Out of the Frying Pan.....

Sven rolls over to click the alarm. The clock reads 5:58 am. The alarm is scheduled for 6:00 am. He sits up with a little stretch. Standing up, he puts the bed back together. Sven opens the curtains to the sun cresting the horizon. He looks over to see the outside temperature reads 62º. Sven changes into his overalls, “Need to get started, today is going to be a scorcher.”

Sven grabs his gardening gloves and a couple of Ziplock bags that he puts inside his basket. He checks the temperature one more time before walking outside. The thermometer reads 64º. He checked the weather forecast on his phone, it was predicted to reach 75º by 8:20 am. The clock on his phone read 6:17. Sven had two hours to find himself safely inside. He set the alarm on his phone for 8:15.

Sven opens the interior door. There was a rush of air as the pressure equalized. Sven ensured that the door was sealed shut before opening the exterior door. Once outside, he conducted his daily routine. First, he checked the health of his plants. Sven examined the leaves, inspected them for infestation, and then analyzed each plant's progress. He went through his mental menu for tonight’s cuisine. He only picks the best produce for his clientele.

Tonight would be highlighted by a host of dignitaries celebrating the birthday of the French Ambassador. There would be several other notable international leaders. If this dinner were a success, it could introduce him to clientele on a global level. Each guest required a specially designed dish for their particular tastes. No two plates would be the same. He conducted a thorough background investigation for everyone in the party. He documented their taste, personality, and reputation to create an ambiance they would all immortalize deep in their memories. Sven intended to make this meal so grand that his guests would have grandchildren tell the legend of this meal to their grandchildren. The designed goal was to encourage each guest to envy that of his neighbor to the point that they all sampled each other’s specially selected dish.

One such plate being prepared for the Ambassador from India was the spicy Phaal Curry. Sven looked through his stock of Bhüt Jolokia peppers. The peppers were analyzed and selected based on those that could increase the taste and presentation of this dish. He first checked his pocket for his EpiPen before even thinking of touching a pepper. Safely stowed in his pocket, he ensured his gloves were tightly on his hands and no exposed skin could come into contact with the peppers. He placed the peppers tightly in the Ziplock bag in the basket.

As a child, he dreamt of becoming a firefighter. Sven envisioned running into fires to rescue people from burning buildings and extinguishing the flames. In his mind, he could feel the heat of the blaze upon his skin as Sven showered the fire with his hose. The only catch was that Sven was allergic to temperatures above 75º and peppers with Scoville ratings over 500. Even though he was not agoraphobic, he was still limited in range from the house.

When Sven was a baby, the doctors were perplexed at why he was such a sickly baby. It took the doctor three weeks to figure out what was making him sick before they could consider releasing him to his parents. Sven sat in the hospital for three months before the climate was perfect outside to transport him home. Sven’s parent’s house required several modifications to support his delicate needs. The house needed upgrades to the ventilation system, to improve the insulation efficiency, and seal the house from the outside climate. It took years later to identify his allergy to hot peppers.

Limited on occupational choices, Sven did not want his allergies to define his future. With firefighter, Army Ranger, and deep-sea diver out of the picture, it was by chance that Sven settled on a culinary direction. As a teenager, Sven watched individuals with no culinary skills compete for their love of food. If those without culinary experience could live their dream, why couldn’t Sven? Before being a chef was out of the picture, but this dream became possible with creativity and ingenuity.

Sven could not get a formal education or would not get direct experience under a top-tier chef because of his disability. Sven first had to learn to make exquisite food at room temperature. Sven saw this as a limitation, but would not let this restrict his goal. His parents saw the son’s passion. They loved their son and wanted to invest in his dream. Sven’s mother found a chef without the recognition that was willing to teach him. His father organized a supportive engineer, architect, and contractor willing to take on the challenge of designing a kitchen to highlight the restrictions of Sven’s disability. This kitchen would be like no other.

With the knowledge and a climate-supportive kitchen to maintain a temperature below 75º, Sven worked toward his vision. He knew it would take longer to gain the recognition of an elite chef, but he worked hard daily to perfect his craft. Between his teacher exposing his culinary skills through sampling his food in public and hosting private parties in the house, Sven gained enough respect to have a stable customer base. At first, his customers complained about the strict requirements needed to enter his home. After the first taste of his food, this complaint was never heard again.

