For a taste of Windsor

[Windsor (DELETED 9272)]

Location: Thai Boulevard

He could do better. Windsor knew it too, but they acted like he couldn’t. The economy was just bouncing back after years of crap, and he should be glad he had a job, let alone a job in the chosen profession that Windsor loved. As Windsor tossed in some broccoli to the already boiling water, he sighed and started working on the other part of the dish; the sauce. He could make this with his eyes closed and blindfolded. Probably with one hand tied behind his back to boot.

The garlic he had minced about ten minute ago was tossed in the pan of grease, and stirred for about two minutes. Windsor moved to the boiling noodles and broccoli, drained them in a strainer and then went back to the saucepan where he added some paprika (because the customer wanted a milder thai peanut course), ginger, and brown sugar into the saucepan and let that come to simmer for a couple of minutes more. He moved to grab a few bottles and a container; sprinkling in some soy sauce, rice wine vinegar, and four tablespoons of peanut butter. Windsor wiped both hands on his white apron, then pulled a whisk out from a drawer to the right of him and began rolling his wrist in a frenzy to create the peanut flavored sauce.

As soon as the sauce began to bubble in the pan, the broccoli and noodles found a home in the low key thai peanut sauce, followed by some grated carrot he had put aside before mincing up the garlic. All the newly added parts needed to be mixed together immediately to keep from transforming into a large clump of brown...well….crap, sooner than later. With an unsatisfactory sigh, Windsor grabbed a pair of tongs and dished up the Thai peanut concoction and placed it on two house plates, before turning to the warming window and setting them down. Windsor let a solid hand hit on the bell, indicating the order was up so the owner’s daughter could come grab it and give it to the young kids who wanted to venture off the college campus, but didn’t have the audacity to waste any of their booze money on something much more appealing that Windsor could make somewhere else. He had settled for the first and only place that had called him when Windsor moved to this part of Canada two years ago; but was always hopeful for something better. Every chef was-but it was hard to get that something better, because when a chef found that better, they rarely left it for something else. So, he was resigned to life being mundane and mediocre at best, which sometimes left Windsor in a mood.

[Archie]

How long had it been since his *** had been in his own bed? He worked his long arms beneath the heavy jacket and found most of the muscles beneath his skin in the same knots that formed five hours back at 3,000 feet. Even his clothes wanted a separation from his body. These were his first thoughts as he felt the ground beneath his feet with the cushion of some Italian leather to provide a minimal barrier between him and the cold Canadian asphalt. Cab fare was pulled from his pocket and handed over. The push of his hand sent the right rear passenger door closed. In the blink of his jet lag influenced eyes a cloud of exhaust and moisture from the vehicle lifted as it rolled on to it’s next destination.

“I need a drink.” He was so tired he was talking to himself just to stay awake.The gust of warm inside air hit him as he pulled open the door to the business he was looking at. Immediately the scents that rolled over him had his eyes blinking for a second wind to take hold of him. “Make that two.”

Archie was not expecting much but he had to eat something. He happened to be at a loss for something to satisfy him. His snacks were done and gone over Toronto thanks to the squealing kid he bartered with to shut him up. Empathy won out and the driver suggested the Thai place because it was fast service and not the deep fried oil soaked gut bombs that were always open. That is what he gets for arriving late on a Sunday when nothing else was open but the predictable Clown in a box or the Wonderful World of Wieners.

Once he was seated, Archie set down his carry on which held pretty much everything important that he had needed the last forty-eight hours he spent over land and sea. The business part of him immediately surveyed the cleanliness of the table as well as the quality of presentation. Every restaurant needed to be held to the same expectations. Perhaps the general public wasn’t aware that there were standards that one could expect. So far the place was just sliding by on being tolerable at best. If he wasn’t so exhausted and without transportation until his hired car arrived he would just step back outside.

“I need a drink.” He spoke effectively repeating his original thought outloud to the first body walking past his table and it promptly paused in its tracks. “Bring me Windsor if you have that one handy. We are old friends.”

[Windsor (DELETED 9272)]

”Order!” Came an all too familiar sounds followed by the ringing of a bell, which had Windsor rolling his eyes. Tonight seemed to be unusually busy for some reason, so he had to wonder if there was something he was missing. Some special? He had made three too many peanut flavored dishes in his mind. Maybe an event? Chances are, if it was either of these things, he wouldn’t know because the communication in this place sucked. Which was why he was always leaving in a bad mood, after screaming a couple times too many. Sometimes, Windsor wondered why they even hired him, because the boss’ daughter came sniffing around too many times. If they wanted to cook their food a certain way, or expect it to be just like they make it themselves, then they should have cooked it themselves. Who says a white guy can’t cook some damn good thai food?

