Bitter Blossoms: A Tale of Horror

  Bitter Blossoms

  A Tale of Horror

  by Owen Carlysle

  all rights reserved copyright 2013 by Dark Eyes Press

  “It’s supposed to be pancakes.” Thomas wasn’t pleased, but then again he never appeared pleased.

  “Come on, Tommy. Get into the spirit. I made this special for you.” Nothing on the table yet, though the waitress stood expectantly for Arthur’s signal. Arthur nodded to her, noting with satisfaction that she was properly dressed in the traditional outfit, though it seemed out of place on a tall blonde with features that looked more appropriate for a cheerleader theme. “Besides, Tommy, it’s going to be this way for the next two weeks, and you’ll need to test it anyway, right?”

  “Fuck, Arthur.” The waitress brought the clay cup and poured the sake. Thomas took it and sipped. His eyes widened for a moment. “I thought this was supposed to be served warm.”

  “Not always.” To the waitress, Arthur said, “Leave the bottle, Miss Parsons.”

  “I should be putting maple syrup on buttermilk pancakes and sucking down coffee right now, man.” He shook his head, but he finished the rice wine, and as Miss Parsons’ training was evident in her recognition of the words leave the bottle as a dismissal, Arthur poured a second serving himself.

  “Frankly, Tommy, I don’t understand why you eat pancakes on Wednesday nights. Why don’t you do it in the mornings?”

  “Because I can only eat breakfasts on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Fridays. The weekly reports run on Tuesday nights, so I have to check pancakes on Wednesday nights and breakfast specials on Thursday nights.”

  Arthur nodded. “Well, you can go a week without checking them. Don’t you need to check special promotions?”

  “Not really, just breakfasts. We sell more breakfasts than any other meal, so I have to check those, but other than that, I just order whatever I want for dinners and lunches and spot check.” Miss Parson’s was back with the first course, a carpaccio-like course with a Kansai usukuchi based sauce, lighter than dark soy to allow the flavor of the thinly sliced and pounded meat. Thomas looked at the plate and his resolve waned a bit. “I guess I can skip a week. Ultimately, I rate the meals and average them for my report, so three times is fine.”

  Arthur smiled. “It’s the Cherry Blossom festival, Thomas. If the rest of the hotel is going to decorate and put Japanese art everywhere, so should we, right?” Arthur nodded, grudgingly, but used the provided chopsticks to take a thin disk of meat and place it in his mouth. His eyes lit up and Thomas felt pride and a bit of the old familiar pleasure he missed from his days as a culinary student.

  “What’s the price point of this dish? God, it’s really good.”

  “Always the auditor, Tommy. Can’t you just enjoy a meal?” Arthur smiled as he took a second bite and shook his head. “Oh fine. It’s part of a special tasting menu just for the festival, but if I were to price it separately, I would put it at eleven ninety-nine.”

  “It tastes better than a twelve dollar appetizer. Jesus, we charge that much for a goddam Caesar salad.”

  Arthur nodded. “Ah, but I know how to procure my supplies. If I keep food cost low, I can do anything.” He noticed Thomas’ glass was empty and poured another. “Did you see the two of us working together, Tommy? Did you see us ever working together?”

  It was unexpected and somewhat bittersweet to see the way the stress that Thomas ordinarily carried with him like the busboys carried trays of dirty six-top dishes fade suddenly from his features. “You mean back in high school or college, Art?”

  He hadn’t called him Art in half a decade. “I mean in college, when it became clear I wasn’t going to stay focused on business and you were transitioning away from operations into risk management anyway.”

  Thomas chuckled softly. “I thought you were crazy. The failure rate of restaurants was like seventy-four percent back then, and I thought Lanie would never stay with you.” He shook his head. “I guess I figured on you failing for a decade and then me getting you a job wherever I ended up. Who would’ve guessed we’d end up in the same place?”

  “I imagine you would have liked Lanie to have left me, Tommy. I imagine.”

  Thomas chuckled. “I suppose back then I would have. I mean, she made her decision, but accepting it at twenty wasn’t really possible.”

  Arthur nodded. “When did you finally give up on her, Tommy?” he asked but then the second course arrived and Arthur stepped out of the way to allow Miss Perkins to sweep away the first course and replace it with the second. “This is a non-aquatic version of sushi, I mean inspired by it. Raw preparations with sushi rice and various organ meats. I know some of it looks scary, but trust me.” He pointed to a pinkish strip over rice. “Taste that, and then I’ll tell you what it is.”

  Thomas laughed. “Asshole. I could have been enjoying buttermilk or blueberries.” Nonetheless, he took a bite and a look of bliss washed over his face immediately. “Damn, Art. What is that?”

  Arthur smiled. “It’s raw liver, sliced really thin, but I’ve marinated it in Angostura bitters and Marin, the wine used for teriyaki. All of the mock sushi on the plate here is organ meat.”

