Turn up the Heat

set a wedding date—they couldn’t even decide whether to get married before or after the baby was born—they were nonetheless officially engaged. I was just happy that they were together at all, especially since Adrianna had freaked out when she’d found out she was pregnant and had foolishly made out with Josh’s sous chef, Snacker, a number of times in some sort of rebellious denial. On the night the unsuspecting Owen was going to propose, in fact, just as he was about to propose, right here at Simmer, Adrianna had suddenly announced both her pregnancy and her recent history with Snacker. Owen had understandably flipped out, but fortunately, the two of them had quickly worked things out. Owen and Snacker, on the other hand, loathed each other but remained coldly polite, mostly for my sake.
    “So what are we ordering?” asked the ever-hungry Adrianna. Despite complaining about heartburn all the time, the girl couldn’t get enough to eat. “The cod with vegetables looks really good. This is a new menu, right?”
    “Right. They’ve only been running it for a few days. It’s got all the new spring items on it. Josh had to teach the kitchen staff all the recipes and how to plate the food. I think it looks awesome.” I was bursting with pride at Josh’s food.
    I’d watched him sit at my kitchen table, pen in hand, while he brainstormed to come up with the perfect dishes for the menu. I’d also learned how he went about pricing them out. It was fairly appalling to learn how little it costs to make some plates and what restaurants charge for them. The basic rule was that you figured out what the protein portion of the dish would cost, like the steak or the tuna, then you’d estimate the cost of the other ingredients, add those together, multiply by three, and then add three dollars. So, a twenty-four-dollar entrée might only cost the restaurant seven dollars in actual food costs. Josh had explained to me that after following the basic rule, he would then adjust the price depending on how a dish sold. Pasta dishes were great because they sold really well, and the pasta was cheap to buy, so chefs could up the price on those menu items. It was also easy to up the prices for lobster and tuna dishes, which were obvious luxury foods and sold a ton. Chicken, on the other hand, often had to be on a menu to please the occasional customer who wanted it, but it generally didn’t sell well, so a chicken entrée price would stay close to the formulated pricing cost.
    Terry put his menu down on his plate. “I’m definitely getting the seared scallops with grilled pancetta, honey parsnip puree, and warm pear chutney. No question. Thank you for inviting us, Chloe. Doug has had such nice things to say about Simmer, and I’ve really been looking forward to coming here.”
    “I’m with you on the scallops,” Owen agreed. “And the roasted pork quesadilla with apple salsa.” It was very Josh to do something traditional like quesadillas but then serve it with an unconventional topping.
    Leandra came to take our orders. “Everybody set?” Despite having eaten at Simmer many times, I was still impressed that the servers didn’t write anything down. Order pads were apparently beneath the upper-crust atmosphere of Newbury Street. If I’d been Leandra, I’d have had to run to the register, scramble to remember every order, and immediately enter it into the computer. She showed no signs of strain.
    Just as Doug finished telling Leandra the entree he wanted, Gavin Seymour appeared and welcomed us with the charm that’s so useful to restaurant owners. Gavin was in his late thirties, very handsome, and dressed in his typically and somewhat misleadingly casual style. Tonight he had on soft khaki pants and a simple cotton shirt, but I knew from Josh that Gavin did most of his clothes shopping through his personal dresser and that his clothing all came from high-end shops. The plain shirt was probably from Brooks Brothers. If I ever have the luxury of having a personal dresser, I’m going to instruct my assistant not to waste my money on overpriced clothes that might as well come from Old Navy.
    “Have you all ordered?” Gavin asked. We nodded. He took our menus then turned to Leandra. “Why don’t you ask Josh to send out a few extra appetizers for this crowd? They all look especially hungry tonight.”
    “Of course, Gavin. I’ll go put these orders right in.” Leandra smiled directly at her boss and smoothly