Chapter 7

A few days after I placed the ad, a tall fellow with short dark hair came in and strutted around as if he owned the place. He peered over at me and asked, “Are you the owner?”

“I am renting the place. Red Harding,” I answered, wiping my hand on my work pants and offering it to my visitor.

“Tony Marino, I’m your new chef.” He accepted the hand, shaking it politely.

“Please excuse the mess; I am getting everything ready to open.”

Tony nodded as he inspected everything around with an approving look. “I like the old country-style decoration scheme. It’s a great place, with good vibes. It feels like home. I’m really going to enjoy working here. I like the town too. I’m looking for small-town life, peace and quiet. No traffic noise or honking cars and sirens at all hours. More than that, I enjoy having some down-time that almost has to be scheduled in this crazy world.”

“You’ve come to the right place. People here are neighborly. We have a nice community if you don’t mind gossip. We have nice forests, mountain trails and a lake.”

Tony nodded absent-mindedly while he kept inspecting everything around.

“I supposed this is going to be the kitchen space.”·

“That’s right. That’s the old kitchen. I didn’t start working on the new kitchen yet. I was waiting to hire a chef and take some hints from him or her.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

“Why don’t we sit and talk, Mr. Marino?” We pulled up a couple of chairs and sat down.

“Please call me, Tony.”

“Okay, Tony. I am Red. How many years of experience do you have working in restaurants?” I asked, taking out of my pocket a printed list of questions I had found surfing the net.

“I come from a long line of cooks. My mother was a cook. My grandmother was a cook and so were her mother and grandmother. I carry with me a large number of notebooks full of family recipes.”

“Okay, next question. Do you have management experience? If so, how many employees did you oversee?”

Tony snorted amused. He took the printed paper out of my hands, took a brief look at it and tore it in two. “Internet questions? You’re kidding me, right?”

I looked at him, not knowing what to say. My lack of experience couldn’t be more evident.

“I’ll tell you everything you need to know about me, Red. I come from an Italian family. I grew up in Staten Island. My family has always worked in restaurants. I had kitchenware instead of toys.”

“What happened to your accent? You don’t sound like a...”

“Guido?” Tony finished.

“I was going to use a better word.”

“Don’t bother. ‘Guido’ pretty much sums it up. Truthfully, not everyone from Staten Island sounds or acts like a goombah. I left Staten Island when I was 24. I’ve been out of that environment for a long time, working here and there. Always in restaurants. You lose your accent after a while.”

“So, are you big into cooking Italian food?” I asked him.

“That’s my favorite cuisine to prepare but I can cook anything. You cook?”

“I wish! I love to eat, but I can’t cook to save my life!” I said with a laugh. “Why didn’t you stay in the family business, Tony?”

“Because I’m gay.” He looked at me, studying my reaction.

I scratched my head.

“I don’t get it.”

Tony smiled. “I was raised in a very Catholic and traditional Italian family. Italy is terribly into the whole machismo thing. That’s true especially in my family, so I kept it to myself. When I reached a certain age my family thought it was time for me to get married, so they arranged a marriage with a good Italian girl. That forced me to come out of the closet. To make a long story short, my father disowned me and kicked me out of the family with a large amount of money and a ‘don’t you ever come back here’.”

I shook my head. I didn’t understand the anger and rage homosexuality caused in some people.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Tony. It must be hard for you.” I said with sympathy.

He waved my concerns away.

“Thank you. Since then, I’ve been working here and there, but truth is I’m tired of hopping from kitchen to kitchen. I want to settle and this is the perfect place. A brand new place where I can do things my own way. An empty canvas where I can create my art.”

I coughed discreetly. “I like you, Tony, but I still haven’t made a decision.”

“You haven’t tasted my cooking yet.” His mouth stretched into a smile. “I’ll go buy some groceries and cook us lunch. Then we’ll discuss the details. I never discuss business with an empty stomach.”

Tony went out and came back an hour later carrying two large paper bags. Once he installed himself in the old kitchen, he began to sing something vaguely operatic at the top of his voice while he cooked. The smell coming from the sauces simmering in the kitchen was mouthwatering.