Fiction: Meal Machine
Nov. 3rd, 2011 06:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kethniName: Meal Machine
Pairing: Matt/Sandra, Mohinder/Adam
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Food porn?
Word Count: 6200 approximately
Authors Note: With thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jaune_chat for the prompt Matt is a great cook, and runs a popular food truck with a few friends. They end up getting into a contest to win cash and bragging rights (a la The Great Food Truck Race or Top Chef or something), and some of the other contestants are playing dirty. Time to set things right (by just out-cooking them, sticking it to them, or however you want to play it)!
The pan sizzles, adding its refrain to the percussive beat of dough being kneaded, the staccato pulse of the potatoes being chopped and the low hum of the coffee pot.
Matt wraps up a pork confit with apple cider mousse sandwich and trades it for payment with his salivating customer. Matt would be the first to admit that his food is not fast: not quickly prepared and not to be eaten quickly. Matt makes food to be savoured. Enjoyed. Lingered over. But he’s not an idiot and in exchange for an upfront credit card payment he’ll happily have pre-ordered food ready for pickup from his van within a fifteen minute timeslot. No sooner. No later. Cooking demands the precision of chemistry and the passion of art.
For those willing to wait, the LA Meal Machine aims to have requested food ready within thirty minutes of the order. Pre-prepared yes; precooked never.
‘Matt, people are starting to whine they can’t yet order for tomorrow,’ Sandra says, holding the phone pressed against her shoulder.
Matt glances at the clock and then shakes his head. ‘Come on Sandra, it isn’t even half twelve yet.’
‘I know, Sugar, I’m just passing on what they’re giving me.’
Matt gestures and she presses the phone to his ear. ‘This is Matt. We take orders from four in the afternoon until eleven thirty the following morning. I appreciate that you know what you want to eat tomorrow, Sir, but we’re not taking telephone orders right now. Because this is our busiest time and I have thirty walkbys waiting for service. If you want to order something for tomorrow then call back at four. If you want something for today then you’ll have to come to the truck and take your chances. No, Sir, we’ll be in Hollywood tomorrow. Same to you, Sir.’
Sandra thumbs the phone off and tucks it into her pocket. ‘He get cute with you?’
‘Chalk up another “f off and die” on the board,’ Matt says cheerily.
‘Folks get so angry about food,’ Charlie says, shaking her head.
‘If we had another truck we could cover a lot more ground,’ Sandra says. ‘Maybe have one truck do pre-orders only and the other do walkbys, that way we could get away without another full time chef just a couple of assistants.’
Matt nods. ‘If I had a spare fifty thousand dollars lying around then we could do that.’ He kisses Sandra on the cheek. ‘Not happening anytime soon.’
‘You know, first prize for The Great Van Cook Off is a hundred thousand dollars,’ Charlie says, blending ingredients together without a thought or sight of a recipe. She glances over at Matt and grins. ‘It’s that new show? I think we’d have a real good shot.’
‘Those kind of shows are all about gourmet food,’ Matt says mildly.
‘Honey, you’re cooking cranberry and goat’s cheese fritter that you’re going to serve with a date and walnut salad,’ Sandra points out. ‘It’s not exactly a corn dog now is it?’
‘We’d lose a whole day’s takings,’ Matt protests.
‘It’ll be worth it if we win!’
‘What if we don’t?
Sandra shrugs. ‘Then we’ll go out on a Sunday to West Hollywood and pick up all that tourist money to make up the takings. At least we’ll have tried and the publicity can’t hurt.’
‘What’ve we got to lose?’ Charlie asks brightly.
‘Exactly,’ Sandra says triumphantly. ‘Oh, and if you can you should totally take Monica.’
Matt raises his eyebrows. ‘So now you’ve strong armed me into this idea you don’t want to come along?’
Sandra puts her hands on her hips. ‘Matt, I am old enough and ugly enough to admit that Monica would be more useful than me. Technique is sometimes an issue with these competitions and you know she never learns bad habits. You show her a thing once the right way and she’ll do it that way forever more.’
‘A likely story. Where’re you going?’
‘To find out how to sign us up,’ she says sweetly. ‘Before you change your mind.’
‘You could be famous,’ Gretchen says leaning forward across the table. ‘You could launch like… a range of sauces or have your own sandwich!’
‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ Matt says carefully.
‘A sandwich?’ Claire laughs.
‘If your stepdad is famous he can have a sandwich,’ Gretchen argues.
‘Duh, he has his own mobile restaurant he can call as many sandwiches after himself as he likes.’
Lyle sniggers to himself. ‘Maybe he can have a Matt patty.’
‘That’s real cute Lyle,’ Sandra says, ‘just like it was real cute the first six times you thought of funny things that Matt could call the sandwiches.’
‘I don’t even know that we’re going to get on the show,’ Matt says, twirling spaghetti around his fork. ‘We applied but, you know, there’s no reason to think we’ll get picked up for it.’
Sandra licks a speck of tomato source from her lips. ‘Nothing but the fact that we’re one of the best vans around and one of the most popular too.’
Matt pinks a little. ‘I wish I had your faith.’
Sandra puts her hand over his. ‘I wish you did too! But until you do I’ll just have faith for both of us.’
‘Urgh get a room you guys,’ Lyle groans.
‘Oh shush you!’ Sandra says, narrowing her eyes.
‘The more you tease your mom and Claire the more they’re going to rip on you when you bring someone home,’ Matt says to Lyle.
Claire snorts. ‘Like anyone would ever date Lyle.’
‘I’m sure that they’re someone for everyone,’ Gretchen says, flicking her hair behind her ear. ‘Everyone has their soul mate,’ she says, gripping Claire’s hand.
‘Gee out of all the people in whole world I better hope my soul mate is coincidentally somewhere near where I live,’ Lyle says rolling his eyes. ‘Ow! Claire kicked me!’
‘He deserved it!’
‘Oh Good Lord,’ Sandra says, covering her eyes. ‘Sometimes I wonder how I ended up with two teenagers who still act like six year olds.’
The soup glugs as Matt pours it carefully into the blender.
‘Is the funky soup still on?’ Elle calls through the window.
‘We don’t serve “funky” soup,’ Matt retorts. ‘But we have spicy tomato and blue cheese soup. Got some nice crusty bread to eat with it.’
‘Well dish me up some of that and heavy on the cheese,’ she says leaning on the counter. ‘Mmm mmm gotta love that blue cheese. I like it best when it’s all runny.’
‘It’s got the perfect amount of blue cheese in it.’
‘I want more. More, more, more!’ Elle pounds her hands on the counter.
Sandra smacks her hands with a spoon. ‘Hands off the counter, Cuddles. If you’re not staff and you’re not food, you’ve got no business being there.’
‘I could be food,’ Elle says with a leer. ‘I bet I taste awesome.’
‘No thanks, I don’t like too many artificial additives.’
Matt walks over and carefully puts a carton on the counter. Inside there is a waxed soup bowl full of soup and a selection of breads. ‘Here’s your lunch, Elle.’
‘Did you put some extra cheese in there just for me?’ she asks sweetly.
‘No I didn’t,’ he replies in his own sugary, sweet voice.
Sandra walks away to answer her phone as Elle opens the soup and takes a sip.
‘When’re you going to give me the nod to come in there and spice things up with you both?’ Elle asks as she sips her soup.
‘Seasoning only works in small doses,’ Matt says, shaking his head although he smiles at her. ‘You’d be too much spice for us.’
‘Aw you’re no fun.’
Sandra walks back holding the phone against her chest. Matt slips an arm around her waist and pulls her closer.
‘Are you okay? You’re looking a little pink.’
‘That was “The Great Van Cook off”,’ she says, and Matt notices that her eyes are sparkling, ‘we’ve been accepted in the competition and we start Tuesday.’
‘Whoo hoo!’ Elle cheers. ‘What does that mean?’
‘It means you’ll have to get your lunch somewhere else on Tuesday,’ Matt says.
Matt’s not quite sure what he expected when they set out for the studio but the makeup and costumes certainly weren’t it.
‘We’re thinking maybe something in a lumberjack check shirt,’ says Candace the wardrobe woman says holding one up against herself, ‘and some nice corduroy trousers.’
‘I thought this was a cookery show?’ Matt asks.
‘Absolutely, so we’re thinking of a working class/ blue collar theme for your team. Sort of “Roseanne” type of look for you.’
Matt folds his arms. ‘What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?’
‘It isn’t the image that we’re looking for. See we have you, and the English guys, and the upper class Italian-American family.’ She smiles. ‘Image is vital in television.’
‘Yeah? I can see that.’
Candace holds the shirt out to him. ‘Okay then, try that on.’
Matt shakes his head. ‘No. I appreciate your point, but we’re not actors or TV personalities, we’re just people. I’m not going to embarrass myself and I’m not going to embarrass my crew by dressing up like some kind of parodies of whatever you think “blue collar” is.’
Candace rolls her eyes and throws down the shirt. ‘Geez what is it with you people! The English won’t wear frilly shirts, the Italians won’t wear suits, and you won’t wear check shirts!’
‘Nobody can cook in suits!’
‘It’s television!’ Candace wails. ‘How it looks is the most important thing.’
‘Yeah, well, it’s also cooking. If people set themselves on fire then it’ll be a whole different TV show.’
