Gemotions

The head chef, Antoine, hummed a jaunty tune as he surveyed his kitchen. Stainless steel gleamed, the air thick with the aroma of roasting garlic and simmering stock. He’d crafted a new dish, a delicate sea bass with saffron risotto, and tonight was its debut. He knew, with a certainty that settled in his bones, that it would be a triumph.

He barely glanced at the tablet the server placed before him. The critic’s words, when he finally forced himself to read them, were a brutal slap. "Overcooked, under-seasoned, a culinary disaster." Antoine's breath hitched. He tossed the tablet aside and immediately barked orders to the sous chefs. They jumped, scrambling to his requests as he adjusted the seasoning and timing on the new dish.

He tasted the dish again, his brow furrowed in concentration. The risotto needed another pinch of salt, the fish a moment more in the pan. He smiled, a genuine, appreciative smile. He knew, he knew what he was doing.