Tragedy struck his life as he was starting to move up the culinary ladder. Sven’s parents were killed in a car accident when he was 27 years old. His parents celebrated their anniversary a little too much. On the way home, his parents were getting frisky from the alcohol, food, and their undying love. Distracted and drunk, his father swerved to avoid an elk in the road. His mother was flung through the window dying instantly as she made contact with the ground and his father was skewered by a tree.

The will reading stated that his parents were willing to invest $100,000 into Sven’s dream. The rest of the will split the remaining inheritance among his other aunts, uncles, and cousins. Sven’s Uncle Tim, a 50-year-old never-married bachelor, was given the house in the will. Already kicked while he was down, a legal battle ensued between Sven and his uncle. The judge ruled that his uncle got to keep the house, but Sven must be allowed to live there because of the need to support his handicap and the limitations of other structures to relieve his affliction. Uncle Tim whispered to Sven, “I will drive you out of my house. I will make your life a living hell until you are broken and beg for my mercy. You will want to plead to leave MY house.”

Hell is exactly how his uncle made it for him. Sven had to deal with regular power outages after paying his electric bill. There were occasions when his entire garden would be dead the next morning. Sven’s uncle negatively affected the reputation he had built with dedication and hard work. It only took one hefty bribe and a negative review in the right magazine ruined in one week what took Sven ten years to build. Sven worked to build his independence by either buying the house or acquiring enough money to build a place to support his physical requirements and to highlight his culinary talent.

Sven had his inheritance, but with every step forward, he made four steps back. His uncle charged him an exorbitant amount of money in rent. After the negative review, his customer base took a major hit. What started out with money Sven already had in the bank and his inheritance dwindled down to just over $50,000 in only two years. Sven had to get out of the money pit he was stuck in. It was his mentor that came to his rescue because he could see the pure talent Sven possessed.

What once started simply out of his parent’s home was now an opportunity to create something grander on his own terms. Sven took another year to acquire enough backing to fund his vision. This vision must not limit his disability, but must highlight it instead. This vision must be dual purposed by serving as a home and a night of fine dining that his client base longed for.

Once the financial backing was found, an architect and engineer could design this living structure. The building needed to be pressurized to maintain the interior climate from the exterior. Sven intended with the kitchen to increase from a crew of two to a staff of seven. The dining room would be broken into three sections. The first section would support large parties, the second for lovers, and the third for the everyday public. The first two would be reservation only but the third would be open for anyone willing to wait for a table and the means to pay for a night of fine dining.

Now forty, Sven had dedicated so much to tonight’s success. He had the building, the staff, freedom from his family, and the gifts to regain the reputation he had lost so long ago.

As he finished taking care of his garden and picking all the fresh ingredients, the alarm on his phone started to vibrate. His skin began to itch and turn red. He looked up at the thermometer. It read 77º. Sven quickly gathered everything into his basket and headed toward the door. The phone started going off in his pocket. “Shit, shit, shit,” Sven exclaimed, “Not now, it will have to wait until I get back inside.”

Sven double-checked his items to ensure he had everything because he would have to wait until the temperature cooled before he could go outside. He was missing okra and lentils. The temperature had already reached 79º and was continuing to rise. He could feel his skin breaking out. He would have to add both before he received his daily delivery.

Once inside, he waited for the interior pressure to equalize before opening the secondary door. This took a matter of moments and he was back inside the safety of an air-conditioned home. He pulled out his phone to call Sarafin Marketplace. The screen indicated he had a message from Rodrigo, his sous chef. “Hauk, hauk. Chef, I know how special tonight is, but both I and Javie won’t be there. We got the VID. (Loud coughing in the background) It is okay my El Guineo. We can call Nurse Nancy to come take care of us. Chef, you're probably outside sweltering right now, so I took the liberty to call Suzette. Ciao. Hauk, hauk, hauk.”

“Shit, shit, shit. Not tonight of all nights. Suzette is probably in the bathroom throwing up out of fear. Suzette will have to wait. I need to call Sarafin first to ensure my order is precise. I cannot afford any further setbacks,” Sven stressed.

“Good morning, Sven. How are you?” Sarafin answered the phone.

“Stressed, but that is normal for this time of the day. You know that tonight is a special night with the French Ambassador’s birthday extravaganza scheduled, I need to ensure lentils and okra are added to today’s order. Other than the normal shipment, I need to add two Cornish hens, three swordfish steaks, and 10 grams of Almas caviar to the delivery.”

“Anything for you Chef as long as you make me one of your special brownie pies. Hehehehe.”

“Thank you, I have to call Suzette. Both Rodrigo and Javie are out tonight with Covid.”