‘Can you believe they tried to make me wear a little leather mini-skirt!’ Charlie demands as Matt joins the rest in the makeup trailer.
‘At least they didn’t try to put you in a leopard print jumpsuit,’ Monica says. ‘As if the leopard print wasn’t bad enough it was a jumpsuit. Do I look like I’d wear one of those dumb ass things to you?’
Matt is ushered into a seat next to them. ‘It’s not really fair to ask a married man to think about attractive young women in mini-skirts and jumpsuits.’
‘Oh you,’ Charlie laughs.
‘I’m so nervous,’ Monica says quietly.
‘You’ll be awesome,’ Matt promises. ‘Have you seen anything of the other teams?’
Monica answers while Charlie and her makeup artist are bewailing the lack of a foundation that will suit her skin colour.
‘I was in the wardrobe department with a couple of guys. One of them was pretty cute but the other one was absolutely drop dead gorgeous,’ she says with a sigh. ‘He’s like some kind of statue brought to life.’
‘English or Italian-American?’ Matt asks.
‘They were both English,’ she says. ‘They were refusing to wear these shirts with ruffles and all slashed up. It was kind of a shame. I think they’d have looked hot.’
Matt grins at her. ‘They’d have probably thought the same about the mini-skirt and the jumpsuit.’
Monica laughs and shakes her head. ‘Nobody looks hot in a jumpsuit. Nobody!’
‘I’m really starting to worry about this show,’ Matt says. ‘If they start off putting us in themed costumes then where will we end?’
‘There’s a lot of cooking shows,’ Monica says with a shrug. ‘I guess they figured that they’d try some kind of gimmick for it.’
‘Beyond making us use some surprise ingredient in the dessert course and dashing round a grocers to buy supplies in a great panicked rush?’
‘All cooking shows do those kinds of things. They like to up the ante.’
The kitchen they’ll be working in reminds Matt of the first restaurant he ever bussed in. It’s narrow, cramped, and once they start cooking it threatens to become extremely hot. Each of the teams is shown to a workspace and assigned a couple of cupboards.
At this point one of the other teams starts to protest.
‘Our cupboard doesn’t lock.’
‘Are those the Italians?’ Charlie whispers to Matt.
‘I guess so.’
The Italian-American team comprise of two sons and their mother. The younger son is the one complaining about the lack of a lock while the eldest son is looking around the kitchen thoughtfully.
‘None of them lock, darling,’ the blond, blue-eyed Englishman calls over. ‘We’ll have to use an honour system.’
Charlie peers at the Englishmen, which she doesn’t find a chore.
‘Aren’t they the guys from the “Purple Passion Wagon”, Matt? The van that does all the LGBT events?’
‘Are you sure?’ Monica asks. ‘I’m pretty sure they’re English, not gay. I know English guys can be a little fruity but…’
Charlie shakes her head. ‘I’m pretty sure they’re English and gay.’
‘Damn. What do you think, Matt?’
Matt shrugs and leans back against the counter. ‘I don’t know about anything else but they definitely run the Passion Wagon. They do all that organic and low fat stuff.’
‘Huh, then we don’t have to worry about them,’ Monica says cheerily.
‘How do you figure?’
‘All that low fat, vegan, carb free stuff tastes terrible!’
‘Nobody said vegan,’ Charlie points out.
‘No but you know that’s what they cook. Organic is just gateway cooking to vegan.’
Matt chuckles. ‘Gateway cooking?’
‘You know I’m right.’ Monica stops abruptly. ‘Hi there.’
The tall, dark, and handsome man smiles. ‘Hello again.’ He nods at Matt and Charlie. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Mohinder. My partner, Adam, and I run the Passion Wagon. I thought I’d come over and scout out the opposition.’
‘Charlie Andrews, hello.’
‘Matt Parkman. Both our vans covered the gay pride march this year. We couldn’t keep up with the demand.’
Mohinder’s eyes glitter. ‘I’m afraid that bears don’t always know what’s good for them. Twinks tend to be much more sensible in their diet.’
Matt’s smile is friendly but steely. ‘I’m sure that they can get what’s good for them at home. Eating out is an indulgence and people should be allowed an indulgence now and then if they want.’
‘Even if it’s bad for them?’
‘It’s not an indulgence if it’s not.’
Mohinder’s gaze flicks over Matt, drinking him in. ‘I assume you’re not wearing the costume they picked out? Your ensemble looks rather too subtle. I imagine they tried to dress you like a biker?’
‘A lumberjack, more or less.’
‘They tried to get me into a leather mini-skirt!’
‘You’ve doubtless got the legs,’ Mohinder says thoughtfully, looking at Charlie, ‘but not the slutty persona. I’d put you in a nice sundress, or perhaps some mid-thigh length denim shorts. Cute but sexy.’
‘Are you a cook or a fashion designer?’ Matt asks.
‘I’m a chef. That doesn’t mean that I can’t have an eye for beauty.’
‘Well I’m a cook,’ Matt says, ‘and I have an eye for someone trying some kind of mind games right now. So shoo, okay?’
‘If you intend telling the Petrellis to “shoo” at any point please let me know,’ Mohinder says. ‘I love to see the look on Angela Petrelli’s face.’
‘Why, you don’t like her?’ Charlie asks.
Mohinder shrugs. ‘I don’t dislike her. I merely note that there is no gossip about our business associates disappearing, or your business associates vanishing, but there is about hers evaporating into thin air.’
‘Maybe they ate the food,’ Charlie says gloomily. ‘All that cream and butter has to take a toll.’
‘Maybe,’ Matt says before turning to Mohinder. ‘Do I have to put you over my shoulder and carry you back?’
‘Can I have a raincheck? I’ve just eaten. I do love an alpha male though.’ Mohinder nods to Charlie and Monica. ‘Ladies,’ he says, and walks back to his partner.
‘I said he was gorgeous,’ Monica sighs.
‘Well I said he was gay,’ Charlie points out. ‘You don’t want a pretty one, Monica. You get a pretty one and they don’t care what you look like, only what they look like. They’re always stealing your hairspray and cheating on you with your friends, and then you’re supposed to let it go because they’re so gosh darn cute!’
Monica and Matt exchange a look.
‘Are we still talking about me?’ Monica asks.
‘Yes, what you want is a nice guy who doesn’t realise how handsome he is. Like Matt! But not Matt because I bet Sandra can punch really hard.’
‘Sandra’s not going to be hitting anyone,’ Matt says firmly.
‘I thought I was nervous,’ Monica laughs. ‘Wow Charlie, you can really babble when the mood strikes you.’
‘Don’t let me talk on camera, I’ll make sure a fool of myself,’ she says, rubbing her forehead.
‘Everyone is going to make fools of themselves,’ Matt says gravely. ‘But we didn’t put on the costumes so we’re already less foolish than we might otherwise have been.’
‘Oh gosh, here comes one of the mobsters.’
‘At least he’s cute,’ Monica says, and gives him a bright smile as he approaches. ‘Hi! I’m Monica.’
‘Hey, I’m Peter. That’s my bother Nathan and our mom, Angela,’ Peter says tucking his hands into his pockets. ‘So you’re the Meal Machine? That’s cool. Everyone says you’re the guys to beat. In the competition! Not the guys to beat up. Obviously I don’t mean that.’ Peter smiles. ‘I’m not always the greatest at explaining myself.’
Monica twines a lock of hair around her finger. ‘That’s okay.’
‘I think we’ve seen your van around,’ Peter says. ‘We do a lot of studios and that like.’
‘We move around,’ Matt says. ‘So yours is a family business?’
‘Yeah, well, I help out but its mom’s baby. She has a way of getting people to run around for her thought.’
‘You must be a good son,’ Monica says sweetly.
‘You think? I try. Nathan is too busy but she strong armed him into coming today.’
Matt leans forward. ‘Sorry, are you saying that you and your brother don’t normally work in the van?’
Peter laughs and shakes his head. ‘Does my mom look like someone who cooks? She has a catering team. I guess she figured it would be better publicity to keep up the family business thing by us coming here.’
‘Gosh, it’s so great you guys look after your mom,’ Charlie says in the sudden silence.
‘Yeah. It’s amazing. You should probably go get back to her,’ Matt says, flapping him away.
‘Monica Dawson, I am shocked!’ Charlie says as soon as Peter is out of hearing distance.
‘Why?’
‘Because you practically threw yourself at that boy!’
Monica raises her eyebrows. ‘Charlie, it’s the twenty-first century and I can throw myself at boys if I want. We don’t have to wait for guys to make the first move anymore.’
‘Well… what would your momma say?’
‘She’d say I should’ve found out if he had a girlfriend.’
‘I hope she’d tell you to wait until after the competition,’ Matt says mildly. ‘Maybe he’s flirting to distract you. I hear men can do that now. This is the twenty-first century.’
Charlie folds her arms over her chest. ‘It seems like they’re taking an awful risk with the three of them coming when they don’t seem to have much experience.’
‘He says they don’t,’ Matt says with a shrug. ‘I’ll believe it when I see them burning water.’
The judges stalk about the kitchen, handing out instructions, ingredients, and caustic comments.
‘My goodness,’ Daniel Linderman says, looking at the Meal Machine team, ‘I was under the impression you were a troupe of pals.’
‘That’s right,’ Matt says, once he’s translated this in his head.
