Honey Trap

by JJ Marsh

  The salad chef, a pretty girl called Chantal, joined them to help out, her competent hands steady and reassuring. Beatrice recalled her public role as British wannabe chef and disguised her less-than-rapid performance as devotion to quality control.

  Eventually, three o’clock came around and the computer screen showed no more orders. Sweaty and dehydrated, she set to clearing up.

  Suhail shook his head. “That’s my job, chef. Chantal and I can manage. You take a break.”

  “Thank you both very much. You are both excellent professionals.” She made her way through the kitchen, trembling from the stress and at a loss as to where to go. The restaurant was still occupied by the last few diners, the kitchen was still a nightmare of bangs and shouts and she couldn’t hide in Isabella’s office. She opted for the little courtyard outside the kitchen door, greeting two other chefs having a cigarette. They appeared relaxed and clean, whereas her chef’s coat was splattered with coffee, chocolate and raspberry coulis, and her hands still shaky.

  One of them offered her a cigarette.

  “No, thank you. I don’t smoke. Although right now, I wish I did.”

  The young man smiled. “Your first day at Ecco? The pressure is high.”

  The cool spring breeze soothed Beatrice’s red face and she took the opportunity of a casual conversation to learn a little about her co-workers. “I’m Beatrice. I know Agusto introduced everyone at the start of service, but I was in such a panic, I couldn’t even remember my own name.”

  The cigarette-offerer held out a hand. “Marcello. I’m now Agusto’s sous-chef. This is Bruno, who is doing his apprenticeship. He started last week. Your first day was also high pressure, eh, Bruno?”

  The handsome young man rolled his eyes. “Crazy! Worse than military service. Hello, Beatrice. Pleased to meet you.” His accent had a US twang.

  Beatrice shook with them both and leaned against the wall, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Do you work both lunch and dinner shifts? It must be incredibly tiring.”

  Marcello shrugged. “After a while, it is normal. You don’t work the evening service?”

  “No, one shift per day is all I can handle. Yes, I won a competition on TV, but that’s a million miles from holding my own in a professional kitchen. I’ve got two weeks to learn. If I survive that long.”

  Both men laughed.

  “What do you think of my uncle?” asked Bruno.

  Beatrice tilted her head in puzzlement.

  “It’s OK, you can be honest,” he grinned, blowing out a stream of smoke. “Agusto terrifies all of us.”

  “Oh I see. You’re his nephew. I think I met your father yesterday. Gennaio?”

  Bruno shook his head and stubbed out his cigarette. “No, Gennaio is also my uncle. My father died when I was a child. Both my uncles are always very kind to me. I did the first part of my apprenticeship with Gennaio, and the second part with Agusto.”

  Beatrice squeezed her eyes shut for a second in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t make assumptions. You’re training to work in the food industry?”

  Bruno coughed a laugh. “Please don’t be offended, Beatrice, but that’s the last thing in the world I want to do. I have to accept my uncles’ offers because they are family. But as soon as I finish, I’m setting up a start-up business as an app developer. I got confirmation of funding just this week.”

  “Do your uncles know?”

  “Not yet. I want to tell them both together and Gennaio is on a business trip this week. When he gets back from Hungary I plan to break the news over Easter, when everyone is in a good mood. Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck!”

  Marcello turned to Beatrice. “Isabella says you live in London. Great city.”

  “Yes, I’m based in London, but now exploring Europe to learn international cuisine. Some would say I’m too old to try a new career, but I’m enjoying the experience even if it scares me to death. Learning something new keeps me young.”

  “And you bring something new to us. The affogato al colazione is wonderful. A fantastic idea with the ice-cream and the tuile,” Marcello smiled.

  Beatrice opened her mouth to protest that the tuile, or brandy snap as she would have called it, was Agusto’s addition. Plus Suhail was the one who suggested pouring coffee over the ice-cream and designing it as a breakfast dessert. But she simply nodded modestly and wondered if she could request the personnel files again but this time with an entirely new column. Who was an employee and who was a relative?

  “Judging by the number of orders we had today, it was quite the novelty,” she said. “Do you have a signature dish, Marcello?”

  “He is the King of the Sea!” laughed Bruno. “If it swims, he’ll cook it.”

  Marcello finished his cigarette and ground it carefully into the wall-mounted ashtray. “Bruno exaggerates. My speciality is seafood, fish, soups, fillets, patés, gratins, brochettes and sushi. When you live by the sea, why not make the most of it?”

  The door behind them burst open and Agusto thrust his head out. “What the hell are you doing out here while there’s still food to be refrigerated? I don’t pay you to lounge around smoking! How the hell you expect to train your taste buds while dragging on those terrible things, I don’t know!”

  All three scurried up the steps and past the nerve-wracking figure of Agusto, who glared at each of them like a Minotaur.

  Alessandro, the maître d’hôtel, stalked around the restaurant, ensuring its restoration to pristine condition was complete. He checked glasses and adjusted cutlery, inspected napkins and ran a finger across the surface of the bar. He agreed to Beatrice’s request for ‘a bit of a chat’ with a smooth smile.

