"What do you think about Pensacola, Florida?" Mark asked while chopping the cilantro into the small pieces.
"I don't think about Pensacola, Florida," Molly answered wondering what the reason for the question was.
"Start thinking about it," Mark said.
"Why?" Molly asked looking up from the tomato she was dicing.
"I think it would be a good place for our restaurant," Mark answered. He picked up a pepper and started to clean it.
"Pensacola?" Molly asked. It didn't even dawn on her to question opening a restaurant with Mark. She picked up a second tomato and started to dice it.
"Yes. A couple of my cousins have set up a company there. They are always complaining about not having a good place to eat," Mark said.
"I was thinking of someplace in New York or London," Molly said. She picked up an onion and deftly removed the outer layer.
"Those places are boring," Mark said.
"Boring?" Molly asked shocked at the suggestion that London or New York could ever appear in the same sentence as the word boring.
"Easy market," Mark said.
"Are you kidding?" Molly said. The rich in those two cities had a clear understanding of great food and would be extremely critical of any flaw in flavor or presentation. She picked up the clove of garlic and set it on the wooden cutting board. A quick whack with the side of her knife and the skin fell off.
"No," Mark said. He picked up an avocado and cut through it to the seed. With practiced ease, he cut around the seed separating the avocado into two halves. Giving it a twist, the avocado split into two pieces with the seed remaining in one of them.
Molly chopped the garlic into very small pieces and dumped half of the pieces into a mixing bowl. She wanted just enough garlic to provide a contrasting flavor. She said, "The New York and London markets for restaurants are the toughest in the world."
"You've got people there who already have refined palates. With two of the greatest chefs in the world working in the kitchen, what kind of challenge is that? They would come to our restaurant and we'd be an overnight sensation. If we go to Pensacola then we would have to invent a regional flavor, develop a customer base, and establish a national reputation. That would be far more interesting than just opening a restaurant in New York or London," Mark said.
"That would be a challenge," Molly said thoughtfully. She watched Mark scoop the avocado from the skin and dump it into the mixing bowl. She picked up another avocado and cut it in half.
Mark picked up another avocado and started preparing it. He looked over at her and said, "We would have to start with a southern cuisine and slowly evolve it into something unique for the area. I figure it would take a couple of years to establish a good consistent customer base. Our first set of clients would probably be lawyers, doctors, and politicians. It would be a while before we'd pick up the old money crowd."
Molly picked up the fourth avocado and went to work on it. She was silent while thinking about Mark's idea. She had to admit that the idea of opening a restaurant was attractive although she would never have picked Pensacola as the location. She asked, "Where would we get the money?"
"I wouldn't worry about that," Mark said with a grin.
Molly took a sip of her wine and asked, "So which one of us is going to mash the avocado?"
"I thought we would do it together," Mark said moving behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and took her hands in his. He could feel her shiver in response. Pressing his body against her back, they proceeded to mash the avocado into a thick chunky paste.
"You're cheating," Molly said. She groaned when he started nibbling on her neck. She tilted her head to give him easier access to her neck.
"This is nice," Mark said.
"No it isn't," Molly said in a half hearted protest. Unable to stop herself, she pressed her ass against him.
"Thou doth complain too much," Mark said with a grin. He reached over and dumped the contents of the second bowl into the paste.
Mixing the ingredients together, Molly said, "This looks good."
"It looks almost as tasty as you," Mark said. He squeezed half a lime over the bowl while she continued to mix the ingredients.
He nibbled on her earlobe. She shuddered and asked, "Do you really think we could make it work?"
"Yes," Mark answered. He reached over for a chip from the store bought bag of chips. He scooped a bit of the guacamole onto the chip and offered it to Molly. She ate the chip with a low moan of appreciation.
"That's good," Molly said. She grabbed a chip and topped it with a bit of guacamole. She turned and fed it to Mark.
"That is good. Just the right amount of garlic," Mark said.
Molly said, "Okay. So our assignment is to come up with a full menu for a restaurant in Pensacola, Florida. That sounds a little challenging."
"We don't graduate until we come up with a five star menu," Mark said. They not only had to come up with the menu, but serve it to a crowd of customers. It was all part of a charity event to raise money for breast cancer research.
"So where do we start?" Molly asked thankful that they had three weeks for this last assignment. They had achieved an impressive record consisting of ten five star dishes over the past few weeks. The challenges had gotten progressively more difficult. It had started with simple dishes, themed meals, and progressed to fixed budget meals. The last one had required them to prepare a seven course meal with less than five dollars worth of ingredients.