‘Really? Your friends include two beautiful, if somewhat overdressed, young women?’
Monica feels the weight of a frying pan in her hand.
‘I have lots of friends,’ Matt says with a shrug.
‘But you brought the two beautiful women.’
‘They’re the best cooks.’
‘Excuse me?’ Monica says. ‘Did you maybe consider that we brought him?’
Linderman bows to her. ‘If you say it’s true dear lady then I have no choice but to accept it.’
‘What kind of food do you cook?’ Claude demands.
‘Whatever seems tasty,’ Matt says. ‘Mostly American but some Italian, some Jewish, and some African. It really depends what’s in season.’
‘So you don’t have some “ethical directive” then?’ Claude asks, and Linderman snorts.
‘We use free range where we can,’ Charlie says.
‘We make food, not political statements,’ Monica says firmly, ‘and definitely no meat is murder, animals are people too stuff.’
‘Well done my dear!’ Linderman says cheerfully.
‘Yeah. Well. Here’s your mystery ingredient,’ Claude says. He plonks a tub on the counter.
‘Maggots?’ Monica asks.
‘Bee larvae,’ Claude corrects her. He smiles at Matt. ‘Don’t worry, they’re in season.’
‘Excuse me!’ Charlie squeaks, and runs for the restroom.
‘Are they alive?’ Matt asks.
‘It’s the best way to keep them fresh,’ Linderman says sweetly.
Matt purses his lips. ‘Are these for all three courses?’
‘Just the dessert,’ Linderman promises.
‘That’s good, because otherwise we’d need more,’ Monica says sweetly.
Linderman smiles uneasily. ‘Here we have your budget. When the buzzer sounds as many of you as you like have an hour to go to a local store and buy ingredients in additions to anything you find in the kitchen.’
‘Okay,’ Matt turns to Monica. ‘Would you grab Charlie? We’ll have her look and see what’s here.’
‘I’m on it.’
‘Is that it?’ Claude asks.
‘For now, sure.’
‘How’re we going to do it?’ Charlie asks, deliberately rooting through cupboards so that she doesn’t have to look.
‘We could drown them,’ Matt says doubtfully.
‘Freeze ‘em,’ Monica says. ‘They won’t take much and it won’t take long to defrost them.’
‘It does seem more humane,’ Charlie agrees. ‘As long as I don’t have to do any of that.’
Matt gingerly puts half a dozen of the insects on a plate and puts into the freezer.
‘We’re not using all of them?’ Monica asks.
‘Sure but before we make a dessert out of them we need to know what they taste like.’
‘We don’t have enough time for that,’ Monica says firmly. She takes the plate out the freezer and dumps the insects into a glass of water.
‘I didn’t become a cook to kill things,’ Matt says wearily.
‘You were a cop. You’ve done far worse than this.’ Monica drains off the water and tips the larvae back onto the plate. ‘Bottoms up!’
‘Are you eating them? I can’t believe you’re eating them,’ Charlie says, glancing back over her shoulder. ‘What do they taste of?’
‘Nothing much,’ Monica says with a shrug. ‘That was kind of a let-down.’
‘Nothing is good,’ Matt says when he’s swallowed. ‘We’ll get something really sweet and marinade them in it.’
Charlie turns around. ‘There’s some coconut milk and vanilla essence. We could do a Thai style crème caramel maybe? There’s an Asian delicatessen a couple of streets away.’
Monica rolls up her sleeves. ‘How about I soak them in the coconut milk and vanilla while you’re out shopping? That’ll give them flavour. Then I’ll fry them and we can sprinkle them on top. It’ll give a nice crunch.’
‘Make a feature out of them. I like it,’ Matt says.
‘Just don’t let the judges chicken out by picking them off,’ Charlie says firmly. ‘They made us cook with bee larvae! I wanna see them squirm.’
The buzzer sounds loudly, making everyone jump.
‘What about the other courses?’ Charlie asks.
‘We’ll see what’s at the store. Maybe go for some kind of Asian fusion thing.’
‘Don’t just stand there, go!’ Monica snaps. ‘And don’t forget to buy some eggs, syrup, and oil!’
They rush to the elevator where Adam is already waiting and where Angela meets them.
‘You must be doing a great deal of shopping,’ Angela says archly. ‘I’d hardly think two of you were required.’
‘We like to discuss what we’re going to cook,’ Charlie says.
‘I’m not sure that I want to discuss cooking maggots,’ Adam says. ‘Mohinder’s all right, he’s had edible insects before. When they slapped the carton on the counter I thought I’d redecorate the walls.’
‘You have the rest of us at a disadvantage then,’ Angela says coldly.
‘Oh really? I hope so.’ Adam gives them a friendly smile. ‘All fair in love and war.’
As Angela marches into Dean and DeLuca, and Adam skips into the nearby supermarket, Matt and Charlie jog down a side street and into a small, Asian delicatessen.
‘Okay, so we need protein,’ Charlie says, staring around wildly. ‘Meat, or poultry, or fish…’
‘Chicken,’ Matt suggests; picking up a large packet of coconut flakes. ‘Can you see any panko bread?’
‘Oh, coconut crusted saffron chicken? That’s always a good one.’ Charlie takes the coconut flakes from him. ‘I’ll get the ingredients. You do the starter.’
‘Do I have to think of everything?’
‘Why not? I have to remember everything.’
Jogging back to the studio they almost bump into Adam stood staring at Angela as she marches across the road holding several bags.
‘Look at all those bags!’
‘I thought she went to Dean and DeLuca?’ Charlie asks.
Adam raises an eyebrow. ‘She did.’
‘Is there a sale on?’ Matt suggests.
‘No.’ Adam purses his lips. ‘She’s blown the budget.’
‘How could she when they only gave us what we’re allowed to spend?’ Charlie wonders.
‘Customer account maybe,’ Matt suggests.
‘We’ll see about this!’ Adam says, narrowing his eyes, and marches off.
‘What’re we going to do?’ Charlie wonders as they walk into the kitchen. ‘Do we tell?’
‘If we do we’ll end up looking really whiney. Nobody likes that. Maybe that Adam will rat her out instead.’
‘Oh good grief!’ Charlie says.
Matt follows her gaze. Over by their counter Monica is stood talking and flirting with Mohinder while her frying bee larvae go unattended.
‘Monica!’ Matt says, pushing her aside to take the pan off the fire. ‘He’s on the other team!’
‘In just about every meaning possible,’ Charlie adds.
‘We were just talking!’ she protests.
‘You were talking and he was deliberately distracting you,’ Charlie says, scowling at Mohinder.
‘I’ve just about had it with the chicanery going on here,’ Matt says sharply.
‘Chicanery! What an excellent choice of word,’ Mohinder laughs. ‘I was merely having a conversation.’
‘Like hell. Now push off before I feed you every damn bee larvae I can find in the place.’
‘He’s very aggressive, isn’t he?’ Mohinder says to Monica. ‘Possessive too.’
‘No he’s not, he just doesn’t like cheats!’ Charlie says, poking his chests. ‘They never prosper. If you can’t compete fairly then get out of our kitchen!’
Charlie closes her eyes for a moment and visualises not the recipe book, but the dozens of times she’s seen Sandra making shrimp and lemon-grass soup. Cookbooks are the cookery of the laboratory; the cool precision of perfect instrumentation, silence, and no distractions. Every cook knows that proper cookery, in a steamy kitchen and filled with bustling staff, is nothing like that. Proper cookery is the transmutation of impossible perfection into real food. Not precise, and not perfect, but a cacophony of scents that grab the imagination, a glorious jumble of flavours and textures that explode across the palate and stick to the ribs. Food needs to be beautiful, yes, but more than that it needs to dance across the senses.
Monica licks a spot of caramel from her hand. ‘This would be a pretty nice meal to serve sometime.’
‘It’s a bit heavy for the lunch time crowd,’ Matt says with a shrug.
‘People like soup and you could do a version of the chicken on a wrap.’
‘What about the crème caramel?’ Matt asks, smiling at her.
Monica grins. ‘I don’t think it’d work in a wrap.’
‘I wouldn’t put it past someone to try.’
‘Charlie said you saw that Petrelli woman carrying way more food from Dean and DeLuca than she could’ve afforded?’
‘There might’ve been a sale on,’ Matt says. ‘I don’t think there was but there’s not a lot we can do about it. Budget or not our food is still good. Throwing money at it wouldn’t change that.’
Monica laughs. ‘You know what Mohinder told me? They’re doing some chocolate thing for dessert. All they’re going to do is plonk the larvae on the plate beside it and let the judges dip them in if they want to.’
‘Seems a bit unambitious.’
She shrugs. ‘He said they weren’t going to abandon their ethics just to win a competition. If the judges want to drown the things in chocolate dip then that’s on their heads.’
Matt pulls a face. ‘That’s a disgusting image.’
The buzzer sounds and the judges walk into the kitchen.
‘Ladies and gentlemen; we are ready for your starters. Please finish what you’re doing and bring the dish to the centre table.’
Adam sallies forth with wild mushroom tartlets, while Peter wanders over holding a plate of perfect duck liver and marmalade canapés. Linderman looks around and smiles as Charlie reluctantly drags herself over.
One by one the dishes are tasted and scored:
The Purple Passion Wagon: 3/5
Petrelli Family Cuisine: 4/5
Meal Machine: 4/5
‘Darn it,’ Charlie moans.
