, cutting off any attempt to protest his claim before she could make it.  “You have real talent Rey.  I may not be the vet that Poe is, but I’ve been in the industry long enough to at least recognize that.  And by god, I’m going to do everything in my power to help you realize that, too.”

Poe's last lesson at the Weinstein kitchen was far more laid-back than the previous two.  They pan-roasted salmon and vegetables in a single baking dish for a quick, easy seafood dinner (“Don’t neglect those Omega-3’s, especially around midterms and finals roll around,” Poe had said), then explored the many ways to make delectable sides with potatoes, both Idaho and sweet.  To round out their seminar, Poe taught them what he considered the most important thing a college student should be able to make: homemade chocolate chip cookies.  Soon the whole kitchen smelled of warm, soft cookies, and the students sat around on chairs and countertops as they enjoyed the gooey fruits of their labor, exchanging phone numbers, talking about classes, or getting last-minute questions answered by Poe.  Rey, however, kept to the back, away from the rest of the jovial group.  She felt legitimately sad that the seminar was now officially over, not only because she enjoyed learning new skills to apply at home later, but because she genuinely liked Poe and would miss his company.

“I don’t know if you’d be interested,” Poe started to say when, once again, the other students left the kitchen and he and Rey was the only ones left, “but there’s a get-together happening at my restaurant tonight after-hours.  It’s just me, my staff, and then a few other local chefs getting together for drinks and to blow off some steam.  Finn will be there too of course. You’re more than welcome to join us.  Then again, if you have somewhere else you’d rather be on a Saturday night rather than hanging out with a bunch of crusty old chefs, I completely understand.”

“Are you kidding?” Rey said without thinking twice.  “What time does it start?”

[omegaling]

I am having way too much fun researching what Poe would have on his menu at BB8.  Also, I am consistently hungry while writing this fic.