“It’s food safety humility.”
Julian laughed.
“When can I taste?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Bring it to Cross & Ash Austin.”
“That’s ninety minutes.”
“You want me to drive to your farm?”
Clara looked toward the old canning room.
“No.”
“Tomorrow at two.”
She arrived at 1:47.
Not because she was eager.
Because her father taught her being late made you look poor even when you were rich.
Cross & Ash occupied a converted brick warehouse.
Open kitchen.
Wood fire.
Dark tables.
The restaurant was closed between lunch and dinner.
Julian sat at the bar reviewing invoices.
Clara entered carrying three glass jars in a cooler.
He looked at her boots.
“You brought mud.”
“It’s decorative.”
He smiled.
“Sauce?”
She placed the jars down.
One mild.
One standard.
One hotter.
Julian brought spoons.
Tasted the standard first.
His expression did not change.
Clara hated him for that.
He tasted again.
Then dipped a piece of bread.
Then walked toward the kitchen.
“Come.”
She followed.
He took a piece of roasted chicken from a prep tray.
Added sauce.
Tasted.
Then roasted potatoes.
Then grilled cabbage.
Clara watched.
“Are you going to say anything?”
“No.”
“That’s rude.”
“I’m thinking.”
“Think faster.”
He looked at her.
Then smiled.
“This is good.”
Clara exhaled.
“How good?”
“Annoyingly good.”
“That sounds better.”
Julian tasted the hotter version.
“Too hot for general menu.”
“I know.”
“Mild is unnecessary.”
“Why?”
“People who fear heat will still tolerate the standard.”
Clara stared.
“You got that from two spoonfuls?”
“I sell food.”
She crossed her arms.
“Fifty cases?”
He leaned against the counter.
“Can you legally make fifty cases?”
Her confidence collapsed.
“Not yet.”
He nodded.
“Then we have a different conversation.”
“What?”
“Can you make five gallons legally in a licensed kitchen?”
“Probably.”
“Do that.”
“For what?”
“Special.”
“You said fifty cases.”
“I said if you bottle something worth buying.”
“It is worth buying.”
“Yes.”
“But you’re not ready.”
Clara bristled.
“I can get ready.”
“Good.”
“Then why five gallons?”
“Because businesses die from buying equipment before customers.”
That silenced her.
Julian continued:
“Make five gallons.”