‘It’s only the first round,’ Matt says gently, ‘and four out of five is pretty damn good.’
‘They’re still damn cheaters and it’s not fair we’re drawing with them,’ Monica says, scowling.
‘There’s nothing we can do about that.’
‘Looks like the Passion Wagon guys feel the same way,’ Charlie says, tugging at Monica’s sleeve. ‘While the Petrellis were arguing he just put a handful of something in one of their pans! I think maybe it was salt.’
They hastily taste their dishes. Then Matt picks up one of the larvae, sighs, and eats it.
‘Looks like we’re okay so far.’
‘Yeah, so far,’ Charlie snorts.
‘Why’re we the only people playing fair?’ Monica asks.
‘Because we’re better than that,’ Charlie says. ‘Or idiots. I’m not sure which.’
‘The hell with that.’ Matt waves a hand. ‘You should go and tell them what you saw.’
‘I’m not doing that!’
‘I don’t see why we should help them out, they’re cheating,’ Monica says severely.
‘Their food is not going to be any less ruined for telling them,’ Matt says. ‘They don’t have time to make something else.’
‘So why tell then?’ Charlie asks. ‘They’ll just end up real and getting their own back by… oh, I just answered my own question.’
Monica smacks Matt on the arm. ‘Man! You’re evil!’
‘What?’ he asks innocently. ‘It’s the right and decent thing to do.’
‘It most certainly is not!’
‘Charlie, I’m not saying you should lie. Go over there and tell them the truth.’
She folds her arms. ‘This sees real dubious ethically.’
‘Is not telling them better ethically?’ Monica asks.
‘Well it won’t start them trying to sabotage Mohinder and Adam!’
Matt rolls his eyes. ‘Mohinder and Adam sabotaged them.’
‘They deserved it!’
‘Look,’ says Monica, ‘if you don’t tell them what’s to stop the Passion Wagon crew trying the same stuff with us next? Let them get all mad at each other and forget about us. It’s self-defence.’
‘Self-defence in advance.’
Charlie lets out a huff of breath. ‘Okay, fine. I’ll tell the Petrellis, geez.’
‘Are we a bad influence on her?’ Monica wonders as Charlie tentatively approaches Nathan.
‘I’m not. I’m too nice. You maybe.’
Monica smacks his arm. ‘Smart ass. I’m going to tell Sandra this whole thing was all your fault.’
Charlie walks back looking a little pink in the face. As she takes her place at the counter they see Nathan taste the sauce, and then spit it into the sink.
‘Okay?’
‘I don’t think he believed me,’ she says sheepishly.
‘I think he does now,’ Monica says, watching the red faced Angela pouring the sauce down the sink.
‘Do you think they’ll have time to make more?’ Charlie wonders.
The buzzer sounds.
‘Oy, you lot, same as before but main course,’ Claude announces. ‘Come on, we’re not waiting here all day.’
This time Mohinder struts over to the judges with squash ravioli with crunchy crumbs while Nathan stalks over holding a dry looking Tonnarelli with urchin eggs.
‘Wow, they really didn’t have time to make more,’ Charlie whispers to Monica.
Matt stands a little way back, holding his coconut encrusted saffron chicken, and out of the way of Mohinder and Nathan as they glare hot, violent deaths at each other.
‘Excellent main,’ Linderman says to Mohinder. ‘Absolutely delicious.’
‘What the hell happened to your sauce?’ Claude asks Nathan.
‘We had some salt issues.’
‘Oh dear me, no, that won’t do at all Mr Petrelli,’ Linderman says shaking his head. ‘This coconut encrusted chicken, on the other hand, looks delicious.’ He takes a bite and chews it slowly. ‘Absolutely gorgeous.’
Purple Passion Wagon: 4/5
Petrelli Family Cuisine: 2/5
Meal Machine: 5/5
‘We’re in the lead!’ Charlie cheers.
‘Hush it; I don’t want anyone throwing salt in my crème caramel!’
‘Looks like they have other things on their mind,’ Matt remarks.
Angela, carrying a bowl of water, slips and somehow rather than merely dropping the bowl manages to send it flying halfway across the room: where it hits Adam squarely in the chest and knocks him over.
‘Mom!’ Peter calls, running over to her.
Mohinder dives to help Adam and, in the ensuing chaos, Nathan casually steals their box of bee larvae.
‘Whoa, for an old lady Mrs Petrelli has a really good arm,’ Monica laughs.
‘She could’ve done him some real damage with that bowl!’ Charlie protests, as Adam stands up rubbing his chest.
‘He’s okay,’ Matt says, patting her should. ‘See Red? He’s fine. I don’t even think the water was hot.’
‘Well it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t told them about the salt!’
‘You don’t know they wouldn’t have worked it out,’ Matt says mildly. ‘They’re not idiots.’
‘Besides it wouldn’t have happened if Adam hadn’t ruined their sauce,’ Monica says, ‘and that wouldn’t have happened if the Petrellis hadn’t cheated on the budget.’ She waves her hand. ‘They brought it all on themselves.’
Charlie shrugs. ‘I still feel guilty.’
‘Have some left over caramel. You’ll feel better,’ Matt suggests.
‘There’s no bee larvae in his, is there?’ Charlie asks suspiciously.
‘Not yet!’
The buzzer sounds but Mohinder and Adam continue their frantic search of their area.
‘Gentlemen, please,’ Linderman prompts.
The two men look at each other and then Mohinder kisses Adam on the cheek before marching over.
‘They’ve stolen our bee larvae,’ Mohinder accuses, nodding at Angela, who merely smiles sweetly.
Claude sighs. ‘You ‘aven’t got your bee larvae.’
‘No, they took it after she hurled a bowl of water at my partner.’
‘They put salt in our sauce!’ Peter calls from their counter.
‘We’ll have to penalise your dish if it doesn’t include the compulsory surprise ingredient,’ Linderman says, shaking his head.
Mohinder grits his teeth and places his chocolate fondue on the table.
‘Not terribly inventive,’ Linderman says sadly. He dips the silver spoon into the fondue and tastes the chocolate sauce. ‘Unfortunate since the fondue is very good.’
‘What’ve you got then, ice cream?’ Claude demands.
‘Affogato,’ Angela says icily. ‘Espresso and ice cream with chocolate coated bee larvae.’
‘Good use of the bee larvae!’ Linderman says jovially. He spoons some of the mixture of hot espresso and melting ice cream into his mouth. ‘Mmm, very nice.’
‘Not exactly adventurous though,’ Claude grumbles. ‘Next.’
Monica places her crème caramel on the table. ‘Thai style crème caramel with bee larvae crunch topping.’
‘These fried?’ Claude asks.
‘Yes, after we soaked them in vanilla and caramel.’
‘They’re burnt.’
Monica forces a smile. ‘I’m not very experienced with cooking insects.’
‘Never mind my dear,’ Linderman says, winking at her.
‘All right you lot, buzz off while we work out the scores.’
‘I feel like such an ass,’ Monica sighs as she slumps back over to Matt and Charlie.
‘Don’t feel like an ass!’ Charlie says, throwing her arms around Monica. ‘I bet your dessert was gorgeous!’
‘It’ll be fine,’ Matt promises. ‘You did a great job.’
‘I’ll never forgive myself if we lose because of me,’ she says, shaking her head.
Matt slings an arm around her shoulders. ‘Chin up and brave heart, Monica.’
Everyone gathers in the centre of the room as Linderman and Claude wait.
‘Firstly we would like to thank you for all for competing.’ Linderman straightens his tie. ‘Now before we move on we have the scores for the desserts.’
Claude clears his throat. ‘Purple Passion Wagon: two points. Petrelli Family Cuisine: four points. Meal Machine: three points.’
Monica slumps against Matt but Charlie grins at her and shakes her head.
‘This brings the totals for the entire competition to Meal Machine: twelve points; Petrelli Family Cuisine: ten points, and The Purple Passion Wagon: nine points.’
‘Whoo!’ Charlie cheers.
‘However…’ Linderman says and everyone falls silent. ‘It has come to our attention that Petrelli Family Cuisine did not stay within their budget. Therefore we are docking them three points. The new scores are: Meal Machine: twelve points; Petrelli Family Cuisine: seven points, and The Purple Passion Wagon: nine points. Therefore the Meal Machine wins with Purple Passion Wagon in second place.’
‘Yes!’ Monica punches the air.
‘I knew you could do it,’ Sandra says, grinning as she pushes Matt down onto the bed.
‘Wasn’t just me,’ he says, tugging off her clothes.
‘I’m not going to have my wicked way with either of the girls,’ she says, straddling. ‘But you’re welcome to imagine I am, as long as you don’t call out their name.’
The End
Pairing: Matt/Sandra, Mohinder/Adam
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Food porn?
Word Count: 6200 approximately
Authors Note: With thanks to
jaune_chat for the prompt Matt is a great cook, and runs a popular food truck with a few friends. They end up getting into a contest to win cash and bragging rights (a la The Great Food Truck Race or Top Chef or something), and some of the other contestants are playing dirty. Time to set things right (by just out-cooking them, sticking it to them, or however you want to play it)!The pan sizzles, adding its refrain to the percussive beat of dough being kneaded, the staccato pulse of the potatoes being chopped and the low hum of the coffee pot.