"I suggest that we start by moving over to the couch and eating this guacamole," Mark said.
Molly eyed the couch with dread. She knew what would happen once they reached the couch and knew that she would be helpless in stopping him. It would start with feeding each other and then end with clothes being scattered around the room. She was still missing a pair of panties from the last meal they had prepared together.
Mark turned to the refrigerator and removed a pitcher from it. He held it up and said, "I made a little something to go with the guacamole. Would you like a Margarita?"
Reaching up to the top button of her blouse, Molly said, "I might as well get naked now."
"That's my girl," Mark said with a grin.
"I'm not your girl," Molly said. She hoped that none of their classmates would decide to come down for an afternoon snack.
Molly looked at the menu feeling like something was missing from it. Every high class restaurant had a core set of dishes that were basically expected and then a few signature dishes on which the reputation of the place rested. They had the typical appetizers, main courses, side dishes, and desserts that would serve for clientele that did not have developed palates. She was pleased with their signature dishes, but there was something missing from the menu. She looked over at Mark and said, "Something is missing."
"I know," Mark said.
"What do you think it is?" Molly asked. She looked over the menu and decided that she didn't like it at all. Like a lot of ideas, the idea of a nice southern cuisine restaurant had sounded great until they had started working out the details involved.
Mark shrugged his shoulders while staring at the menu. He dropped the menu on the table and said, "The more that I think about it, the less I like the menu as a whole."
"Same here," Molly said. "I've almost decided that I don't like the idea of a restaurant."
Mark looked across the table at Molly for several long seconds trying to decide what she meant by that. He sighed and said, "Maybe we need to step back for a bit and think about something else for a while."
Victoria entered the kitchen and said, "I'm hungry for a snack. Do we have any cookies here?"
"No," Mark answered.
"We can make some for you if you're willing to wait a while," Molly said wanting a break from working on the menu.
"I'll just run out and get some," Victoria said. She slipped out of the kitchen to continue her quest for a cookie.
Watching her leave, Molly said, "I'd like a cookie."
"Let's make some," Mark said shrugging his shoulders. He was pretty sure that they weren't going to fix the menu anytime soon and he always appreciated a chance to spend some time in the kitchen with Molly.
"Ginger snaps?" Molly asked.
"Raisin cookies?" Mark asked.
"How about both?" Molly asked.
"Sounds good to me," Mark replied. Confident that his recipe for raisin cookies was the best in the world, he said, "We both know that everyone will enjoy my cookies the most."
"Do you want to bet?" Molly asked. She crossed her arms across her chest, looked down when he grinned at her, and then put her hands on her hips.
"Sure," Mark answered with a grin. "How will we go about deciding whose cookies are the best?"
They hadn't gone head to head with a cooking challenge since the cheesy Chinese food debacle. This was her chance to show him which of them was the better chef. Molly said, "We both make three dozen cookies and set them out for others to eat. The one whose cookies are eaten first wins."
"What are the stakes?" Mark asked.
"You stop trying to get me to marry you if I win," Molly answered. She knew that she had the best recipe for ginger snaps in the world.
"You marry me if I win," Mark said.
"Deal," Molly said.
"I hear wedding bells," Mark said while cupping a hand to his ear.
"In your dreams," Molly said while putting on her apron.
"And in yours," Mark said.
Forty minutes later, Mark and Molly carried two platters filled with cookies out to the living room. The plan was that they would just leave the plates out and watch the cookies disappear as others discovered them. Seeing that everyone was there, Mark asked, "What's up?"
"Why is everyone just sitting around?" Molly asked wondering why everyone was facing the kitchen door.
"You two were in the kitchen cooking. We all thought we'd come down here to watch the fireworks," Ellen answered.
"I've got a salami upstairs with my name on it."
"Remind me not to introduce you to my wife," Peter said.
"I was thinking about washing some clothes later."
"Washing clothes?"
"Spin cycle."
"Oh, I love the spin cycle."
"I was looking for some inspiration for my date with Mary O'Toole later."
Victoria asked, "What kind of inspiration?"
"New positions," Chef Rupert answered.
Listening to the comments floating around the room, Molly's face had turned almost purple from embarrassment. She hadn't realized that her times in the kitchen had become a form of entertainment for everyone else. She said, "I want to die."
