Just Desserts

The Farmer’s Market heaved with activity. Hundreds of food vendors huddled together, their stalls acting as touchstones for the tourists and locals who meandered beneath the California sunshine.

Artists queued to buy overpriced coffee in cafes filled with writers who were tapping away on laptops, convinced that next screenplay, that next novel would be their ticket to cracking Hollywood. Lifestyle gurus coached clients about how to be happy, while influencers took photos of everything they came into contact with, swinging their selfie sticks like clubs. A microcosm of Los Angeles paired down to the bare essentials.

Adephagia wandered through the market with a smile on her face, absorbing the smells of countless food varieties. It was a good day to forage for ingredients. She turned the corner, passing through Argentina, Poland, Mexico, Germany, Spain, France and Italy, a culinary world tour all in one row of stalls, until she reached a stand owned by a Greek named Nestor.

Nestor’s eyes lit up when he saw her and they had a quick chat about the new produce he’d managed to source before he was pulled away to deal with another customer. Adephagia admired the food. Golden melons, bright as the sun. Nectarines that sparkled as brilliantly as any gemstone. Fist-sized figs. Each fruit a representation of her homeland and the bounty it provided. 

She paid, loaded her tote bag with as much as she could carry and headed for the parking lot. Halfway to her car, she noticed a woman sitting at a table outside a café, sipping an iced latte. Her hair was the deepest shade of brown. Not chestnut, russet, ash brown or any other shade. Pure brown. As brown as the earth itself. The dress she wore bloomed with flowers from every season.

 As soon as their eyes locked, the woman winked at Adephagia and walked through the crowd towards her. No. That wasn’t right. Gliding was a better way to describe it. The woman had an air of elegance about her, an easy confidence that set her apart from the average Los Angelean. It couldn’t be faked, taught or learnt. It was an otherworldly kind of confidence reserved for movie stars and gods.

“Hello Demeter. What a surprise to see you here.” Adephagia said, not at all surprised.

 “You know me, dear. Wherever there’s nature’s bounty to be found I’m not far behind.” Demeter simpered, looking past Adephagia, to a couple of young women who were watching them intently. One of the girls plucked up the courage to come forward.

“Excuse me. I don’t mean to interrupt or anything…but you’re Demi Contos, right?”

 “It depends on the time of day,” Demeter answered, her glib comment catching the girl off guard and she struggled to think of what to say. “Yes. That would be me. What can I do for you?”

 Relief washed over the girl’s face, quickly followed by an expression of awe. “Me and my friend. We’re like…we’re really big fans of your recipes. They were part of the reason I became vegan. Anyway, before I start rambling I was wondering if we could take a picture with you?”

 “Of course. Anything for the fans.” Demeter posed with the girls for a few selfies. Adephagia watched, amused and fascinated at the way mortals recorded their experiences. In the old days, it was all statues, temples and amphora. Much of the grandeur had been wiped away. Replaced by hollow devices that captured only a sliver of the greatness that had once been true worship. 

 After the girls had left, Demeter recomposed herself. “That’s the 100^th Instagram post I’ve been featured in this week. I swear becoming a celebrity chef was one of the greatest decisions of my life. If such a thing had existed during the Peloponnesian War I’d have been more loved than Zeus.” 

 “Of that I have no doubt,” Adephagia said, feeling the more she agreed, the sooner the conversation would be over and she could get to her car.

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Word on the grapevine is that you’ve earned quite a reputation with your cuisine at Sysstia. Even more so as a mysterious chef who prefers to stay in the kitchen. Inspiring tactic by the way. Always keep them guessing and wanting more.”

 “I prefer to let my food speak for itself.” Anonymity suited Adephagia. She’d never been the type to seek recognition or glory. It was the kind of attitude that made her both an enigma and an outcast to her fellow gods. She liked it that way. 

“I hope it will. Because I was planning on reserving a table at Sysstia for this weekend and trying your food for myself. I do hope you can squeeze me in.”

Adephagia considered her answer. There was no denying Demeter held tremendous influence in food scenes all over the world and that she had the power to make life unpleasant for restaurateurs who failed to meet her high standards. If she refused, then it gave the impression that she couldn’t handle pressure and her pride simply wouldn’t let that happen.

   “That won’t be a problem. I’d be happy to host you.”

“Wonderful! I’m looking forward to seeing you work your cooking magic. I’ll also be documenting the experience. Just think of the adoration that’ll come from your patrons when they hear Demi Contos has given her stamp of approval. Imagine the new worshippers that’ll flock to eat your food. Mark my words, by next week, the whole world will know about Sysstia. Until then, dear.”  Demeter twirled on her feet, disappearing back into the market.

 On the drive to the restaurant, Adephagia decided not to let the thought of cooking for Demeter intimidate her. The Goddess of Agriculture cast a long shadow, but Adephagia refused to live in it. Instead she’d use it as fuel to stoke her inspiration.