Matt wraps up a pork confit with apple cider mousse sandwich and trades it for payment with his salivating customer. Matt would be the first to admit that his food is not fast: not quickly prepared and not to be eaten quickly. Matt makes food to be savoured. Enjoyed. Lingered over. But he’s not an idiot and in exchange for an upfront credit card payment he’ll happily have pre-ordered food ready for pickup from his van within a fifteen minute timeslot. No sooner. No later. Cooking demands the precision of chemistry and the passion of art.
For those willing to wait, the LA Meal Machine aims to have requested food ready within thirty minutes of the order. Pre-prepared yes; precooked never.
‘Matt, people are starting to whine they can’t yet order for tomorrow,’ Sandra says, holding the phone pressed against her shoulder.
Matt glances at the clock and then shakes his head. ‘Come on Sandra, it isn’t even half twelve yet.’
‘I know, Sugar, I’m just passing on what they’re giving me.’
Matt gestures and she presses the phone to his ear. ‘This is Matt. We take orders from four in the afternoon until eleven thirty the following morning. I appreciate that you know what you want to eat tomorrow, Sir, but we’re not taking telephone orders right now. Because this is our busiest time and I have thirty walkbys waiting for service. If you want to order something for tomorrow then call back at four. If you want something for today then you’ll have to come to the truck and take your chances. No, Sir, we’ll be in Hollywood tomorrow. Same to you, Sir.’
Sandra thumbs the phone off and tucks it into her pocket. ‘He get cute with you?’
‘Chalk up another “f off and die” on the board,’ Matt says cheerily.
‘Folks get so angry about food,’ Charlie says, shaking her head.
‘If we had another truck we could cover a lot more ground,’ Sandra says. ‘Maybe have one truck do pre-orders only and the other do walkbys, that way we could get away without another full time chef just a couple of assistants.’
Matt nods. ‘If I had a spare fifty thousand dollars lying around then we could do that.’ He kisses Sandra on the cheek. ‘Not happening anytime soon.’
‘You know, first prize for The Great Van Cook Off is a hundred thousand dollars,’ Charlie says, blending ingredients together without a thought or sight of a recipe. She glances over at Matt and grins. ‘It’s that new show? I think we’d have a real good shot.’
‘Those kind of shows are all about gourmet food,’ Matt says mildly.
‘Honey, you’re cooking cranberry and goat’s cheese fritter that you’re going to serve with a date and walnut salad,’ Sandra points out. ‘It’s not exactly a corn dog now is it?’
‘We’d lose a whole day’s takings,’ Matt protests.
‘It’ll be worth it if we win!’
‘What if we don’t?
Sandra shrugs. ‘Then we’ll go out on a Sunday to West Hollywood and pick up all that tourist money to make up the takings. At least we’ll have tried and the publicity can’t hurt.’
‘What’ve we got to lose?’ Charlie asks brightly.
‘Exactly,’ Sandra says triumphantly. ‘Oh, and if you can you should totally take Monica.’
Matt raises his eyebrows. ‘So now you’ve strong armed me into this idea you don’t want to come along?’
Sandra puts her hands on her hips. ‘Matt, I am old enough and ugly enough to admit that Monica would be more useful than me. Technique is sometimes an issue with these competitions and you know she never learns bad habits. You show her a thing once the right way and she’ll do it that way forever more.’
‘A likely story. Where’re you going?’
‘To find out how to sign us up,’ she says sweetly. ‘Before you change your mind.’
‘You could be famous,’ Gretchen says leaning forward across the table. ‘You could launch like… a range of sauces or have your own sandwich!’
‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ Matt says carefully.
‘A sandwich?’ Claire laughs.
‘If your stepdad is famous he can have a sandwich,’ Gretchen argues.
‘Duh, he has his own mobile restaurant he can call as many sandwiches after himself as he likes.’
Lyle sniggers to himself. ‘Maybe he can have a Matt patty.’
‘That’s real cute Lyle,’ Sandra says, ‘just like it was real cute the first six times you thought of funny things that Matt could call the sandwiches.’
‘I don’t even know that we’re going to get on the show,’ Matt says, twirling spaghetti around his fork. ‘We applied but, you know, there’s no reason to think we’ll get picked up for it.’
Sandra licks a speck of tomato source from her lips. ‘Nothing but the fact that we’re one of the best vans around and one of the most popular too.’
Matt pinks a little. ‘I wish I had your faith.’
Sandra puts her hand over his. ‘I wish you did too! But until you do I’ll just have faith for both of us.’
‘Urgh get a room you guys,’ Lyle groans.
‘Oh shush you!’ Sandra says, narrowing her eyes.
‘The more you tease your mom and Claire the more they’re going to rip on you when you bring someone home,’ Matt says to Lyle.
Claire snorts. ‘Like anyone would ever date Lyle.’
‘I’m sure that they’re someone for everyone,’ Gretchen says, flicking her hair behind her ear. ‘Everyone has their soul mate,’ she says, gripping Claire’s hand.
‘Gee out of all the people in whole world I better hope my soul mate is coincidentally somewhere near where I live,’ Lyle says rolling his eyes. ‘Ow! Claire kicked me!’
‘He deserved it!’
‘Oh Good Lord,’ Sandra says, covering her eyes. ‘Sometimes I wonder how I ended up with two teenagers who still act like six year olds.’
The soup glugs as Matt pours it carefully into the blender.
‘Is the funky soup still on?’ Elle calls through the window.
‘We don’t serve “funky” soup,’ Matt retorts. ‘But we have spicy tomato and blue cheese soup. Got some nice crusty bread to eat with it.’
‘Well dish me up some of that and heavy on the cheese,’ she says leaning on the counter. ‘Mmm mmm gotta love that blue cheese. I like it best when it’s all runny.’
‘It’s got the perfect amount of blue cheese in it.’
‘I want more. More, more, more!’ Elle pounds her hands on the counter.
Sandra smacks her hands with a spoon. ‘Hands off the counter, Cuddles. If you’re not staff and you’re not food, you’ve got no business being there.’
‘I could be food,’ Elle says with a leer. ‘I bet I taste awesome.’
‘No thanks, I don’t like too many artificial additives.’
Matt walks over and carefully puts a carton on the counter. Inside there is a waxed soup bowl full of soup and a selection of breads. ‘Here’s your lunch, Elle.’
‘Did you put some extra cheese in there just for me?’ she asks sweetly.
‘No I didn’t,’ he replies in his own sugary, sweet voice.
Sandra walks away to answer her phone as Elle opens the soup and takes a sip.
‘When’re you going to give me the nod to come in there and spice things up with you both?’ Elle asks as she sips her soup.
‘Seasoning only works in small doses,’ Matt says, shaking his head although he smiles at her. ‘You’d be too much spice for us.’
‘Aw you’re no fun.’
Sandra walks back holding the phone against her chest. Matt slips an arm around her waist and pulls her closer.
‘Are you okay? You’re looking a little pink.’
‘That was “The Great Van Cook off”,’ she says, and Matt notices that her eyes are sparkling, ‘we’ve been accepted in the competition and we start Tuesday.’
‘Whoo hoo!’ Elle cheers. ‘What does that mean?’
‘It means you’ll have to get your lunch somewhere else on Tuesday,’ Matt says.
Matt’s not quite sure what he expected when they set out for the studio but the makeup and costumes certainly weren’t it.
‘We’re thinking maybe something in a lumberjack check shirt,’ says Candace the wardrobe woman says holding one up against herself, ‘and some nice corduroy trousers.’
‘I thought this was a cookery show?’ Matt asks.
‘Absolutely, so we’re thinking of a working class/ blue collar theme for your team. Sort of “Roseanne” type of look for you.’
Matt folds his arms. ‘What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?’
‘It isn’t the image that we’re looking for. See we have you, and the English guys, and the upper class Italian-American family.’ She smiles. ‘Image is vital in television.’
‘Yeah? I can see that.’
Candace holds the shirt out to him. ‘Okay then, try that on.’
Matt shakes his head. ‘No. I appreciate your point, but we’re not actors or TV personalities, we’re just people. I’m not going to embarrass myself and I’m not going to embarrass my crew by dressing up like some kind of parodies of whatever you think “blue collar” is.’
Candace rolls her eyes and throws down the shirt. ‘Geez what is it with you people! The English won’t wear frilly shirts, the Italians won’t wear suits, and you won’t wear check shirts!’
‘Nobody can cook in suits!’
‘It’s television!’ Candace wails. ‘How it looks is the most important thing.’
‘Yeah, well, it’s also cooking. If people set themselves on fire then it’ll be a whole different TV show.’
‘Can you believe they tried to make me wear a little leather mini-skirt!’ Charlie demands as Matt joins the rest in the makeup trailer.
‘At least they didn’t try to put you in a leopard print jumpsuit,’ Monica says. ‘As if the leopard print wasn’t bad enough it was a jumpsuit. Do I look like I’d wear one of those dumb ass things to you?’
Matt is ushered into a seat next to them. ‘It’s not really fair to ask a married man to think about attractive young women in mini-skirts and jumpsuits.’
‘Oh you,’ Charlie laughs.
‘I’m so nervous,’ Monica says quietly.
‘You’ll be awesome,’ Matt promises. ‘Have you seen anything of the other teams?’
Monica answers while Charlie and her makeup artist are bewailing the lack of a foundation that will suit her skin colour.