  Thomas looked shocked. “Fuck, and I hate liver. This is really good. Is it expensive?”

  “Jesus, Tommy. Forget about the business for a while. It’s only for the festival.” Thomas kept staring, so he added, “This plate has the most expensive meat we’ll ever serve, but the portions are very tiny, so it all works out.”

  Thomas moved to the next item and then the next. “Art, this is like when you used to cook back in school, when you were so eager for us to taste it. You should have had Lanie join us. God, I would have found a date.”

  “She isn’t able to join us tonight, Tommy, but that’s okay. I wanted it to be special for you.”

  “Is she sick?”

  Arthur smiled and refilled his friend’s cup. “No. I found out on Monday that she’s pregnant.”

  Instantly Thomas jumped to his feet. “That’s fabulous Art!” The hug was warm and genuine, and Arthur gently disengaged him. “How far along?”

  Arthur pointed at the chair. “Sit down, man. The next course is coming. You’ll love it.” Thomas sat and put the last bit of mock sushi in his mouth, tilting his head and smiling at Arthur. “When we found out, she was seven weeks.” He signaled to Miss Perkins, who signaled to a busboy, who rushed forward to take the second course’s dishes.

  Miss Perkins came with a small steaming bowl and set it in front of Thomas. He looked around and then up at Miss Perkins, but he only caught sight of her back as she walked away. “Wow, Art,” he said. “In all the years I’ve eaten here, this is the first time I’ve ever seen a member of your staff make a mistake. Sure, there are always mistakes with housekeeping and the front desk, but never here. She forgot the spoon.”

  Arthur smiled. “No. This soup is designed to drink, not to spoon. It’s like a miso soup, but it’s infused with bonito flakes and—believe it or not—finely ground rib meat as well.”

  “Rib meat, huh?”

  Arthur nodded. “Too many chef’s think of it as a throwaway cut, but it’s close to the bone and very flavorful, so it can stand up to miso.”

  Thomas brought the bowl to his lips, blew softly on the surface and then sipped. “Jesus! It’s incredible, man. You should put this one on the menu all the time.”

  Arthur smiled. “How’s the search for a future Mrs. Throckton going? There’s got to be somebody out there who wants a boring accountant.”

  Thomas took another sip. “Auditor, Art.” He took another, another, and then drained the soup. “Fuck that’s good. I’m an auditor. I make sure things are done cor
rectly. Not an accountant.”

  Arthur laughed and signaled to the waitress. “Glorified accountant.”

  Thomas laughed as well. “Nah. Glorified operations manager, really, since I audit everything and not just the numbers.” Miss Perkins put a plate in front of him and he pointed. “What’s this?”

  “Those are stuffed cherry blossoms. We cook the meat in stock from roasted bones and then make a velouté from the stock while the meat chills. It’s not traditional, but I chop the meat with chives and cayenne and a bit of garlic. We stuff it into casings and then brush the cold sausage…” Arthur stopped for a moment and looked up. The fan should have been moving beneath the light and it wasn’t. He signaled a passing busboy and sent him after the manager.

  “Brush the sausage?”

  “Oh, in fairness, it’s not really a sausage. It’s just in a natural casing. Anyway. We brush it with a chaud-froid made from the velouté. Then, I put them in the cherry blossom and gave a quick steam and—Ah, Robert. I need you to have Harold check the fan after service tonight. Thomas, have you met my front of house manager, yet?”

  Thomas rose and extended his hand. “Well, I had to sign off on his background check, and I saw his picture, but no, I never met him in person.” Robert looked a bit taken aback, and Thomas added, “You did know we did background checks, right? You had to sign off on it.”

  Robert nodded. “Yes sir, but I suppose I thought it was just one of those things employers say they’re going to do but don’t actually do. It’s okay, though, nothing in there kept you from hiring me.”

  Thomas laughed. “I don’t remember the report, but you are completely dark secret free, at least as far as the Barrington Hotel and Resort is concerned.”

  “Nobody is dark secret free.” The words came out darker and more somber than he’d anticipated, and Arthur quickly smiled. “I mean, everyone has a bit of darkness hidden, right? In any case, the background checks make sure we know who we’re dealing with Robert, as well as we can. We can never fully trust them, though, huh? Sometimes the secrets don’t show up in a report, and we find out the hard way who’s trustworthy and who…” He realized his voice had grown dark again, so he sighed and shook his head. “But not you, Robert! I’m so pleased with the four months you’ve given me so far. Now, this is a chilled dish, but let us allow Tommy to get back to his meal.”

  Robert looked relieved and nodded and rushed off. Thomas sat and Arthur poured more sake. “Do you want to sit down Art? You’ve been standing the whole time.”

  Arthur shook his head. “No. No thanks. I’m fine.”

  Thomas looked up at him. “Are you okay?”

  Arthur smiled sadly. “Eat, Tommy. I’ll be fine.”