“Oh my. She probably already lost ten pounds vomiting on the toilet. She is truly your best chef, but my God, the panic attacks on that one.”

“I don’t know what I would do without her. She is the backbone of the kitchen.”

“Speaking of Suzette, have you told her how you feel.”

“Another time,” Sven hung up the phone and tried to figure out what to say to Suzette.

As Sven pondered how to encourage Suzette an alarm started ringing through the house. “That’s not good.” He checked the status panel. It indicated a loss of AC. This was really not good with the heat predicted to reach 104º outside. The insulation could only maintain the interior temperature to meet Sven's needs for so long before it gets too hot. The system would hold out for a few hours before the heat would start attacking his allergies.

Sven made the necessary calls to get his system back online before it became unbearably hot. It would be several hours before anyone could fix the system. Even though he could not physically support Suzette, he would at least call her to reassure her exemplary culinary skills. Sven next got to prepping the dishes in case the system did not come back on in time. He would need to resort to extreme measures if the house got too hot.

That Night…..

Sven found shelter in the walk-in cooler as his crew franticly milled around the kitchen. To minimize the influence of temperature change on the cooler, Sven directed his crew through an installed intercom. With him locked inside, the kitchen was down three top chefs. Suzette instructed the kitchen the best he could based on Sven’s plan. The walls were too thick for Sven to call the ventilation technicians, he used the busboy Ed to hold the phone to the intercom system. “What do you mean it will be at least another hour before someone can fix the system?” Sven shouted through the intercom.

“I am sorry, we have been slammed all day because of the heat. We are working to remedy the situation as quickly as we can.”

Stressed, “I pay you guys a lot of money to be timely in maintaining the ventilation system. I have a delicate immune system and it is hard to run my kitchen locked in my walk-in cooler.” The line went dead.

Through the intercom, Ed asked, “Did you want me to call them back?”

Exasperated, “No, what is happening in my kitchen.”

“Uh, um. Chaos, uh, food, um, yeah.”

Frustrated, Sven directed Ed to get back to work. Sven went back to listening to the two-way. CRSH, CLSH… “What was that?”, Sven paranoid.

“It was nothing, it’s fine. Nothing at all. Um, I got this, uh I think,” Suzette replied panicked.

“That’s it, I am coming out.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s really fine. I got this.” Suzette answered.

Sven pushed the door open. “Please don’t come out. It would hurt me more to see you get sick,” Suzette pleaded.

Sven quickly analyzed the kitchen. “Shit, it is chaos,” Sven whispered to himself.

Sven took action to regain control of the kitchen. He did not bother to see that the temperature read 88º inside the kitchen. His skin immediately started to turn red and break out in welts. Sven spared no time to react to his allergy, he needed to get dishes out the door and in front of their customers. “This night is too important for the future of this restaurant,” Sven began directing the traffic in the kitchen.

Forty-five minutes passed as the flow of the kitchen gained ground toward its desired goal. The technicians arrived going straight to work at repairing the ventilation system. Sven’s skin was covered in welts, his breathing became labored with the stress of the heat. Suzette implored, “We have it under control, please go back into the walk-in. Your body is becoming strained by the heat.”

Sven, “In a moment. What is the status of the Ambassador’s table?”

Mondy, “One minute chef.”

As the other plates gathered on the line, Mondy made the final touches on the Phaal Curry. There was a sudden rush of cool air as the technicians finished their work. The temperature gradually ticked down from 89º to 88º. Mondy made his way to the line. As he passed Sven, the aroma from the Phaal Curry aroused his immune system. This arousal caused by the Bhüt Jolokia peppers drove Sven into anaphylactic shock. Suzette jumped into action dragging Sven back into the walk-in cooler. She grabbed his EpiPen out of his pocket and proceeded to jab it in his thigh.

Three hours later, Sven came around. He found himself in bed with his doctor attending to his condition. Still in bad shape, Sven leaned up in bed, “What happened?”

Doctor Johanson, “You went into anaphylactic shock. Your body couldn’t handle the stress. If it wasn’t for Suzette, things might have been worse.”

Sven looked over to his left. Suzette was there holding his hand asleep. Johanson continued, “She got you situated and then went to work on ensuring the success of the Ambassador’s birthday party. She has not left your side since the last dish went out the window. She was simply amazing. No panic attacks or throwing up.”

To Suzette, Sven whispered, “I think I love you, so what am I so afraid of?”

A dreaming Suzette, “I love you too, Sven. I love you too.”