‘I was in the wardrobe department with a couple of guys. One of them was pretty cute but the other one was absolutely drop dead gorgeous,’ she says with a sigh. ‘He’s like some kind of statue brought to life.’
‘English or Italian-American?’ Matt asks.
‘They were both English,’ she says. ‘They were refusing to wear these shirts with ruffles and all slashed up. It was kind of a shame. I think they’d have looked hot.’
Matt grins at her. ‘They’d have probably thought the same about the mini-skirt and the jumpsuit.’
Monica laughs and shakes her head. ‘Nobody looks hot in a jumpsuit. Nobody!’
‘I’m really starting to worry about this show,’ Matt says. ‘If they start off putting us in themed costumes then where will we end?’
‘There’s a lot of cooking shows,’ Monica says with a shrug. ‘I guess they figured that they’d try some kind of gimmick for it.’
‘Beyond making us use some surprise ingredient in the dessert course and dashing round a grocers to buy supplies in a great panicked rush?’
‘All cooking shows do those kinds of things. They like to up the ante.’
The kitchen they’ll be working in reminds Matt of the first restaurant he ever bussed in. It’s narrow, cramped, and once they start cooking it threatens to become extremely hot. Each of the teams is shown to a workspace and assigned a couple of cupboards.
At this point one of the other teams starts to protest.
‘Our cupboard doesn’t lock.’
‘Are those the Italians?’ Charlie whispers to Matt.
‘I guess so.’
The Italian-American team comprise of two sons and their mother. The younger son is the one complaining about the lack of a lock while the eldest son is looking around the kitchen thoughtfully.
‘None of them lock, darling,’ the blond, blue-eyed Englishman calls over. ‘We’ll have to use an honour system.’
Charlie peers at the Englishmen, which she doesn’t find a chore.
‘Aren’t they the guys from the “Purple Passion Wagon”, Matt? The van that does all the LGBT events?’
‘Are you sure?’ Monica asks. ‘I’m pretty sure they’re English, not gay. I know English guys can be a little fruity but…’
Charlie shakes her head. ‘I’m pretty sure they’re English and gay.’
‘Damn. What do you think, Matt?’
Matt shrugs and leans back against the counter. ‘I don’t know about anything else but they definitely run the Passion Wagon. They do all that organic and low fat stuff.’
‘Huh, then we don’t have to worry about them,’ Monica says cheerily.
‘How do you figure?’
‘All that low fat, vegan, carb free stuff tastes terrible!’
‘Nobody said vegan,’ Charlie points out.
‘No but you know that’s what they cook. Organic is just gateway cooking to vegan.’
Matt chuckles. ‘Gateway cooking?’
‘You know I’m right.’ Monica stops abruptly. ‘Hi there.’
The tall, dark, and handsome man smiles. ‘Hello again.’ He nods at Matt and Charlie. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Mohinder. My partner, Adam, and I run the Passion Wagon. I thought I’d come over and scout out the opposition.’
‘Charlie Andrews, hello.’
‘Matt Parkman. Both our vans covered the gay pride march this year. We couldn’t keep up with the demand.’
Mohinder’s eyes glitter. ‘I’m afraid that bears don’t always know what’s good for them. Twinks tend to be much more sensible in their diet.’
Matt’s smile is friendly but steely. ‘I’m sure that they can get what’s good for them at home. Eating out is an indulgence and people should be allowed an indulgence now and then if they want.’
‘Even if it’s bad for them?’
‘It’s not an indulgence if it’s not.’
Mohinder’s gaze flicks over Matt, drinking him in. ‘I assume you’re not wearing the costume they picked out? Your ensemble looks rather too subtle. I imagine they tried to dress you like a biker?’
‘A lumberjack, more or less.’
‘They tried to get me into a leather mini-skirt!’
‘You’ve doubtless got the legs,’ Mohinder says thoughtfully, looking at Charlie, ‘but not the slutty persona. I’d put you in a nice sundress, or perhaps some mid-thigh length denim shorts. Cute but sexy.’
‘Are you a cook or a fashion designer?’ Matt asks.
‘I’m a chef. That doesn’t mean that I can’t have an eye for beauty.’
‘Well I’m a cook,’ Matt says, ‘and I have an eye for someone trying some kind of mind games right now. So shoo, okay?’
‘If you intend telling the Petrellis to “shoo” at any point please let me know,’ Mohinder says. ‘I love to see the look on Angela Petrelli’s face.’
‘Why, you don’t like her?’ Charlie asks.
Mohinder shrugs. ‘I don’t dislike her. I merely note that there is no gossip about our business associates disappearing, or your business associates vanishing, but there is about hers evaporating into thin air.’
‘Maybe they ate the food,’ Charlie says gloomily. ‘All that cream and butter has to take a toll.’
‘Maybe,’ Matt says before turning to Mohinder. ‘Do I have to put you over my shoulder and carry you back?’
‘Can I have a raincheck? I’ve just eaten. I do love an alpha male though.’ Mohinder nods to Charlie and Monica. ‘Ladies,’ he says, and walks back to his partner.
‘I said he was gorgeous,’ Monica sighs.
‘Well I said he was gay,’ Charlie points out. ‘You don’t want a pretty one, Monica. You get a pretty one and they don’t care what you look like, only what they look like. They’re always stealing your hairspray and cheating on you with your friends, and then you’re supposed to let it go because they’re so gosh darn cute!’
Monica and Matt exchange a look.
‘Are we still talking about me?’ Monica asks.
‘Yes, what you want is a nice guy who doesn’t realise how handsome he is. Like Matt! But not Matt because I bet Sandra can punch really hard.’
‘Sandra’s not going to be hitting anyone,’ Matt says firmly.
‘I thought I was nervous,’ Monica laughs. ‘Wow Charlie, you can really babble when the mood strikes you.’
‘Don’t let me talk on camera, I’ll make sure a fool of myself,’ she says, rubbing her forehead.
‘Everyone is going to make fools of themselves,’ Matt says gravely. ‘But we didn’t put on the costumes so we’re already less foolish than we might otherwise have been.’
‘Oh gosh, here comes one of the mobsters.’
‘At least he’s cute,’ Monica says, and gives him a bright smile as he approaches. ‘Hi! I’m Monica.’
‘Hey, I’m Peter. That’s my bother Nathan and our mom, Angela,’ Peter says tucking his hands into his pockets. ‘So you’re the Meal Machine? That’s cool. Everyone says you’re the guys to beat. In the competition! Not the guys to beat up. Obviously I don’t mean that.’ Peter smiles. ‘I’m not always the greatest at explaining myself.’
Monica twines a lock of hair around her finger. ‘That’s okay.’
‘I think we’ve seen your van around,’ Peter says. ‘We do a lot of studios and that like.’
‘We move around,’ Matt says. ‘So yours is a family business?’
‘Yeah, well, I help out but its mom’s baby. She has a way of getting people to run around for her thought.’
‘You must be a good son,’ Monica says sweetly.
‘You think? I try. Nathan is too busy but she strong armed him into coming today.’
Matt leans forward. ‘Sorry, are you saying that you and your brother don’t normally work in the van?’
Peter laughs and shakes his head. ‘Does my mom look like someone who cooks? She has a catering team. I guess she figured it would be better publicity to keep up the family business thing by us coming here.’
‘Gosh, it’s so great you guys look after your mom,’ Charlie says in the sudden silence.
‘Yeah. It’s amazing. You should probably go get back to her,’ Matt says, flapping him away.
‘Monica Dawson, I am shocked!’ Charlie says as soon as Peter is out of hearing distance.
‘Why?’
‘Because you practically threw yourself at that boy!’
Monica raises her eyebrows. ‘Charlie, it’s the twenty-first century and I can throw myself at boys if I want. We don’t have to wait for guys to make the first move anymore.’
‘Well… what would your momma say?’
‘She’d say I should’ve found out if he had a girlfriend.’
‘I hope she’d tell you to wait until after the competition,’ Matt says mildly. ‘Maybe he’s flirting to distract you. I hear men can do that now. This is the twenty-first century.’
Charlie folds her arms over her chest. ‘It seems like they’re taking an awful risk with the three of them coming when they don’t seem to have much experience.’
‘He says they don’t,’ Matt says with a shrug. ‘I’ll believe it when I see them burning water.’
The judges stalk about the kitchen, handing out instructions, ingredients, and caustic comments.
‘My goodness,’ Daniel Linderman says, looking at the Meal Machine team, ‘I was under the impression you were a troupe of pals.’
‘That’s right,’ Matt says, once he’s translated this in his head.
‘Really? Your friends include two beautiful, if somewhat overdressed, young women?’
Monica feels the weight of a frying pan in her hand.
‘I have lots of friends,’ Matt says with a shrug.
‘But you brought the two beautiful women.’
‘They’re the best cooks.’
‘Excuse me?’ Monica says. ‘Did you maybe consider that we brought him?’
Linderman bows to her. ‘If you say it’s true dear lady then I have no choice but to accept it.’
‘What kind of food do you cook?’ Claude demands.
‘Whatever seems tasty,’ Matt says. ‘Mostly American but some Italian, some Jewish, and some African. It really depends what’s in season.’
‘So you don’t have some “ethical directive” then?’ Claude asks, and Linderman snorts.