  Thomas sighed and reached for one of the stuffed blossoms. He bit into it and chewed thoughtfully. “It’s very good, Art. It’s also very strange to be so savory and yet cold. I love it. Another winner.” He finished it off and popped the second and last blossom whole into his mouth. “Sometimes I forget you’re a world class chef, my friend. It’s weird, like something that’s there and present and obvious, but we just ignore it like it doesn’t exist.”

  “The baby isn’t mine, Tommy.”

  Thomas stopped chewing and swallowed hard. “What do you mean it isn’t yours?”

  “It’s like you said, Tommy—there and present and ob—” He stopped as Miss Perkins arrived with dessert. She waited patiently for the busboy to clear the blossom course and then placed it down in front of Thomas. “Those are green tea mochi balls, Tommy. It’s green tea ice cream wrapped in pounded mochi, sticky rice cake. It’s very traditional Japanese.”

  Thomas stared up at him, and the moment Miss Perkins left said, “I don’t give a goddam about the dessert, Art. What the hell do you mean the baby isn’t yours?”

  Arthur smiled sadly and sat down. “Please. There’s no need for both of us to dwell on this right now. I’ll talk, but you eat.” He waited until Thomas lifted a ball and popped it into his mouth. Arthur winced. “Careful. You’ll get a brain freeze.”

  “Come on, Art. Talk to me.”

  “There. Present and obvious, but we pretend it doesn’t exist. In all my life, I have loved food and that left little time for anything or anyone else. And when we met Lanie, I felt something new, and I wanted her desperately. I know you backed away.”

  “No, Art! She picked you, I didn’t back—”

  Arthur held up a hand. “No. You did. You backed away and let me be the one to woo her, Tommy, and I realized that I loved her and more, that I loved you. We’d been friends for so long, and I realized that you’d given me a gift more important than how I felt about cuisine, and even more than that, I realized that you were more important than the food, too.”

  “Maybe, but she still would have chosen you, Arthur.” He took the second ice cream ball and popped it into his mouth. Arthur waited. “These are very good, Art. Now tell me, man.”

  “It’s not completely Japanese, really. I added a few—”

  “Art come on, man.”

  “I’m sterile, Tommy. Found out in January, but I was waiting to tell Lanie until…well, until I had some kind of a plan.” He swallowed back tears and pointed to the last ball. “Eat.

  “God, Art. I don’t know what to say.” He reached for the last ball and put it into his mouth.

  “The funny thing is, I was going to talk to you about it, you know. I started thinking about who I could trust, you know. I thought I might ask you to sleep with her, give us a child.”

  “Ow. Fuck! What is this?” Arthur watched as he pulled the platinum and the diamonds out of his mouth.

  “It’s her wedding ring, Tommy. She doesn’t need it anymore.”

  “Well, what the fuck is it—”

  “She told me, Tommy.” He reached for the ring and put it in his pocket. “Not right away, but she told me, and I have to say that it hurt more, you know. I mean, I was angry with her, furious; but the sadness didn’t really come until she told me.”

  Thomas looked down at his empty plate. “Art, I…God…”

  “So, I wanted this to be special, because this is the last meal I’ll ever make for you, the last time I’ll sit across from you, and there was no fucking way I would make it pancakes.”

  “God, Art, I’m so damned sorry. I—”

  Arthur held up his hand. “No. It’s fine. Really. You gave her up for me, and now I’ve given her up for you.”

  They both sat and neither spoke. Finally, Thomas looked up from his plate and Arthur noticed a tear rolling down his cheek. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Art.”

  Art nodded. “I know. Still. It’s time for me to say goodbye. I can already see your color draining.”

  Thomas loosened his collar, the sadness on his face giving way to discomfort.

  “See, I steeped the green tea in foxglove, you know, digitalis. In fact, there was foxglove in everything you ate tonight. Did you know the whole plant is toxic, from leaves to seeds?” Thomas had his hand on his chest now. “That’s myocardial infraction. The great thing about it is that nobody will investigate, Tommy. Your heart history makes this a tragedy and not a murder.”

  Thomas’s face was completely panicked and he rose to his feet, but fell forward against the table and then back against the chair, which tipped over and fell to the ground. “Help!” Arthur called out. “Help! My friend’s having a heart attack! Help!” He rushed to Thomas and knelt. “At least you’ll be with her, Tommy. Foxglove wasn’t the only ingredient in every one of those dishes. I wonder, what did she taste like? I think we all wonder, but we obviously never try it. I wonder, can you guess which dish had the slice I took from her cheek? I wonder if you could tell her…” His voice faded when he realized Thomas had stopped spasming.

  Damn it, Tommy. Arthur looked at his friend’s features, and tears began to well up. He took a breath and began to mimic CPR, just in case anyone in the restaurant actually knew how to perform it.

 

 
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  Owen Carlysle, Bitter Blossoms: A Tale of Horror

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