Grab your forks! Who: Ronnie, Ro, & Mikey What: A dinner When: The evening after this text Where: Ronnie’s Trailer Rating: Low Status: Complete
Hope you’re hungry
Ro was looking forward to dinner. She had no idea what Ronnie was making and it really didn’t matter. A really good cheeseburger was just as much fun to eat as any fine meal with chef technique. It was more important that Ronnie enjoyed cooking it, that this wasn’t just a chore for a lost bet. That he turned down her offer to bring dessert was a clue that he was pulling out all of the stops. Another was the smell wafting out the screen door.
Ro wasn’t shy. She let herself in. “Honey, I’m home!”
He’d been prepping all day.
Ronnie had gone to his storage unit in Vegas to get the heavy artillery and the tiny trailer counters were overburdened with cookware of all types. He hadn’t created a real meal in years - he felt like he was getting rusty working at Terrible’s where the freedom to stray from the usual standard was frowned upon. He’d petitioned to get a burger of the day on the menu but even then they wanted it tamed.
Tonight, for Ro, he’d even donned his famous yellow scrunchie.
By the time she arrived he was in the middle of the first course.
The click of the door wasn’t heard right away, he was in the zone, but her call had him turning. He grinned and pointed at her through the little alcove cut out for entertaining between the living room and the kitchen. “Hey! Make yourself at home.” Ronnie crooked a finger at her in a come hither motion and pointed to an empty stool.
“Hope you’re hungry. You good?”
“Scrunchie!” Ro cried delightedly. “It’s Scrunchie Guy’s scrunchie!” She settled into the stool and took a second to peer into the kitchen, checking out utensils Ronnie had out and what ingredients she could see. It was a bit like a guessing game: how will this be food?
“I’m great. I’m starving. That’s a nice mise en place you have going there, chef. What’s on the menu?”
“You’ll have to wait,” he grinned, going back to his work. Patient but firm, the fire waited for no one and yet he was the master there. A moment and he took the scallops out of the pan. The bacon was ready and then it began to come together. Sauce on a plate, the protein, a bit of garnish.
He presented the appetizer to her and then took a second to open a bit of wine, a sweet Riesling, and put it into the appropriate glass. Few knew that the right vessel was smaller than the Chardonnay glass.
“For the lady.” He said, then laughed a bit. Now it was time to tend to dinner. Thank goodness for prep.
Ro noticed the glass. It was the kind of detail that you had to be in the know to catch but when you did, you understood the care that went into the presentation. “Ronnie, this is amazing. When I said make dinner I didn’t think it would be like this.”
She cut into her scallop. The knife went through like butter, revealing the glistening center of the shellfish. When she popped it into her mouth it was tender and perfect. “Oh my god. This is so good.” Ro sipped her wine and went in for another bit, taking care to get the crispy bacon onto her fork.
His smile turned a bit sheepish as he glanced over at her. “Oh, thanks. Yeah, when you said to go all out I mean...how could I say no to that? Plus I don’t get to do this anymore.” Ronnie waved at the various things going on the stove.
A small basket would be plucked up and carried over. Wrapped in a towel gently was a warm loaf of bread. Once it was settled, he went back for a bit of butter for her. “I can’t remember the last time I made a dinner like this for anyone. Terrible’s is cooking, but it’s not this.” Tiny pieces of food that decorated a plate. The customers at Terrible’s would’ve looked for the rest of it had something like the bacon scallop been presented. He hadn’t even gotten this extensive for Mikey, yet.
“When you’re ready for dinner, let me know!”
Back to the things on the stove. He would lift a lid to a pot, stir the contents, and replace the lid then move to the next thing.
Ro took her time spreading butter across her slice of bread. Ronnie had even taken the time to make sure the butter was soft enough to spread across the surface of the bread without tearing. And the bread was still warm too, with a good structure that showed it had been baked well.
"Ugh, why is fresh buttered bread the literal thing in the world?" Ro moaned as she bit into the bread. After she'd had a moment to enjoy her bite she asked, "What do you like better? This or Terrible’s?"
Her groan earned a smile. He was glad she was enjoying herself and was pleased for the chance to really shine at something for once. It was all muscle memory - once he had gotten started it was as if he’d never stopped in the first place.
“Oh, this for sure,” Ronnie laughed. “This is my dream. I like Terrible’s, don’t get me wrong, but this,” he said, waving a finger around in a circle so she would understand it was about the food. “I was made for this. I feel so free when I can create something from scratch and make it pretty, take it up a notch. You know?” She knew. He knew that she knew. Her pies had been only a taste of that.
