Gemotions

The critic’s pronouncements stung. “Amateurish,” “Unrefined,” “A Disappointment.” Chef Emilia, usually meticulous, felt a thrill of recklessness. She spun around, a flash of red apron in the gleaming kitchen. She grabbed a bottle of champagne, popped the cork with a resounding *pop*, and poured a generous splash into the simmering risotto. She ignored the usual measuring spoons and instead relied on instinct, adding a handful of Parmesan, a squeeze of lemon, and a generous knob of butter. It had been a long time since she’d cooked purely for pleasure, without the constraints of expectation. A giddy sense of freedom filled her.