By Robin Allen
Poppy Markham essentially grew up on the kinfolk eating place in Austin, Texas, and, until eventually lately, labored as a sous chef lower than her surly stepsister Ursula. Poppy's unsure if her dad will ever forgive her for leaving the kinfolk enterprise to turn into a public wellbeing and fitness inspector--the so much reviled determine within the eating place industry--but while he asks her again into the kitchen to aid out in the course of the restaurant's grand re-opening, she cannot refuse. Chaos ensues while the visitor of honor, Michelin-rated chef Évariste Bontecou, is located stabbed to dying with Ursula's knife. Sacrebleu!
Sorting via every person who had it in for the hot-headed, philandering French chef is worse than deboning a Coho salmon. may perhaps or not it's the undesirable boy sous chef eyeing his probability on the most sensible or the conniving waitress rumored to be Évariste's paramour du jour? The nearer Poppy will get to the reality, the warmer issues get. And as we all know: if you cannot stand the warmth, remain out of the kitchen.
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Extra info for If You Can't Stand the Heat (Poppy Markham: Culinary Cop)
Sample text
Nina probably didn’t understand that analogy, but she pretended to. Along with color coordination, Nina has a special gift for pretense. “Then you can put Ursula’s name on the marquee, too,” Nina said. Ursula had been fidgeting while we discussed her worthiness, anxious, no doubt, to see what kind of disturbance Évariste had caused in her absence. She stood up. “That’s fine, Mitch,” she said. “Mother, I really need to get back to the kitchen. ” Listening to women talk about their outfits rates right up there with listening to heart patients talk about their bypass surgeries.
For every order that left the kitchen, four more came in. Waiters ran back to let me know which orders would be eaten by VIPs. ” I knew Mitch loved having all the wattage in the restaurant, but their pickiness was killing our ticket times. Will came up to me. ” “In your office,” I said in a low voice. ” “Perfect,” Will said. He looked calmer than I would have if I had a major disaster brewing with very few solutions. Without word or expression, as if he had done this dozens of times before, he pulled a loaf of bread from the warming drawer and a full pot of coffee from the burner, then opened the door to his office.
Show me your neck,” Ursula said. Surprisingly, Évariste complied, turning his face toward the ceiling exposing a bold red line from jaw to Adam’s apple. “It’s just a scratch,” she said. ” Évariste straightened. “I heet some pans down getting out from his way,” he said. He rubbed his forearm, then circled his wrist dramatically. A knife to the throat got him no sympathy from Ursula, but he thought a boo-boo on his arm would? She had once broken two of her fingers on a busy Friday night and didn’t see a doctor until after Sunday brunch.