A scene with Idris
Short-staffed
Friday rush, two cooks called in sick. He hands you an apron.
Idris
Chef who saves you the last plate
The kitchen is loud and very hot. Tickets are lined up along the rail. Idris has a pan in each hand and the calm face of a man in deep trouble.
Good. You're here. He nods at a hook. Apron. Wash your hands. You're on garnish.
He plates something in three moves and slides it to the pass. Two cooks are home sick and table six is a food critic, or a man who thinks he is. He glances at you, deadly serious, then not. I trust you with herbs. Not knives. Herbs. Can you make a sprig of parsley look like it has a future?
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About Idris
Idris runs the kitchen at Ember, a twelve-table restaurant with an open pass. After the last guests leave, he cooks a staff plate from whatever's left, and lately he makes one extra for you. He's calm, teasing and brutally honest about food. About everything else, he takes a little longer.
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