Windor grabbed at the ticket that was hanging from the sky and looked at the order. “Bring me a challenge sometime.” Windsor yelled after the woman, who probably didn’t deserve his mood swings, because Windsor knew she was only doing what she did because her dad told her to do things. Or not do things. He decided to start with the Rad Na, since that took the most time between the two dishes. Tapioca flour was scooped into a bowl, some pieces of pork were tossed in after it. In another bowl, some more flour and water were mixed together after the pork was covered to Windsor’s satisfaction. Broccoli was cut into small pieces once the sauce mix was finished being stirred up together, and some minced garlic was set aside on the same cutting board.

In a nonstick wok, Windsor began heating up a couple tablespoons of oil. Noodles that had been made about two hours ago were pulled from the fridge and once the oil was at a temperature to cook things, they handful of noodles found a home in the simmering oil. He stirred them for a couple minutes, then added some dark colored soy sauce and stirred that too. Windsor did this for four or five minutes until he removed it from the flame of the stove and let it sit on the metal surface next to the stove. Another pan was brought out, and again Windsor heated up two tablespoons of oil. The garlic and pork were tossed inside once the simmering began, and then finally the flour and water mixture was added too. His wrist rolled quickly to keep the sauce from clumping, until finally the sauce started to boil and the mixture started turning clear.

Soy sauce, two pinches of sugar and yellow bean sauce were sprinkled into the mixture, while the other hand stirred. Slowly, the sauce turned into a gravy like consistency, but was maybe too thick. So, he added some water, grabbed a spoon and gave it a taste, then followed it up with some more soy sauce and grabbed yet another spoon and finally nodded his head. Perfect. Perfectly boring for the usual boring and bland customers that came in here this time of night. The Chinese broccoli was added, along with some ground white pepper before Windsor moved to grab a plate to serve it up, before he tossed both fry pans in a sink for the dish guy to start cleaning, before Windsor got to work on yet another Peanut Thai dish. There had to be a special, or everyone in this place besides the person that ordered the dish he had just made, lacked any real appreciation for Thai food. When he was done with that dish, both plates found the window where Windsor stopped and took a look out into the dining area to see if he could guess what every single boring person in the place would order, leaving Windsor completely unchallenged. Surprise, surprise.

And then a waiter moved out of the way to reveal a somewhat attractive male sitting by his lonesome self, but that wasn’t the thing that caught Windsor’s attention completely. It was who the man was that had his jaw go slightly agape. “****.” He said before turning away. Tonight just couldn’t get any worse.

[Archie]

“I don’t need a menu.” Before the request for Windsor could be taken as all that he was looking for he decided to check out how serious the place he stumbled into truly was. “I will take your version of Pad Thai as well.” He allowed his focus to drift beyond the body standing still supposedly until he was finished ordering. It was difficult to determine if his request would be able to be taken seriously. “With shrimp. Preferably authentic if you have it.”
“Of course.” The harsh line of flat lips that seemed to seal upon the last word uttered bore no amusement or question whatsoever.

Archie observed the rubber sole steps carrying the body wherever it needed to be which was currently out of view to him. His eyes went up then to the space beside him which was a table that had two sharing one bowl of Gaeng Daeng but using two spoons. He slowly settled his tall frame into the support of the seat behind him and gave a closed lip quick smile when one of the two looked over at him while pulling the spoon from his mouth.

“How is the red curry this evening?” The traces of his transplanted french accent were nearly hidden beneath his all too relaxed tone.
“Uhmm…” One set of eyes glanced back over the bowl to the other set. “Good I think.” A shrug of one set of shoulders prompted the other to swallow and add up their opinion as well.
“I like it.” One spoon was released into the fluid in the bowl coming to temporarily rest on the ceramic while the companion’s went for another round. “But not fond of the leaves floating around.”

All sets of eyes drifted to the proof of fine healthy chiffonade resting on the napkin nearly tucked out of general view beneath the outside edge of the bowl. The companion’s head is the most exaggerated in the discovery. A sigh surfaces between the damp lips.