‘We use free range where we can,’ Charlie says.
‘We make food, not political statements,’ Monica says firmly, ‘and definitely no meat is murder, animals are people too stuff.’
‘Well done my dear!’ Linderman says cheerfully.
‘Yeah. Well. Here’s your mystery ingredient,’ Claude says. He plonks a tub on the counter.
‘Maggots?’ Monica asks.
‘Bee larvae,’ Claude corrects her. He smiles at Matt. ‘Don’t worry, they’re in season.’
‘Excuse me!’ Charlie squeaks, and runs for the restroom.
‘Are they alive?’ Matt asks.
‘It’s the best way to keep them fresh,’ Linderman says sweetly.
Matt purses his lips. ‘Are these for all three courses?’
‘Just the dessert,’ Linderman promises.
‘That’s good, because otherwise we’d need more,’ Monica says sweetly.
Linderman smiles uneasily. ‘Here we have your budget. When the buzzer sounds as many of you as you like have an hour to go to a local store and buy ingredients in additions to anything you find in the kitchen.’
‘Okay,’ Matt turns to Monica. ‘Would you grab Charlie? We’ll have her look and see what’s here.’
‘I’m on it.’
‘Is that it?’ Claude asks.
‘For now, sure.’
‘How’re we going to do it?’ Charlie asks, deliberately rooting through cupboards so that she doesn’t have to look.
‘We could drown them,’ Matt says doubtfully.
‘Freeze ‘em,’ Monica says. ‘They won’t take much and it won’t take long to defrost them.’
‘It does seem more humane,’ Charlie agrees. ‘As long as I don’t have to do any of that.’
Matt gingerly puts half a dozen of the insects on a plate and puts into the freezer.
‘We’re not using all of them?’ Monica asks.
‘Sure but before we make a dessert out of them we need to know what they taste like.’
‘We don’t have enough time for that,’ Monica says firmly. She takes the plate out the freezer and dumps the insects into a glass of water.
‘I didn’t become a cook to kill things,’ Matt says wearily.
‘You were a cop. You’ve done far worse than this.’ Monica drains off the water and tips the larvae back onto the plate. ‘Bottoms up!’
‘Are you eating them? I can’t believe you’re eating them,’ Charlie says, glancing back over her shoulder. ‘What do they taste of?’
‘Nothing much,’ Monica says with a shrug. ‘That was kind of a let-down.’
‘Nothing is good,’ Matt says when he’s swallowed. ‘We’ll get something really sweet and marinade them in it.’
Charlie turns around. ‘There’s some coconut milk and vanilla essence. We could do a Thai style crème caramel maybe? There’s an Asian delicatessen a couple of streets away.’
Monica rolls up her sleeves. ‘How about I soak them in the coconut milk and vanilla while you’re out shopping? That’ll give them flavour. Then I’ll fry them and we can sprinkle them on top. It’ll give a nice crunch.’
‘Make a feature out of them. I like it,’ Matt says.
‘Just don’t let the judges chicken out by picking them off,’ Charlie says firmly. ‘They made us cook with bee larvae! I wanna see them squirm.’
The buzzer sounds loudly, making everyone jump.
‘What about the other courses?’ Charlie asks.
‘We’ll see what’s at the store. Maybe go for some kind of Asian fusion thing.’
‘Don’t just stand there, go!’ Monica snaps. ‘And don’t forget to buy some eggs, syrup, and oil!’
They rush to the elevator where Adam is already waiting and where Angela meets them.
‘You must be doing a great deal of shopping,’ Angela says archly. ‘I’d hardly think two of you were required.’
‘We like to discuss what we’re going to cook,’ Charlie says.
‘I’m not sure that I want to discuss cooking maggots,’ Adam says. ‘Mohinder’s all right, he’s had edible insects before. When they slapped the carton on the counter I thought I’d redecorate the walls.’
‘You have the rest of us at a disadvantage then,’ Angela says coldly.
‘Oh really? I hope so.’ Adam gives them a friendly smile. ‘All fair in love and war.’
As Angela marches into Dean and DeLuca, and Adam skips into the nearby supermarket, Matt and Charlie jog down a side street and into a small, Asian delicatessen.
‘Okay, so we need protein,’ Charlie says, staring around wildly. ‘Meat, or poultry, or fish…’
‘Chicken,’ Matt suggests; picking up a large packet of coconut flakes. ‘Can you see any panko bread?’
‘Oh, coconut crusted saffron chicken? That’s always a good one.’ Charlie takes the coconut flakes from him. ‘I’ll get the ingredients. You do the starter.’
‘Do I have to think of everything?’
‘Why not? I have to remember everything.’
Jogging back to the studio they almost bump into Adam stood staring at Angela as she marches across the road holding several bags.
‘Look at all those bags!’
‘I thought she went to Dean and DeLuca?’ Charlie asks.
Adam raises an eyebrow. ‘She did.’
‘Is there a sale on?’ Matt suggests.
‘No.’ Adam purses his lips. ‘She’s blown the budget.’
‘How could she when they only gave us what we’re allowed to spend?’ Charlie wonders.
‘Customer account maybe,’ Matt suggests.
‘We’ll see about this!’ Adam says, narrowing his eyes, and marches off.
‘What’re we going to do?’ Charlie wonders as they walk into the kitchen. ‘Do we tell?’
‘If we do we’ll end up looking really whiney. Nobody likes that. Maybe that Adam will rat her out instead.’
‘Oh good grief!’ Charlie says.
Matt follows her gaze. Over by their counter Monica is stood talking and flirting with Mohinder while her frying bee larvae go unattended.
‘Monica!’ Matt says, pushing her aside to take the pan off the fire. ‘He’s on the other team!’
‘In just about every meaning possible,’ Charlie adds.
‘We were just talking!’ she protests.
‘You were talking and he was deliberately distracting you,’ Charlie says, scowling at Mohinder.
‘I’ve just about had it with the chicanery going on here,’ Matt says sharply.
‘Chicanery! What an excellent choice of word,’ Mohinder laughs. ‘I was merely having a conversation.’
‘Like hell. Now push off before I feed you every damn bee larvae I can find in the place.’
‘He’s very aggressive, isn’t he?’ Mohinder says to Monica. ‘Possessive too.’
‘No he’s not, he just doesn’t like cheats!’ Charlie says, poking his chests. ‘They never prosper. If you can’t compete fairly then get out of our kitchen!’
Charlie closes her eyes for a moment and visualises not the recipe book, but the dozens of times she’s seen Sandra making shrimp and lemon-grass soup. Cookbooks are the cookery of the laboratory; the cool precision of perfect instrumentation, silence, and no distractions. Every cook knows that proper cookery, in a steamy kitchen and filled with bustling staff, is nothing like that. Proper cookery is the transmutation of impossible perfection into real food. Not precise, and not perfect, but a cacophony of scents that grab the imagination, a glorious jumble of flavours and textures that explode across the palate and stick to the ribs. Food needs to be beautiful, yes, but more than that it needs to dance across the senses.
Monica licks a spot of caramel from her hand. ‘This would be a pretty nice meal to serve sometime.’
‘It’s a bit heavy for the lunch time crowd,’ Matt says with a shrug.
‘People like soup and you could do a version of the chicken on a wrap.’
‘What about the crème caramel?’ Matt asks, smiling at her.
Monica grins. ‘I don’t think it’d work in a wrap.’
‘I wouldn’t put it past someone to try.’
‘Charlie said you saw that Petrelli woman carrying way more food from Dean and DeLuca than she could’ve afforded?’
‘There might’ve been a sale on,’ Matt says. ‘I don’t think there was but there’s not a lot we can do about it. Budget or not our food is still good. Throwing money at it wouldn’t change that.’
Monica laughs. ‘You know what Mohinder told me? They’re doing some chocolate thing for dessert. All they’re going to do is plonk the larvae on the plate beside it and let the judges dip them in if they want to.’
‘Seems a bit unambitious.’
She shrugs. ‘He said they weren’t going to abandon their ethics just to win a competition. If the judges want to drown the things in chocolate dip then that’s on their heads.’
Matt pulls a face. ‘That’s a disgusting image.’
The buzzer sounds and the judges walk into the kitchen.
‘Ladies and gentlemen; we are ready for your starters. Please finish what you’re doing and bring the dish to the centre table.’
Adam sallies forth with wild mushroom tartlets, while Peter wanders over holding a plate of perfect duck liver and marmalade canapés. Linderman looks around and smiles as Charlie reluctantly drags herself over.
One by one the dishes are tasted and scored:
The Purple Passion Wagon: 3/5
Petrelli Family Cuisine: 4/5
Meal Machine: 4/5
‘Darn it,’ Charlie moans.
‘It’s only the first round,’ Matt says gently, ‘and four out of five is pretty damn good.’
‘They’re still damn cheaters and it’s not fair we’re drawing with them,’ Monica says, scowling.
‘There’s nothing we can do about that.’
‘Looks like the Passion Wagon guys feel the same way,’ Charlie says, tugging at Monica’s sleeve. ‘While the Petrellis were arguing he just put a handful of something in one of their pans! I think maybe it was salt.’
They hastily taste their dishes. Then Matt picks up one of the larvae, sighs, and eats it.
‘Looks like we’re okay so far.’
‘Yeah, so far,’ Charlie snorts.
‘Why’re we the only people playing fair?’ Monica asks.