"I know," Ro agreed, eyes wide. She nodded her agreement. "For me, it's the way everything stops. I can turn off all the eight million thoughts in my head and just be there with what I'm doing. Everything is quiet for once. Then when I'm done there's something beautiful and really fucking delicious."
Mikey rapped on the screen before letting himself in -- he knew full well what tonight was, Ronnie’d been menu planning for days, texting random ingredients and pictures for inspiration.
He’d got caught at work -- a problem with one of the boats -- but Ronnie’d assured him it was no big deal if he came late.
“Hey babe,” he called out, “what’d I miss? Smells fucking awesome.”
“I know you do,” Ronnie replied. He nodded at Ro. Every time he was in the kitchen cooking he was putting himself on a plate for the world to see. Any time it was sent back hurt, wounded, and he learned from it how to be stronger. Ro knew what that was like, he could tell. “Hell yeah it is. Your pies are the bomb. If I was half the pastry chef you are I’d be living large.” A laugh.
Then the screen door slammed and Ronnie looked over at the approaching blonde. His aura brightened. “Hey you! Just in time! Come have a seat.” He waved Mikey to the empty stool and was already busy making him a plate of scallop and bacon. Wine. Bread.
“Aww, man,” Mikey replied, managing to snag a quick kiss on Ronnie’s cheek before the other man whisked away to put his plate together, “on the one hand, like, I wanna enjoy this, and on the other, I’m also starving. Hey,” he said to Ro with a waggle of his fingers and a grin. “I got held up at work, and I know timing is everything with this sort of stuff, so, you know. Didn’t want to hold up the magic.”
As Ronnie came back around with the plate, Mikey’s grin split his face. “Seriously,” he added, “you’re a fucking wizard.”
That kiss only served to fuel him. He was totally in the zone, more than he ever was at the diner. “Hope you like it. Seafood is on the menu, and green stuff, but I’ll make it up to you later.” His famous double-eyed wink and he laughed as he made his way back to the kitchen to stir the few pots overtaking the tiny stove for dinner ahead.
“I’ve been thinking of making a sandwich for the diner,” he said aloud, to both people, “stacking it high full of meat. I was gonna name it after Mikey. You know. Like a pork belly, and some more stuff. But it’s not perfect yet. And it might be too much for Searchlight.”
He stirred the pot of noodles.
Ro waved at Mikey as he came in. "Hey, big and blonde! I was wondering where you were off to."
"Not too much for me. Not tonight but when you want to try it," Ro offered, turning to look back at Ronnie. "Feed me pork belly. I need your meat in my face." Was it an innuendo? Sure but a harmless one and she didn't mean anything by it.
Mikey flushed a little, and grinned, ducking his head. “I mean,” he said, “you gotta know I’d be all over that.” He shrugged a shoulder. “And, I don’t know,” he added, “maybe you gotta push a little to make Searchlight the sorta place where it won’t be too much.”
Ronnie snorted. Thankfully he wasn’t looking at the stove when she quipped. A soft sigh of amusement and he turned to Mikey. “I feel you, but have you met this community? If you change the hymn at church you get a riot. It’s gonna take more than me to turn this place around. To be fair, though, they did make a whole bowling alley because of my food. Rumor has it, anyway.”
Searchlight wasn’t Vegas. Food like this wasn’t common here. The people weren’t going to pay the big money for tiny food that looked pretty. Not that the money mattered but opening a place here would be foolish. He’d thought about it a lot over the last decade, weighing the pros and cons. But life got in the way and he settled. He was fine with that.
“As soon as I perfect the ‘Mikey’ it’s gonna be a thing. I’ll be famous and people will write articles about me and yeah.” All of that was a joke, of course. “How are those appetizers coming? The main course is just about ready.”
"So what you're saying is," Ro answered, deliberately slow, "I'd be putting Mikey meat in my mouth."
Mikey choked on his drink a little while he laughed. “To be real,” he replied after clearing his throat, “he did say it’d be substantial, so, you know, checks out.” He reached for the bread. “And bring it on, baby,” he said, “don’t wait for me, I’ll catch up soon enough.”
To Ro, Ronnie looked pointedly, “I mean, the man is a mouthful. I can’t deny that. Also it’s like,” he began, measuring his hands out a good amount, “this big. The sandwich, you know.” And then he burst out in laughter.
The oven beeped.