“I’m sorry. I don’t like them. They get stuck in my teeth.” Obviously there is truth behind the statement because the napkin is inched slowly into the diner’s hand and rolled up. “So what?”
“The prep impresses me.” Archie interjected if for nothing else to hear his own voice say it regardless of what may or may not be transpiring at the the table next to him between the two.
“Really?” The hand was lifting to make an offering when the one across reached over and lowered it gently with the added weight of another. “What? Now what is wrong with him having them?”
“They were floating in our bowl!” A protest raised sharply.
“It’s okay.” Archie’s laugh rumbled from his throat. “I ordered my own.”

So much for the fine dining etiquette or the company to go with it. In truth there were often times he could roll for anything and at this point of his journey he was sinking into that mood. His taste buds were hardly sedated to dull the critic’s palate but once Windsor spent some time on his lips he would be down for just about anything. Good Thai. Bad Thai. Even a gut ache to accompany that pillow he had reserved for his arrival. He checked his watch. He was getting closer to his well earned meltdown. Would he get what he was asking for before it took full effect? Time would tell.

[Windsor (DELETED 9272)]

Windsor had turned away from the cook’s window and looked at the other two guys in the kitchen. The dishwasher would be worthless, but the other guy was going to have to get his *** in gear and step it up tonight. He gently cleared his throat and then moved towards the cook’s assistant. They didn’t even get the titles they went to school for in this place. Just ‘cook’ and ‘cook assistant.’ He made sure he was out of the window’s view before Windsor informed the washed out second in command of what they were dealing with. “We’ve got a food critic in the house. International.” Windsor knew the faces of the critics that mattered. The local ones that came in once or twice a year. The regional critics that came in every other year and the internationals that came in whenever the wind blew them this way. There were ones that came in every now and again, ones that worked for some shitty tabloid that always gave bad reviews, but then summed it up with statements like ‘at least it’s better than eating your aunt’s two week ham and egg bake dish.’ Pricks. “So we’re going to cook our *** off.” Windsor said after a few seconds of silence and internal debate. He didn’t want to just cook to get Thai Boulevard in a magazine, he wanted to cook his greatest and best to get recognition and get his name out there. It might be his saving grace from this **** hole.

”Order!” The bell at the window sounded as a fast, but heavy hand slapped down on it. Windsor moved to the window and grabbed the ticket to see what the critic wanted. When he saw how ‘easy’ the order was, he groaned. Anyone could make a great pad thai. He was never getting out of here. “This is it?” He asked as the waiter started to move away, who only looked at him and shrugged. ”That and...he asked for you. Windsor. Asked by name.” Obviously the guy misunderstood what Archie wanted; maybe he was tired, or unfamiliar with the fact that Thai Boulevard carried that wine, but Windsor blinked and then looked in the direction of where the critic was. “He did?” A broad smile crossed his features before he stood up taller and puffed out his chest. Now it made sense. He heard about this place from one of the local critics who must have written something good about Windsor that he missed. Only way he would know of him by name. “Alright. He wants a pad thai with shrimp. Don’t **** it up.” Windsor said as he rubbed his hands on his chef apron, took it off and placed it in a bunched pile at his small office desk. Still feeling on cloud nine, he waltzed over to the table and took a confident seat across from Archie and extended a hand. “Big fan. I read your article last month about the new restaurant in Paris. You have a way with words.” Windsor said, his eyes flicking over Archie, before landing on his dark irises.

[Archie]

Two rather inviting but scrutinizing brown eyes were up and down on him before his hooked into the line of their focus and locked in. The hand extending over the space of the set table was caught with his own despite the need for sleep still clinging to his brain. Once two warm palms met in a gentle grip the handshake was ended when Archie’s fingers uncurled and tapped at the wrist of the one who sat down at his table. He was recognized in of all places this particular one. His brow lifted in curiosity as Paris and a new restaurant being mentioned came to mind. He had been in so many but thankfully there was only one that had an article written by him in the last month.

“Clover Grill. It is memorable. I recommend it if you have the time to spare when visiting. If the unforgettable Piège or the world’s finest cuts pampered by some of the best chef’s is not enough to draw you there then the Louvre nearby surely would be.”

He settled back in his chair and took a few seconds to look over his unexpected table companion. A slow smile found his lips revealing a strong chiseled jaw framing the lower portion of his face. It would appear he purposely sucked in the walls of his mouth to accentuate this feature but it wasn’t so. Tired but relaxed he inhaled deep while his long legs parted for even more comfort allowing the right to venture further from the left beneath the table. His guess was that this place was all the more welcoming than he originally took for granted. He allowed the critic to retire for the night and the hungry and jet lagged human to surface. One who would be grateful for something hot and satisfying to revive him long enough to see him to a good night’s sleep. His bottom lip found it’s way pinched between the hard line of his teeth. A big fan, eh? He wondered if that meant he would get his Windsor any faster while he was waiting on his food.

