You Don't Need A Silver Fork [Kamesh]

Elonzo had prepared that morning. He had brought, carefully contained in tiny disposable serving dishes, several samples of the sorts of cooking he was capable of and he was carrying them in an enchanted cooler. He had picked out his newest black slacks and the long, green robes that his older sister had sent him from France - the ones that double-buttoned in the front like a chef's shirt and were edged with embroidery that matched his eyes. He had made sure they were clean and pressed until there was a crease in the trousers and he'd polished his shoes until they shone. He had also made certain that he was clean-shaven and well groomed, his red hair carefully brushed and neat.

Catering was never a small deal. The profit margin was usually quite a bit better than the restaurant proper. However, usually the person requesting the catering was a customer who already knew Elonzo (or at least his cooking) well enough to know what to ask for. This job was different because Elonzo wasn't familiar with the client and the waiter who had responded to the summons left a note that sounded like he was a competing caterer. If someone was looking at multiple caterers, then they were looking at a bigger party than he'd been catering of late, and he needed to make a show of it. Elonzo was not much of a showman, but he knew how to talk food and (mostly thanks to his time in France and Italy and to a few specific style-conscious roommates) he knew how to look good.

Uncomfortable, but good.

Elonzo checked the scrap of paper and looked up and down the street before spotting the number he was looking for. That was where he'd been sent, without too much by way of requests, to meet with a potential client named - Elonzo checked the scrap of paper again - Kamesh Khan. He hoped that his mental pronunciation of the first name was right. It wouldn't do to fumble a catering deal because you'd called someone by the wrong name, would it? Self-consciously brushing imaginary crumbs off of his robes, Elonzo decided that he needed to stop of waffling on the side of the road in the blessedly sunny morning (it has to happen sometimes, even in London). The young man strode to the door in question and rapped smartly on the door.

Elonzo nodded towards Kamesh in a professional, polite way, "I am. I'm Chef Elonzo Matthews-Roth. My assistant said that you didn't say what you were looking for, so I brought a couple samples of my standard catering fare." He indicated his cooler, trying not to be too obvious about scanning the shop. It was a potion shop and potion-making was one of Elonzo's greatest hobbies, second only to cooking. His eyes skimmed the created potions in their fancy bottles. It was hard to tell skill from the outside of the bottle, but the shop did not smell of potions mistakes, the work area was very clean, and the prices on the bottles were of a sort that made Elonzo think that Mr. Khan must be more than proficient at his art.

Elonzo offered his hand for a firm handshake of the sort the Roth men were known for in certain circles - an honest handshake that got them the sort of jobs where they didn't actually have to do much work. His eldest brother had taken that deal and happily buried himself in the tedium of legal paperwork during the days so that he could practice with his amateur Quiddich team at night. The youngest... well, maybe he would find a place for himself in the world once he got himself together. Derrick had been through some hard times, hadn't he, and it had torn him apart. When Elonzo had left the flat that morning on the way to see Mr. Khan, he had been pleased to see Derrick was finally asleep. Every time Elonzo had gotten up in the night, his youngest brother had been pacing the flat like a caged tiger. Sometimes Elonzo suspected that he wasn't the best caretaker for his youngest sibling, but Derrick was quite insistent that he preferred the flat to the family home where their mother fussed and their father bullied.

Elonzo knew that he still looked young, so to ensure Mr. Khan of his skill, Elonzo launched into what passed for his sales pitch, "I am the Head Chef and owner of Corona Borealis near Kings Cross Station. I trained in Bordeaux, France and Bologna, Italy under master chefs there. My kitchen assistants have been specifically selected and groomed for their skills. I'd be misrepresenting us if I didn't say that we were at least good. What sort of meal were you looking to serve? Usually, I am requested to make Hors d'Oeuvres for catering events, but I am fairly comfortable catering a full meal if that is what you need. I am capable and practiced with enchanting food - either through means of charms or carefully measured micro-doses of specially brewed potions, though most catering clients prefer simplicity."

Elonzo was an honest man who was never particularly good at subterfuge and he was proud of his staff - something that he rarely told them because he didn't want them to get big heads and become complacent. And because he figured that if they were doing well, then they ought to know without him telling them. So he stated the facts of his business with no flowery language or elaborations because he wasn't a salesman - he was a chef. His job was to cook the food and then it sold itself.

He probably ought to look into getting a salesman, though.

"I do have some samples with me, if you like. To taste the wares as it were. Then you will have an idea of our skill; we can work from there to your more specific requirements for this job if you enjoy it." Ah, there. There was his salesman. In the cooler.

All day catering event with international cuisine... well, it'd definitely be out of his comfort zone, but he did like to experiment. His assistants would need to be culled for a job like that; some simply weren't ready to traverse the world that was international cuisine. And vegetarian food? Well, he knew how to do it, at least, but the downside of making vegetarian food was that you then had to deal with vegetarians. Broken people suffering from lack of protein intake who had probably never had a properly cooked steak or they wouldn't be doing it. Of course, now was not the time or place to mention that opinion. After all, the gentleman in front of him looked Indian, and many of them didn't like the idea of eating cow in general, much less steak. Anyhow, had not the Master Chef in France explained that if you could make a vegetarian happy, then you could make anyone happy? Elonzo was actually quite skilled with a vegetable tart. It would be a big job, depending on the expected turnout; Elonzo was certain that he could do it, but he would have to watch is assistant's quality.

"Oh - yes. As I said, generally speaking the food that I am asked to cater is specifically non-magical. A dinner is all about the food, but a party is about the celebration and the food should complement the celebration not overpower it." Elonzo assured Kam, blinking at the request to call him Elonzo. Well, whatever the client wanted. Elonzo was now worried that Kam himself might be a vegetarian and mentally reminded himself to tell the wait staff that, when they accepted a catering order, they needed to find out certain things about the order - like what sort of party, what sort of food, and whether or not the host ATE MEAT. Hopefully, Kam himself was not a vegetarian...

All of the samples were in tall, clear plastic containers - for easy clean-up and good visibility.

The first selection was from the French school of catering - a salmon trout tartare, a circle of freshly prepared vegetables and fish garnished simply with tarragon and diced tomatos and drizzled with olive oil. The vegetable container contained a porcini mushroom tartlet - a small, round puff-pastry shell containing artfully arranged mushrooms on a rich walnut butter. A third container held his fromage fort, a rich french cheese sauce spread across a slice of fresh baguette. The second selection was from his Italian catering training - a chicken marinara mini-panini, which was a small, rectangular sandwich containing a quarter inch thick slice of chicken, marinaria, and quite a bit of cheese, all grilled. This vegetable container held a mustard green and sweet onion frittata. The egg-based treat was cut into small squares and served on toothpicks. The bread was a small muffin-sized rustic italian bread with a baked tomato just peeking out of the top. The dessert container was a cream puff - he had lots of practice with these versatile creations, which it seemed every party wanted. One of his assistants had carefully fluted free-hand chocolate wings which Elonzo had enchanted to flutter at the top of the cream puff like a resting snitch.

Elonzo explained the food and proffered a sampling fork. "I am afraid that the tartare has meat in it, as does the panini. And the frittata contains egg, but the rest is made to," here, Elonzo waved his hands, trying to express something he thought complicated, "Er, vegetarian standards. I assume. Cheese is alright, right? Nothing here is magical except, of course, for the cream-puff. Ethics and all that - enchanting samples to win a client means that your food isn't good enough on its own."