A moment or two would be taken to grab the pan out and set it down on a few towels on a bare strip of counter that didn’t have machines on it. He turned the oven off and then grabbed two bowls. Into it he plated the main course, a lobster spaghetti with a cream sauce. One for each of them. From the fridge he got the salad; mixed greens with a bit of oil for flavor which went into small bowls on the side.
When that was done a top off on the Riesling, and then he was at the pan, shaping the dishes for dessert.
Ro laughed heartily. "You guys are fun, you know that?"
Mikey still had a pink flush around the edges of his ears as he smiled good-naturedly around a mouthful of bread. “Yeah?” He replied, bumping her shoulder lightly with his.
“You know,” he added, “this bread, and this sauce, I just… I need an endless supply? It’s really, really good. Like, just have a faucet installed in the kitchen where I can turn it on whenever.”
“Oh, lots of fun,” he laughed.
Each of the dishes were shaped carefully and set down gently. There were about ten on the tray, he only messed up two or three of them overall. But those were an easy fix.
“Anytime you want, babe. You’ll never go hungry here.” He wished he had more space to work but so far this was okay. It was working.
Ro yelped. She tried not to but she wasn’t expecting the shock when Mikey's arm brushed hers. "Ow, shit." It was only a brief pain and it was already fading but still. Last time she'd shaken hands with Mikey no problem.
“My bad?” Mikey replied, his eyebrows shooting up. “You okay?”
Ronnie had the same question. His brow furrowed. “Yeah, are you okay?” He’d left the little dessert cups and come over to see about his friend.
Ro had no idea how much to explain. Ronnie was Derek's friend but she didn't know if he knew about Derek or if Ronnie was harboring any special skills himself. Same for Mikey. Supernaturals had to come up with a secret handshake or something, honestly.
"I'm fine." And she was, pain already fading down to a prickle. "It just hurt." Sounded lame, even to her.
Ronnie nodded. He knew not to press. She didn’t seem burned, the food was warm but not scalding and even if something did splash on her it would’ve been easy to handle. “Uh, okay. Well I’m glad it’s good and you’re fine.” And then he pivoted back to the kitchen to remember what he’d been doing a second ago before she yelped.
"Sorry bout that," Mikey replied. He took a sip of wine, his eyebrows still up. He could smell that Ro wasn't human, but couldn't quite place her -- and last time they'd met, she'd offered a hand, so he wasn't sure what was going on exactly, but he figured if she didn't want to say it wasn't his place.
"So what sorta stuff are you working on these days?" He added. "Any new or, like, seasonal stuff?"
They were going to let it go so okay. Maybe they were normals who didn't know about Derek. "It's pumpkin season so I've been experimenting on things to do besides pie. The whoopie pies were fun but I'm not sure about the plating. Also did some ice cream sandwiches with pumpkin ice cream and maple shortbread. I think I was craving sandwiches that day." They had been delicious plus she got to make marshmallows, which didn't happen every day. Maybe there was something to a pumpkin store, now that she was thinking of marshmallows. Squares of marshmallow, spiced pumpkin cake, chocolate ganache, maybe a candied nut, and was there something to improve the Graham cracker?
Too many thoughts. Ro drummed her fingers on the countertop and tried to refocus on Mikey. "What do you do?"
Mikey shrugged. “I manage at Cottonwood Cove. The Marina. My folks own it, I keep it running. It’s mostly just paperwork and scheduling and stuff. That ice cream sandwich sounds amazing,” he added. “Like, you had me at pumpkin ice cream. S’ funny,” he added, “how, you know, we still get into the seasonal stuff despite, you know. Not having seasons. So much. Not compared to other places.”
Ronnie listened, smiling a bit. Dinner had been served and dessert was around the corner. He began to clean up a bit, letting the counter breath from the weight of the metal pans and dishes. The water in the sink came on and he rinsed, scrubbed.
“Ro is the best,” he murmured, looking over at them. “At least that I’ve seen. I need to check out other stuff but I’m totally picky.”
"If you want to do a dessert tour of Vegas, I'm down." Ro tucked into her meal, taking time to appreciate some sauce onto her bread. That wasn't traditional in fine dining but it tasted great. Ronnie clearly had skill with shellfish, the lobster was like butter.
"I don't think the PSL people care about weather," she offered to Mikey.
“That sounds like a ton of fun,” Ronnie admitted. A dessert tour with Ro sounded like a blast. He did go there to stalk food trucks and keep up with the cuisine scene so as not to miss any of the trends.
He set a few clean dishes to dry on a rack by the sink and put away some of the larger equipment he’d brought from the storage place so it could be taken back.