  “I hoped to talk to Maria as well, but I assume she’s left for the day.”

  “Yes. She will return at six for the pre-service briefing. Would you like to sit here?” He indicated the table behind the greeting station, the one kept in reserve for emergencies. It was not laid for service, bearing only a laptop computer and a selection of little silvery shapes.

  “Thank you.” She looked down at the shapes. A fish, a cresting wave, a tiny little toast rack, none larger than her thumb.

  “Cutlery rests,” he explained. “I need to make a choice. Which one do you like?”

  Beatrice picked up the fish, running her finger over the engraved scales and dorsal fin. The toast rack had three wide gaps, perfect for resting your knife and fork, but reminded her somehow of missing teeth. The cresting wave was more delicate, arching like a bass clef. It looked the most attractive but least practical. Surely your knife and fork would simply slide off? As if reading her mind, Alessandro turned it over and placed a pen inside. It rested securely and the wave transformed into something resembling the palm of a hand with curled thumb.

  “I’d go for that one. Pretty, functional and rather intriguing,” she said.

  “Yes, I agree. It has balance. Thank you for your help. What would you like to know about the front-of-house operation?”

  Beatrice studied him. His eyes, unlike her constantly distracted driver, seemed to be constantly watching, alert to every detail.

  “My fundamental question is how the two parts work together. How far do you and Agusto collaborate to ensure the guests get the experience they anticipate?”

  “That is a good question. The restaurant has a mission. We think big with ideas and imagination. We also think little, and that means attention to detail. Every element combines to deliver a sublime dining experience. Come, I will show you.” He stood up, with an air Beatrice recognised. A man eager to share his knowledge, exactly like Matthew in a lecture hall. She followed him across the room, the willing pupil persona not merely an act.

  “Look out of the window. You see an ancient port welcoming cultures from all over the world. Napoli has a proud heritage, a culture all its own. This forms the foundation of Ecco. We are proud of our Italian roots. Our ingredients are local and seasonal and the freshest you will find. But we are also a
port, open to new tastes and influences. We incorporate all this into our menu. Sometimes, we explore spices from Malaysia or fermentation from Japan. Ecco looks to the future, but remembers its past. This way.”

  He led the way to the centre of the restaurant. “We have room for only sixty guests, so it is not so large. One table, one party, so only sixty diners per service. Look around. Tell me what the ambience of this room says to you.”

  Beatrice took in the Mediterranean blue of the walls, painted so the colour lightened from intense lapis lazuli at the bottom to pastel forget-me-not at the top. Along the bottom of two walls were glass bricks allowing sunshine to enter. Above, sunken spotlights cast yellow pools or drew attention to eclectic works of art, each representing some maritime scene. Gold-coloured tablecloths covered each table with white napkins folded into sail-like peaks. The terrace design, where the tables at the back were on the highest level and those at the front on the lowest, meant that every diner could appreciate the panoramic view of the Bay of Naples.

  “It’s a reflection, isn’t it? The colour scheme echoes the view. Sea, sand, sky and those glass bricks create an effect like ripples of water round your ankles. As if you’re paddling on the beach.”

  Alessandro patted the fingers of his right hand to the palm of his left in muted applause. “Very good. Do you see a difference between today and your experience as a diner on Saturday evening?”

  Beatrice recalled her first impression of the restaurant atmosphere. “It was darker, somehow. Now I see yellow and peony, like a beach in the daytime. The other night it was more orange and navy. The napkins were blue, not white. So it is a reflection of the exterior and changes with the time of day.”

  “And ...?”

  “There’s plenty of room between each table. People aren’t crammed up against each other fighting for space.” She examined the nearest table. “Are those for children?” she asked, pointing to the dumpy little stools which looked like something from an upmarket kindergarten.

  “No, no. These are for the ladies’ handbags. Waiters place one to the right or left of our female guests, depending on which arm she carries her bag. One cannot expect designer accessories to be placed on the floor.”

  “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” Beatrice gave him an appreciative nod.

  “We try. Come, let us sit. You asked me how the kitchen and restaurant work together. In my experience, each establishment operates differently, but I will tell you about Ecco. The heart of the place is Agusto. He changes the menu at least once a month, sometimes more often. When an ingredient is out of season, he replaces it with something else. That may mean an alteration to a dish or removing it entirely and introducing a substitute. We meet every Monday morning to discuss the menu. This is not a matter of ingredients and correct accompaniments. It is a question of story.”

  Beatrice tugged at her earlobe. “Agusto keeps saying the same thing but I confess I’m not sure what he means. Why does each dish need to have a story?”

  “Miss Stubbs, if you want to become a professional chef, you need to understand where flavour is created.”

  “I can see by your face you expect the wrong answer. You look like a card shark with all the aces.”

  Alessandro rested his chin on his knuckles, waiting for her answer.

  “Right, here you go. Flavour is created in the kitchen, from the imagination of the chef, his knowledge of food and the best combinations of ingredients to maximise the experience.”