When she got to Sysstia, Adephagia entered through the door closest to the kitchen, the smell of disinfectant hanging in the air. It was a smell she enjoyed. A clean workstation promoted a clean way of living. She put her bag down on the counter and turned around in time to see Cora, her General Manager, stride into the kitchen, armed with more cleaning equipment.

“Good. You’re here. I thought I was going to have to do all the cleaning myself.”

Adephagia leaned against the counter. “Not that I don’t always appreciate your attention to detail. But the place is spotless.”

“There’s still a lot of grime in the sink pipes that need to be cleared out and don’t get me started on the dust that’s gathering on the top shelves.”

“It can wait. Have I told you that you’re cute when you overthink?”

“I’d prefer it if you said I was the heart and soul of Sysstia.”

 “That too.” Adephagia wrapped her arms around Cora’s waist and kissed her. They held each other for a few moments, appreciating the comfortable silence that came from decades of partnership. Then, Adephagia returned to her bag and arranged the ingredients on the counter.  

“I bumped into Demeter at the Farmer’s Market.”

 “Bet that was painful. What did old Mrs Green Thumb have to say for herself?”

“She’s coming to the restaurant on Saturday and expects the greatest food she’s ever tasted. All while broadcasting it to the world and giving her live reactions.”

“So, no pressure then.” Cora said cheerily. “Shouldn’t be that hard for the Goddess of Gluttony to prove why she’s a kitchen queen.”

“I’m Goddess of the Harvest,” Adephagia corrected, feeling the weight of expectation lessen in Cora’s warmth. “And I’m the queen of every kitchen I step into.”

“Don’t I know it,” Cora kissed her on the cheek and they both slipped into their routines for the workday. Adephagia greeted the kitchen staff and got them prepped for the evening, while Cora coordinated the waiters and bartenders.

 At 6PM, Sysstia opened and a steady stream of customers wandered through the doors. Adephagia focused on the work, taking the food orders and assigning them to different chefs. When she’d started Sysstia, Adephagia had been adamant that it wasn’t just a restaurant. It was a refuge for those who were living on the edge of human society. Satyrs, harpies, dryads, centaurs.

Forgotten creatures forced to find a way to adapt to a world that had shunned them. All of them kept steady jobs at the restaurant and their work ethic shone through. The atmosphere in her kitchen was fast-paced and fluid, every member of the team coming together to do their part.  More than that, they were a family, pushing each other to be better and having fun.

By the time Sysstia closed at 12PM, Adephagia’s body ached with the burn of hard labour. She was too wired to rest. She told Cora she’d lock up and meet her at home. When she was alone, Adephagia sat in the kitchen and scribbled notes, thinking of new recipes for her menu.

As soon as one idea flashed in her mind, another took its place and she had to slow down to make sure she could think each one through properly. She tore out several pages from her notebook, unsatisfied, then went in a new direction, repeating the process throughout the night.

Shards of light stabbed her in the face and Adephagia blinked, bleary-eyed. She’d fallen asleep at the restaurant. Rubbing her face, she glanced at her notes. The wild scrawls and pictures made her think she was looking at the diary of a madwoman. Maybe she was.

Adephagia poured herself a mug of strong coffee, drinking it all in a few gulps to get the caffeine rush she needed to get to her car. So early in the morning, the roads were quiet and she was home within half an hour. Inside, she was greeted by Narcissus, who rubbed up against her legs and then leapt onto the couch to wash himself.

“That tabby’s as vain as his namesake,” Cora said, entering the living room in a dressing gown. “I figured you’d be pulling an all-nighter. Breakfast is on the table. You’re welcome.”

While Cora showered, Adephagia went into the kitchen and saw a box of cereal on the table with a bowl and spoon. There was a note on the box in Cora’s handwriting that read ‘keep food simple.’ Rolling her eyes, Adephagia grabbed a carton of soy milk out of the fridge, adding it to the cereal.  She was hit with a wave of fatigue, rode it out until the last mouthful and then went to bed, falling asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Adephagia dreamt she was wandering through a desert made of flour, white powder blowing all around her. With each step she took, the ground got thicker, making it harder to move. As she began to sink, she looked around desperately, spying a copse of trees at the edge of the desert. Mustering her strength, Adephagia shuffled forward, moving in slow motion through a mixture that seemed to become more solid by the second.

When the trees came into view, Adephagia grabbed onto a vine that was sticking out from a branch. She hauled herself onto the grass, exhausted and sore. After a while, she sat up and noticed she was surrounded by pomegranates. They littered the forest floor, shimmering red and purple. Adephagia picked up a clump, squeezing them between her fingers to feel the juice run down her hands and wrists. She awoke, inspiration clearing the fogginess from her head.

*

The clock ticked. It was the only sound in the restaurant, other than the rain that pelted the windows. Adephagia stood at the reception desk with Cora, watching time tick by. Saturday had crept up quickly. She was ready to go to war.

 At 6PM, the door opened and Demeter came in, dressed in a floral raincoat and carrying a dark umbrella. She was followed by a camera crew, who immediately started to flit about like a swarm of locusts, taking closeup shots of the décor.