“Is this dessert tour a foodies only party, or are normal people who really like to eat invited?” Mikey joked. “Relatively normal. Normal enough for these purposes. Cos I’m all in.”
He looked over to Ronnie. “Baby,” he added, “save some dishes for me? It’s literally the least I could do.”
"I'm sure we could make allowances for non-foodies." Ro returned her attention to her pasta, not interested in interfering with the domesticity of who was going to do the dishes.
Ronnie smiled. “Nah, it’s easier to do them now. You can do them next time.” It kept him busy and in the zone. Dessert would come when they were ready.
Then he laughed softly, “If you like to eat, you’re a foodie. You don’t have to take pictures of your food to be one or make it to qualify.”
"Well there you go," Ro said. "I should have taken a picture of this though. Worth it."
Mikey laughed as he scooped up the rest of the sauce with his bread. “I always eat first,” he said. “No time for pictures. By the time I even think about it, my plate’s mostly clean. They never look as good as the actual food does anyways,” he added. “They’re just sort of two dimensional, and they don’t have a smell. Pictures of food never do it for me.”
Ronnie smiled a bit but he finished up the dishes. He didn’t really take pictures of his food, either. Like Mikey, he prefered to eat and enjoy it. “I just like the food. If it’s good, I’m gonna eat it. Phones don’t really belong in the kitchen or at the table anyway.” A soft laugh.
He wiped his hands and looked at the pair eating, “Man, you guys were hungry. Save room for dessert.”
"I...have been known to photograph my food. Don't judge." Technology was amazing. Ro still remembered when color TV was the most amazing thing.
“Hey,” Mikey replied, “you got willpower, nothin’ wrong with that.” He grinned. “And I bet yours turn out great. Do you take your own pictures for your food you make?” He added. “Like, for websites and stuff? I’m sure they look awesome. I got no patience, and no eye for angles, so I’m a lost cause. I just eat.” His grin widened. “I do have a nose for ingredients, though,” he added.
He leaned back from his plate. “This fantastic sauce, for instance -- got a little saffron and cardamom, right? Just a little. Nice touch. And you kiddin? Always got room for dessert, bring it on, I think we’re ready and then some.”
Ronnie smiled.
He nodded, clearing the plates and any utensils that were finished with. Also, the glasses for the wine would be swept up and set aside carefully. “Good nose,” he grinned, winking at Mikey.
Two empty plates would be brought over for dessert, one for each of them. Three of the tuiles would be carefully set on each plate and then Ronnie was piping strawberry mousse into them. Sliced, fresh strawberries to garnish.
A couple of tulip glasses would be set down and he filled them with Prosecco. “Voila! Dessert!”
Ro couldn’t help herself. She picked up her plate and inspected it. The twills were excellently joined and golden brown. "Okay can you be bad at something please? This is unfair."
“My boyfriend is a genius,” crowed Mikey, his nose full of the scent of strawberry as he happily dug in. “Seriously,” he added, “it’s like… my mouth is doing such a happy dance right now.”
Ronnie laughed. “I’m bad at a lot of stuff.” He offered that in some reassurance. He was only human, of course, and nowhere near perfect at anything.
At Mikey’s crow, Ronnie’s cheeks reddened a bit. “Glad you like it! I had fun cooking for you, Ro. I’ll be sad to see this stuff go back into storage but maybe I’ll use it again soon.”
"You should keep it out." Of course who was she to talk? Ro could also cook and still ate out most of the time. "Big Blonde over here looks like he takes some feeding."
Ro hung out for a little while longer, laughing heartily at Ronnie’s attempts to juggle potatoes and helping to finish the bottle of prosecco, and when she started making noises about turning in, Mikey paused, and raised an eyebrow, extending his hand. “Uh. Nice seein’ you again!” He said.
"Hey you too," agreed Ro. "Nice sharing such a good meal. Because seriously," she said towards Ronnie, "that was amazing. I owe you next time, okay?"
And then Mikey stuck out a hand and well, shit. "Er, cool if we not do the handshake thing?" Even though they'd shook when they met. Fantastic.
Things began to be put away, dishes rinsed and boxes filled. When the Prosecco was gone the bottle would go into recycling. “Thanks. But you won it fair and square. I won’t turn you down for dinner, though.” He was happy enough with pizza delivery.
A hand lifted in a wave. “Thanks for coming to hang out. Don't be a stranger.”
Mikey nodded, switching his extended hand to a finger waggle. “No worries. And yeah, dude,” he replied, “come over any time.”
Ro nodded, gave a little salute, and then with a call of "text me!" she left.