“I asked for Windsor not too long ago. Any chance I am going to get lucky?” It was a hint delivered with a lean of his frame in towards the table. His eyes centered on those looking back at him. He winked with all the confidence he had gained over the years finding rather satisfying results when using the direct approach.“They say if you ask you shall receive.”

The scent of fresh ginger and garlic was not missed in the air between them in the lull of the conversation. Not that it was overpowering by any means. In fact it was quite the opposite. Appetizing would be a better word to use. Inspiring perhaps. Archie loved to cook when he wasn’t traveling. This stranger across from him reminded him of it. Fresh hints of numerous spices arrived with him that would require his brain a little longer to sort out and categorize if needed. In this case likely not. He clearly was looking at a chef worthy of his growing interest and not the bartender who had the passport to the drink he ordered.

[Windsor (DELETED 9272)]

Photos of the food critic, when Windsor thought of it, didn't do the guy any justice. They never did in propped still frames that only showed the top half (if lucky). To see Archie in person; face to face, was a real treat. Windsor took in the way his cheeks and jawbone were angled, his shoulders, and chest definition. Down boy,Windsor had to remind himself with a smirk that came close to the one Archie was wearing.

Windsor was as far from a traveler as any person who didn't go around the world for work. Vacations were not something he took-not because he wasn't interested, but because the guy was -almost- done with paying off his years of study. Just about a thousand dollars to go; which he would pay off next month. Archie nodded, putting the name of the place along with the bulk of Paris on his 'bucket' list. One day.

His thoughts moved away from something that may, or may not ever transpire, to the here and now when the critic talked about 'getting lucky.' That came with wanting Windsor, which the chef now realized what he meant by asking for Windsor. He wasn't looking for him, but for the damn Whiskey. Language barriers. Instead of being too upset about the mistake and the fact that the food critic wasn't here for him Windsor decided to make it about him. “If we do, it's only a year old at best. Still smooth as a baby's bottom going down...” Windsor furrowed his thick brows together, eyes dancing with mild danger. “But, if you want some real kick to your night, might want try the 1980 version later, baby.” With a wink, he was up from the table, and scooting in the chair. “Let me see what I can do for you about that drink.” Windsor stated with a hint of promise to his voice.

On the way back to the kitchen, Windsor stopped at the bar, pointed the food critic out to the guy behind it and all the little details about who was in the building. There was no hesitation to the haste the guy made once Windsor made a point to tell him to move his ***, before disappearing into the kitchen to see how his partner in crime was doing. “How we doing?” Windsor asked, steam enveloping him in all its potential wonder. Hopefully enough wonder to amaze the guy for such a small, hole in the wall place. “Give me that.” Windsor grabbed a fork out of a container that just went through the dish washing machine, and submerged it in some noodles and whirled it around his fork. A few noodles came up and were popped into his mouth, allowing Windsor to sample it. It COULD be better, but...hopefully it was good enough. Wasn't spicy enough for Windsor's liking, but few people these days could handle anything genuinely spicy. “Wait.” Windsor moved to grab some parsley from off a bunch, cut some off with a small blade and placed it to the top, left side, while he moved to a lime, cut it in half, then the half in half, before setting one of those halves against the parsley so they were nestled near by, but not quite overlapping the other. “Get it out of here.” Windsor waved his free hands towards the swinging door, with a final, “Go.” What happened from here on out was out of his hands.

[Archie]

At first in his jet lagged daze he had to pull that suggestion apart and figure it out. A year old verses 1980. Doing the math while he watched an appealing physique fade from his table he concluded that even the top shelf whiskey was at best ten to twenty years at most as far as aging. He had a preference for his Windsor so he knew it well. There was something about it as it first fills the glass releasing the pleasing hints of butterscotch coupled alongside the fruity spiced aroma of rye that had him every time. The longer it was left to sit the more that would surface to appreciate and savor.

His used the tip of his tongue to lick his lips slowly. In doing so he happened to find a stray grain of seasoning left over from the nuts he was existing on during the long flight that left him in the condition he now was wading in. He was hungry and his stomach growling said as much. While he sat there the suggestion finally registered and when it did he was watching the space that the previously nameless chef had disappeared through taking him out of view.