 “Wonderful to see you again, dear. I hope you don’t mind the boys getting started with the filming. That’s always been their style.”

“Not at all. After Cora has shown you to your table she’ll help them get set up properly.”

 “Ah, this must be the other half of the talented duo making waves in the LA food scene. And a nymph at that! You should be proud to have come so far. I didn’t think there were many left.”

“Thank you. Let me take your coat and umbrella.” Cora said, using her hospitality voice. Adephagia caught the subtle twitch of irritation in the tremble of her lips. It disappeared in an instant.

Cora led Demeter to her table, while Adephagia returned to the kitchen to let the staff know that it was showtime. After giving them a quick pep talk, she returned to Demeter, who sat at her table, surrounded by cameras and streaming devices.

“Hello loves! Thank you so much for tuning into another episode of Demi’s Food Adventures. For those who’ve already been watching on social throughout the week you’ll know I’ve been dropping a few hints as to where my next foodie adventure was going to be.

If you already guessed the theme then that’s a golden star for you! I’m in a place that’s been flying under the radar until today and I’m really excited to say I’m eating at Sysstia in Baldwin Hills. And you’re in for another treat. The head chef has come to tell me about the menu. What can I expect, chef?”

The cameras turned and Adephagia felt a sudden stab of discomfort. She cleared her throat. “I’ll be serving a three-course meal with ingredients sourced from Greece.”

She went back to the kitchen before Demeter had the chance to drag her into another live stream. All that mattered now was the food. Adephagia had decided that she was going to keep the menu simple. She started with the appetisers, courgette balls paired with dolmades and home-made dips of taramasalata and tzatziki.

As soon as the starters left the kitchen, she moved onto the main course, spanakopita pie served with a generous helping of shrimp saganaki. Adephagia worked methodically, blocking everything out beside the ingredients in front of her. She wiped her station down, made requests to the other chefs and poured all her energy into getting the food out on time.

 When she started working on dessert, Adephagia could feel her excitement rising. This was the dish to decide her fate. Everything that had come before was simply window dressing. She baked bougatsa from scratch, filling the pastry with custard, sugar and pomegranate paste. She garnished the top with more pomegranates and placed a dollop of strawberry ice cream on the side.

 Once it was finished, Adephagia took the plate out into the dining area. Demeter was still chattering away to the cameras, lost in her self-absorbed little world.

 “How’s everything been so far?”

“Oh, it’s been marvellous so far. Truly spectacular. The fans have been giving your food plenty of love too. Isn’t that right, guys?” Demeter gushed, holding up her phone screen so Adephagia could see the stream of hearts that’d come through on Instagram.

“Glad to hear it. I wanted to serve you dessert myself to make your night just a bit more memorable. It’s my own take on a classic bougatsa pastry. I wanted to do something a little different and added pomegranates for some extra sweetness. I call it ‘Persephone’s Delight.’”

  The geniality in Demeter’s expression died. She looked at the dish, then at Adephagia, storm clouds gathering in her eyes. “Sounds interesting.”

“Enjoy.” Adephagia bowed her head and left Demeter to finish her meal. She spent the rest of her shift cleaning up, finding it to be therapeutic. Sometime later, Cora came into the kitchen, her features hard to read.

“So, what did she think?” Adephagia said.

 “I don’t know. As soon as she’d finished eating the lights went out. When they came back on, she’d vanished along with her entourage. Bit dramatic if you ask me.”

“We’ll have to wait and see.” Adephagia mused.

*

The next day, Adephagia was relaxing at the apartment when she heard a knock at the door. Demeter stood in the hallway; arms folded. “Mind if I come in?”

“By all means. Drink?”

“Herbal tea if you have any.”

 Adephagia nodded and made two mugs of ginger tea. She handed Demeter her cup and then sat on the couch. Narcissus leapt into her lap to settle down.

“I’m curious to know how you found out where I live.” Adephagia said, scratching Narcissus behind his ear.

“It’s not difficult when you know where to look.” Demeter sipped her drink. “You took a huge risk serving me pomegranates.”

“That’s all part of being a chef. And considering that we’re talking face to face I’d say it paid off.”

“That remains to be seen. I’ve killed people for less, you know. Using my daughter’s condition to insult me through food was foolish.”

 “I wasn’t trying to insult you or your daughter. I was making a point.” Adephagia countered.

 “And what point is that?”

 “That food needs to be experienced in the moment. Really experienced. That it should move you. Make you feel things that are wholly personal and unique. Not broadcasted for the sake of vanity or worship. I think I accomplished that with Persephone’s Delight.”

 Demeter took another swig of her tea. “I turned the cameras off when you gave me that dessert. I was so angry that I considered burning down the restaurant on principle. Then I tasted it and it was one of the most delicious things I’ve ever eaten. I’m expecting to see more risky dishes like that in future.” Demeter finished her tea and left without another word.

Adephagia stayed on the couch for a little while, stroking Narcissus until he curled up to sleep. Then she went into the kitchen to think about her next recipe. It was going to be a good day.