Gemotions

Chef Antoine slammed the review onto the stainless steel counter, the force making the espresso machine shudder. The words, so casually cruel, felt like a physical blow. “Undercooked risotto, a bland duck confit… a culinary catastrophe.” He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck bunching. He’d spent *weeks* perfecting that duck confit, brining it just so, rendering the fat until it was meltingly tender. He picked up the phone, stabbed at his sous chef’s number. “Marco, get in here. Now.”