  Alessandro reached behind his greeter podium and withdrew a briefcase. He tilted it towards him to enter the combination and drew out a document.

  “Read this. Then we can continue our conversation. I think you will enjoy it.”

  Chapter 13

  CONFIDENTIAL

  Consultancy advisory paper for management of Ecco

  This paper draws on research carried out in the University of Naples Federico II Science Department, first published 2011.

  The Essence of Taste – Professor P. Bonardi

  Summary

  Introduction

  Taste as a gustatory sense can be defined as the ability to determine flavour. Traditionally, we associate this ability with our taste buds, located in the mouth and more specifically on the tongue. At the time of writing this paper, we are able to distinguish five distinct flavours: salty, sour, sweet, bitter and umami.

  If the experience of taste is as simple as that, how do we account for the multi-billion-dollar industry surrounding food? Not simply manufacturing, but consider cookery schools, celebrity chefs, recipe books, personalised diets, specialised shops, the range of restaurants and cultural cuisines.

  It is only in this millennium that a significant body of research by neurophysiologists and cognitive neuroscientists has investigated the profoundly multisensory nature of human perception. The relationship between olfactory receptors (our sense of smell) has long been recognised as an effect on what we experience as taste. What then of the other three senses: visual, tactile and auditory?

  Interestingly, major food companies are far ahead of the scientists. Their awareness of the role of colour in what makes the food or packaging around it more appealing gave rise to a whole industry of additives. Food advertising reflects the importance of sound: ‘crunchy’, ‘crispy’, ‘Snap, Crackle and Pop’. Companies like Häagen-Dazs changed the view of ice-cream as a child’s treat to a sensual experience as much about touch as taste.

  At the core of all our cerebral processes is what the marketing industry terms ‘the lizard brain’. This part of the cortex can be described as the most animal element, where raw sensations are experienced. Above that is the area which is responsible for perception, by assembling those sensations into meaning. Up another level and we see cognitive thought process, assessing the meaning in relation to ourselves. Here we see language, memory, expectation, creativity and logic.

  Essentially, as this paper will prove, taste is not what happens in the kitchen, but what happens in our heads. Gordon Shepherd, author of Neurogastronomy says, “A common misconception is that the foods contain the flavours. Foods do contain the flavour molecules, but the flavours of those molecules are created by the brain.”

  Findings

  Extensive tests over three years on paid test subjects with some expertise, such as wine-tasters, perfumers, flavour-developing companies and food scientists, and volunteers with no particular aptitude or interest in the topics, gave us the same results.

  All five senses in addition to language, culture and expectation make a difference to how we experience flavour. Each is closely intertwined and difficult to isolate.

  For example, seafood with lemon is perceived to have less flavour when served on a warm white plate. Tasters confirmed an increase in intensity when exactly the same dish is served beside crushed ice on a black plate.

  Crudités in primary colours are judged to be fresher, crunchier and more likely to be organic when listening to upbeat, recognisable, popular music rather than background muzak and presented upright in painted flowerpots rather than horizontally in a dish.

  When the menu described a dish as Mexican Mole: game birds accompanied by a dark chocolate sauce, it scored very poorly. Exactly the same ingredients and presentation but entitled Secrets of the Forest: game birds accompanied by a dark chocolate sauce, was far better received.

  Conclusions

  By appealing to all the senses and transmitting subtle ideas through careful selection of ingredients, presentation and association, the potential purchaser requires the following pattern. This is the same for a kebab stall as it is a five-star restaurant. Set up expectation: desire, atmosphere, satisfaction. A kebab stall does this with lurid pictures of its wares with a clear price tag. This is what you get. A restaurant does this by telling stories. You choose your own adventure.

  What does this mean for a five-star restaurant such as Ecco?

  Ecco needs a story. An overall ‘history’ even if it is invented. Clients
want meaning, authenticity and something to tell their friends. The interior décor must reflect this narrative. Designed by local architect Gianni di Napoli, the restaurant represents tomatoes/discovery/history, or whatever you think appropriate.

  What is the chef’s story? What drives him to create these culinary experiences? The staff must know all these tales and relate them as if for the first time.

  Recommendations

  In practical terms, once you have made decisions regarding the conclusions above, it is all about detail.

  Study how the restaurant fits into its environment. If outside is noisy and chaotic, the restaurant should be an orderly haven. If outside is dull and uninteresting, the restaurant offers life, colour and beauty.

  Test all your dishes for the most suitable presentation. Test, test, test. Heavy dessert bowls persuade the diner to feel fuller, light wine glasses suggest sophistication. Use what works best for your dishes – be prepared to change the concept with the season.

  Pay attention to the cleaning chemicals used on tables and floor. The environment must be neutral in terms of scent. Fresh flowers are a mistake. Air conditioning should be someone’s job. The air is the tablecloth of the room. It must be clean.

  When planning the menu, give as much thought to the soundtrack as anything else. Think of your tasting menu as a symphony with different movements and select the correct music for each course. Atmospheric contemporary composers encourage diners to focus. Restricting yourself to classical limits your mind and their sensations.