‘Because we’re better than that,’ Charlie says. ‘Or idiots. I’m not sure which.’
‘The hell with that.’ Matt waves a hand. ‘You should go and tell them what you saw.’
‘I’m not doing that!’
‘I don’t see why we should help them out, they’re cheating,’ Monica says severely.
‘Their food is not going to be any less ruined for telling them,’ Matt says. ‘They don’t have time to make something else.’
‘So why tell then?’ Charlie asks. ‘They’ll just end up real and getting their own back by… oh, I just answered my own question.’
Monica smacks Matt on the arm. ‘Man! You’re evil!’
‘What?’ he asks innocently. ‘It’s the right and decent thing to do.’
‘It most certainly is not!’
‘Charlie, I’m not saying you should lie. Go over there and tell them the truth.’
She folds her arms. ‘This sees real dubious ethically.’
‘Is not telling them better ethically?’ Monica asks.
‘Well it won’t start them trying to sabotage Mohinder and Adam!’
Matt rolls his eyes. ‘Mohinder and Adam sabotaged them.’
‘They deserved it!’
‘Look,’ says Monica, ‘if you don’t tell them what’s to stop the Passion Wagon crew trying the same stuff with us next? Let them get all mad at each other and forget about us. It’s self-defence.’
‘Self-defence in advance.’
Charlie lets out a huff of breath. ‘Okay, fine. I’ll tell the Petrellis, geez.’
‘Are we a bad influence on her?’ Monica wonders as Charlie tentatively approaches Nathan.
‘I’m not. I’m too nice. You maybe.’
Monica smacks his arm. ‘Smart ass. I’m going to tell Sandra this whole thing was all your fault.’
Charlie walks back looking a little pink in the face. As she takes her place at the counter they see Nathan taste the sauce, and then spit it into the sink.
‘Okay?’
‘I don’t think he believed me,’ she says sheepishly.
‘I think he does now,’ Monica says, watching the red faced Angela pouring the sauce down the sink.
‘Do you think they’ll have time to make more?’ Charlie wonders.
The buzzer sounds.
‘Oy, you lot, same as before but main course,’ Claude announces. ‘Come on, we’re not waiting here all day.’
This time Mohinder struts over to the judges with squash ravioli with crunchy crumbs while Nathan stalks over holding a dry looking Tonnarelli with urchin eggs.
‘Wow, they really didn’t have time to make more,’ Charlie whispers to Monica.
Matt stands a little way back, holding his coconut encrusted saffron chicken, and out of the way of Mohinder and Nathan as they glare hot, violent deaths at each other.
‘Excellent main,’ Linderman says to Mohinder. ‘Absolutely delicious.’
‘What the hell happened to your sauce?’ Claude asks Nathan.
‘We had some salt issues.’
‘Oh dear me, no, that won’t do at all Mr Petrelli,’ Linderman says shaking his head. ‘This coconut encrusted chicken, on the other hand, looks delicious.’ He takes a bite and chews it slowly. ‘Absolutely gorgeous.’
Purple Passion Wagon: 4/5
Petrelli Family Cuisine: 2/5
Meal Machine: 5/5
‘We’re in the lead!’ Charlie cheers.
‘Hush it; I don’t want anyone throwing salt in my crème caramel!’
‘Looks like they have other things on their mind,’ Matt remarks.
Angela, carrying a bowl of water, slips and somehow rather than merely dropping the bowl manages to send it flying halfway across the room: where it hits Adam squarely in the chest and knocks him over.
‘Mom!’ Peter calls, running over to her.
Mohinder dives to help Adam and, in the ensuing chaos, Nathan casually steals their box of bee larvae.
‘Whoa, for an old lady Mrs Petrelli has a really good arm,’ Monica laughs.
‘She could’ve done him some real damage with that bowl!’ Charlie protests, as Adam stands up rubbing his chest.
‘He’s okay,’ Matt says, patting her should. ‘See Red? He’s fine. I don’t even think the water was hot.’
‘Well it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t told them about the salt!’
‘You don’t know they wouldn’t have worked it out,’ Matt says mildly. ‘They’re not idiots.’
‘Besides it wouldn’t have happened if Adam hadn’t ruined their sauce,’ Monica says, ‘and that wouldn’t have happened if the Petrellis hadn’t cheated on the budget.’ She waves her hand. ‘They brought it all on themselves.’
Charlie shrugs. ‘I still feel guilty.’
‘Have some left over caramel. You’ll feel better,’ Matt suggests.
‘There’s no bee larvae in his, is there?’ Charlie asks suspiciously.
‘Not yet!’
The buzzer sounds but Mohinder and Adam continue their frantic search of their area.
‘Gentlemen, please,’ Linderman prompts.
The two men look at each other and then Mohinder kisses Adam on the cheek before marching over.
‘They’ve stolen our bee larvae,’ Mohinder accuses, nodding at Angela, who merely smiles sweetly.
Claude sighs. ‘You ‘aven’t got your bee larvae.’
‘No, they took it after she hurled a bowl of water at my partner.’
‘They put salt in our sauce!’ Peter calls from their counter.
‘We’ll have to penalise your dish if it doesn’t include the compulsory surprise ingredient,’ Linderman says, shaking his head.
Mohinder grits his teeth and places his chocolate fondue on the table.
‘Not terribly inventive,’ Linderman says sadly. He dips the silver spoon into the fondue and tastes the chocolate sauce. ‘Unfortunate since the fondue is very good.’
‘What’ve you got then, ice cream?’ Claude demands.
‘Affogato,’ Angela says icily. ‘Espresso and ice cream with chocolate coated bee larvae.’
‘Good use of the bee larvae!’ Linderman says jovially. He spoons some of the mixture of hot espresso and melting ice cream into his mouth. ‘Mmm, very nice.’
‘Not exactly adventurous though,’ Claude grumbles. ‘Next.’
Monica places her crème caramel on the table. ‘Thai style crème caramel with bee larvae crunch topping.’
‘These fried?’ Claude asks.
‘Yes, after we soaked them in vanilla and caramel.’
‘They’re burnt.’
Monica forces a smile. ‘I’m not very experienced with cooking insects.’
‘Never mind my dear,’ Linderman says, winking at her.
‘All right you lot, buzz off while we work out the scores.’
‘I feel like such an ass,’ Monica sighs as she slumps back over to Matt and Charlie.
‘Don’t feel like an ass!’ Charlie says, throwing her arms around Monica. ‘I bet your dessert was gorgeous!’
‘It’ll be fine,’ Matt promises. ‘You did a great job.’
‘I’ll never forgive myself if we lose because of me,’ she says, shaking her head.
Matt slings an arm around her shoulders. ‘Chin up and brave heart, Monica.’
Everyone gathers in the centre of the room as Linderman and Claude wait.
‘Firstly we would like to thank you for all for competing.’ Linderman straightens his tie. ‘Now before we move on we have the scores for the desserts.’
Claude clears his throat. ‘Purple Passion Wagon: two points. Petrelli Family Cuisine: four points. Meal Machine: three points.’
Monica slumps against Matt but Charlie grins at her and shakes her head.
‘This brings the totals for the entire competition to Meal Machine: twelve points; Petrelli Family Cuisine: ten points, and The Purple Passion Wagon: nine points.’
‘Whoo!’ Charlie cheers.
‘However…’ Linderman says and everyone falls silent. ‘It has come to our attention that Petrelli Family Cuisine did not stay within their budget. Therefore we are docking them three points. The new scores are: Meal Machine: twelve points; Petrelli Family Cuisine: seven points, and The Purple Passion Wagon: nine points. Therefore the Meal Machine wins with Purple Passion Wagon in second place.’
‘Yes!’ Monica punches the air.
‘I knew you could do it,’ Sandra says, grinning as she pushes Matt down onto the bed.
‘Wasn’t just me,’ he says, tugging off her clothes.
‘I’m not going to have my wicked way with either of the girls,’ she says, straddling. ‘But you’re welcome to imagine I am, as long as you don’t call out their name.’
The End
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2011-11-03 06:57 pm (UTC)Making Matt and Sandra husband and wife was a nice touch that worked out wonderfully.
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Date: 2011-11-03 07:39 pm (UTC)I don't do a lot of het but Sandra seems like she'd be fun with Matt :)
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Date: 2011-11-04 02:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-04 03:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-04 03:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-04 03:52 pm (UTC)<333
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Date: 2011-11-04 02:25 am (UTC)Hee, the opposing teams are hilarious and really well put together--love the Petrellis and Adam and Mohinder's mischievous ways, but the good guys win out in the end :D. Fantastic story, hon! Loved it. <333
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Date: 2011-11-04 03:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-04 03:59 pm (UTC)I was going to do Matt/Mo originally but there's already quite a few Matt/Mo pairings this time and I thought it'd be fun to mix things up a bit. Adam and Mohinder are probably too busy snarking and sneaky off together to get anything much done I suspect :p
Thanks so much for all your help! <333
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Date: 2011-11-04 03:38 am (UTC)Heehee, I loved this one! Food and Matt are two of my favorite things so this was a fun read for me. And coconut encrusted saffron chicken....YES PLEASE! That sounded delicious!
Loved it! <333
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Date: 2011-11-04 03:51 pm (UTC)Thanks so much babe, I'm glad you enjoyed it :D
<333