03
Jun
08

Foodie, Chapter 1

“Oh no. Not traffic. Not this morning.” Malorie rubbed her hand across her face in frustration before she remembered she was actually wearing makeup. “Crap. Traffic this early on the beltway, I smudged my eyeliner.” She said only to herself “This is not turning out right at all.” As she sat still in the long line of cars she took a sip of her mocha and tried not to think about the day ahead of her.

What am I doing here? I shouldn’t be here. Of course I should. I have every right to do this. Oh. My. God. I can’t believe I quit my job. How am I supposed to pay for this?

Malorie glanced in the rear view mirror again and tried to clean up the liner above her right eye. Stupid makeup. Why am I even wearing it? No one is going to care what I look like. She gave up, and smudged the other side to match, not realizing the effect highlighted her green eyes even more.

As the traffic inched forward, Malorie clicked on the radio, only found talking heads, and turned it back off again. The she fiddled with the air conditioning, trying to push back the oppressive humidity steaming up from the road. Last night’s thunderstorms had blown through quickly leaving wet and hot instead of just hot. She pushed her hair back and hoped she had an elastic band in her pocket. She would need it to tame her curls when she got there.

The loan has to come through; the loan HAS to come through. What would Mom think about this? The thought made Malorie laugh out loud and mimic what she imagined what her mother would say “You quit a good job for that?! You’re going to pay them to teach you? It should be the other way around. You’re too good for them!” Not yet, mom, but I will be. Malorie had inherited her mother’s practicality and frugality, but this time she was going against that common sense and following her heart.

Everything she needed to know to get this far she’d learned at her parent’s knees, working hard for them, and learning every aspect of the business. When the diner had burned and her weary parents took the insurance money and retired, Malorie had gone and found her own way. She’d taken jobs in little cafés and big restaurants. She’d worked every position possible from dishwasher to line cook. Except for one. The one job she really wanted. Head Chef.

Malorie shifted uncomfortably in her seat and stretched her legs, as the cars around her finally began to speed up. How am I going to do this drive everyday? It’s going to kill my car and my back. God. I don’t even want to think about how much money I’m going to spend on gas every week. I have to find a new apartment. Something closer. Something where they’ll let me keep my cat.

“Something where I can avoid the beltway!” She jammed on the brakes and smacked her hand on the steering wheel as the car in front of her came to another full stop. “I can’t be late!” she yelled to no one. I’m gonna get kicked out on the first day of school. Well. I might anyway. If they think I can’t cook.

I can cook. I can cook. I just need a few new techniques and I can get a new job. So I can pay back the loan. If get the loan. I have to get the loan. I can’t tell my parents what I did with the money they gave me. The bank has to come through so I can pay them back before I tell them I’ve signed up for culinary school.

Traffic began to move faster now. She relaxed and took the curves as quickly as she could. Time was short now but she could make it. She saw her exit just ahead and her nerves cranked up. She felt around on the seat beside her and found the directions she’d printed out days ago. She’d studied them until they were burned in her brain, but she was still afraid of taking a wrong turn.

Malorie followed the instructions carefully and soon found her way to the front doors of the Culinary Institute. She walked into her classroom with scant minutes to spare. No time to meet anyone. She glanced about the room. Mostly men. Pretty much what I expected. Oh, another girl. Phew. She made her way to the back of the room and found a seat just as the instructor arrived, looked at the class severely, and said “Pair up, we’re going to cook some eggs. This is your first test, so don’t fail it.”

Malorie grinned to herself. Thank god for all those diners I worked in. If there’s one thing I can make, it’s a good egg.


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12 Responses to “Foodie, Chapter 1”


  1. June 3, 2008 at 1:56 pm

    Can I please have Chapter 2 now? This is FANTASTIC.

  2. 3 Meg
    June 3, 2008 at 4:46 pm

    Well done! Are you a foodie?

  3. June 3, 2008 at 6:48 pm

    Alright! Culinary Institute!

  4. June 3, 2008 at 7:41 pm

    Excellent start. There is much havoc one can wreak with food.

  5. June 3, 2008 at 8:13 pm

    Yay! We have a chapter! Awesome!

  6. June 5, 2008 at 12:24 am

    You must give us more… and soon! I can’t drive all the way to the Culinary Institute, worry about my parents’ reactions to how I spend my money, enter the classroom with all those guys, be told that eggs are on the agenda… and then have my brain “scrambling” for more!

    Dish, baby… dish!

    I LOVE it!

    Sharon – Pinks & Blues

  7. June 6, 2008 at 3:17 am

    Very nice! As a foodie who loves to read about chefs, this is a winning beginning! (Bad rhyme, sorry!)

  8. August 2, 2008 at 4:52 am

    Good start of the story! Good descriptions and character-building!


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