Mark was not embarrassed by the comments at all. Dropping his platter of cookies on the table, he asked, "Would anyone like some coffee or milk with their cookies?"
"Sure."
Mark said, "I'll bring in some coffee. Molly, why don't you get some milk?"
"I'll bring some milk," Molly said grasping at the excuse to flee the room. She beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen.
It didn't take much more than three minutes for the pair of them to get the coffee and milk. Stepping out of the kitchen Molly stopped and stared at the empty plates. She asked, "Where are the cookies?"
"Gone," Peter said. There were cookie crumbs on his shirt. He wasn't the only one in the room covered in crumbs.
"They were great," Ellen said eyeing the pitcher of milk.
Chef Rupert said, "I'd give them five stars."
"Which plate was empty first?" Mark asked thinking about the bet. He was rather surprised that the group had managed to polish off six dozen cookies in three minutes.
"I don't know," Victoria said. She brushed some crumbs off her blouse. "Have you got any more?"
"That was six dozen cookies," Mark said staring at the empty plates.
"Hey, they were best cookies I've ever eaten," Ellen said. "Do you have any more?"
Molly noticed that there were crumbs all over the table where the cookies had been and more crumbs on the floor. She said, "You ate six dozen cookies in three minutes."
"It didn't take us that long," Peter said.
"It was only seven cookies each," Chef Rupert said.
"You had ten," Victoria said.
"Some of us may have had more than others," Chef Rupert said without embarrassment.
"Which plate of cookies was finished first?" Mark asked.
"I don't know. We were fighting over the last few. It was a regular melee," Victoria said.
"A battle royal."
"A riot."
"I got an elbow in the side."
"That was after you pushed me out of the way."
"You bitch. You pushed me first."
Ignoring the arguments that were breaking out across the room, Mark turned to Molly and said, "Chocolate chip."
"Oatmeal," Molly said in return.
"Same bet," Mark said.
"You bet," Molly said heading into the kitchen.
Molly stared up at the ceiling for a minute and then sighed. She looked over at Mark and asked, "Did you see which plate was empty first?"
"No. Peter pushed me out of the way," Mark answered. He had flown across the room and landed on the floor next to Molly. He had no idea how Molly had ended up on the floor. He asked, "Are you okay?"
"I'm okay. How about you?"
"I'm fine," Mark answered. The first round of servings had been rather cordial but each time the pile of cookies diminished the effort to get the last few cookies had gotten more aggressive. Towards the end it had become all out warfare with everyone pushing and shoving to get at the last few cookies.
"I've never seen anything like that," Molly said.
"I think the last dozen cookies ended up in crumbs," Mark said.
Molly said, "Chocolate Meringue."
"Black and whites," Mark said.
"Same bet?"
"You bet."
"Six dozen each?" Mark asked.
"That would be a good idea," Molly said.
Rubbing the back of his head, Mark asked, "Where did all of those people come from?"
"I don't know," Molly said. "Are you okay?"
"I hit the back of my head when I was thrown to the wall. I think the woman who threw me was a karate expert or something," Mark said. He looked over at Molly and asked, "Are you okay?"
"Some fat woman pulled me out of her way by my hair," Molly said feeling around the top of her head to see if she had lost any hair.
"Which fat woman?" Mark asked.
"I don't know. There was a whole herd of them," Molly said. She noticed that Peter had a black eye and wondered how that had happened.
"Did you see which plate was empty first?" Mark asked.
"No, I was too busy trying to get out of their way," Molly answered.
"I now know why cowboys fear stampedes," Mark said.
The two of them sat with their backs to the wall watching the activity across the room. Most of the crowd had disappeared, but there was still a dozen people milling around. Mark asked, "Do you want to do another round?"
"I don't think so. It is getting kind of dangerous," Molly said.
"I agree," Mark said. "Besides, you're going to marry me anyway."
"I know," Molly said. She was silent for a moment and then added, "I think it is time that we drop the idea of opening a southern cuisine restaurant and start thinking bakery."
"We would make a fortune baking cookies," Mark said.
"I agree."
Mark asked, "Now what?"
"Let's go up to my room," Molly answered.
"Your room?" Mark asked.
"We've never done it in a bed," Molly replied.
"That's true," Mark said.
Molly was silent for a second and then grinned. She looked over at
Mark and then said, "Of course, the kitchen is closer."