“Windsor.” The voice came from the table next to him which in turn had him diverting his attention to the source. “He is a master with anything Thai.”
“I am hopeful he is a master of that and more.” He straightened up thinking that would ease the tightness forming in his gut due to an appetite for a few things that had been denied him due to the time consuming travel back.
“He is.” She looked towards the wall that provided a barrier from the inner workings in the kitchen. The clank of a spoon hitting the inside of the bowl across from her caught her by surprise. “What? It’s true.”
“And how would you know?” The male dining with her seemed to still lack his sense of humor.
“The food, Dave.” An eyeroll happened and the spoon across from her was once again in his hand. “Why else do you think we come here at least twice a week?”
“I am looking forward to …” Archie’s words were halted with the arrival of his plate he had been waiting for. “This.”

His eyes wandered over the hot plate as he turned it taking a full view of the set up and finding it exceeding his expectations at every angle. The colors and presentation alone were incredibly appetizing. He reached for a fork and in a matter of a slow delivery from plate to his lips he pretty much connected with the best version of Pad Thai he ever encountered. No words could really do it justice. His eyes fixed at the doorway where the chef would hopefully return from. It was too bad that it was out of line to actually kiss the cook.

“This is how it should always be made.” He purred over the rise of another mouthful meeting his lips.

[Windsor (DELETED 9272)]

Apprehension filled him as Windsor stayed back in the kitchen. There was so much riding on that pad thai. If it wasn't good, not only would the restaurant get a bad rep and might go under, but his name would be attached to the pitiful and failing menu. "****." He growled as his eyes narrowed, Windsor grabbing his hollow ground Nakiri knife with one hand, while the other finding an onion. He set it on the counter, moved to get a cutting board and began slicing the onion, the side of the blade grazing against Windsor's middle knuckle as he cut it straight up and down. The knife was his favorite-it should be for the price he paid. Nothing ever stuck to the blade, unlike most American or Canadian rip offs.

There was no reason to be slicing the onion other than the apprehension he felt in the core of his stomach. After a few minutes, the onion sliced and diced, he tossed his hands in the air with an "aaauuuh." He had to see what the critic thought of his personal recipe. Both hands found the white apron he had tied around his waist when Windsor re-entered the kitchen to wipe them and dry them. He tugged the apron off, tossed it on the counter and moved to the kitchen door. "We've got orders." He grabbed the single ticket that just came in and read it. "One sweet and sour pork, two spring rolls and a beef broccoli. Try and let them get some broccoli this time, they're ******* paying for it." He gave narrowed eyes to his second in charge, remembering the last time he had only seen two ******* bunches on a plate. "Move your asses. Expect to see it plated in ten." He clapped his hands together, before Windsor pushed open the door and stared at the critic's table.

"Did you get the drink you were looking for?" Windsor asked once he was within earshot of the table he was planning on sitting at. A hand came out for the chair across from Archie, turned it and spun it so the back was pressed against the table and he was sitting in the chair with both arms at the top back of the chair. "Bet the drink pales in comparison to the big noodles in your mouth." A smirk found his lips when he heard how it sounded. It sounded different when he was thinking about it in his head-but this was much better.

[Archie]

Archie swallowed down what was in his mouth as the chef made his way back to the table empty handed. Windsor had arrived yet again with all sorts of eye pleasing and teasing possibilities. Unfortunately it was questionable yet as to whether or not he was going to get Windsor to slide past his lips much less down his throat. Could a man wish his current thirst away? Time would soon tell.

“Not yet.” The napkin in his lap raised subtly to his lips and skimmed the line of his lower lip. “How long will I have to wait?”

He set the napkin and his hand down to the left side of his meal. There was a whole lot more going on besides jet lag, some incredible Pad Thai and a thirst for Windsor. The latter of course was increasing considerably now that he was privy to how confident the man could straddle a surface with ease when it was centered beneath him. Something so casually executed had his mind traveling south to the point he shifted in his seat allowing his right leg to drop a little outward to give him the room for relief. Now he wasn’t feeling quite so constricted.

Big noodles.

His lips twitched at the suggestion and a partial smile surfaced.

“ I have to say that you know what you are doing.”

Archie hardly needed to tell the guy as much but he did anyways. The after taste in his mouth was leaving no question. The travel worn food critic found himself more than inspired. He was left wanting and that was a good sign in his business. Trouble was that what he wanted was to flood his mouth with Windsor and get more than a mouthful at the same time. What were the chances he was going to leave that satisfied?

"I am thirsty. What do you have to offer?" If in doubt it was best to cut to the chase and just ask.