Recipe for Disaster Read Online Free

the grimy window and
knocking on the pane rather too firmly for Jake's taste.
    'No. See – there is the closed sign,' explained Jake
patiently.
    The old man turned round to his wife and bellowed:
'They're not open, Mabel!'
    'They're what?'
    'THEY'RE NOT OPEN!'
    'But they could do us supper, couldn't they?'
    'I say, could you do us –'
    Jake was now beyond tired and his self-control was
evaporating like early morning mist on the fells. 'What part
of "this place is closed" do you not understand?' he hissed.
    'There's no need for that tone, sonny. We were just
hoping for a nice fish supper.'
    Jake took a deep breath. He might cook like a god, but it
would be pointless if he upset the locals before he'd even
started. 'When we are open, I will cook you a wonderful
supper with a free bottle of wine to thank you for your
patience.'
    As soon as they had gone, Georgia turned on him.
'You're not going to do fish suppers, are you?'
    'No, of course not. I will call this place Cuisine, because
that is what it will be all about – stupendously tasty but
simple and sensible.'
    Eric was bubbling over with excitement. It sounded like
this fool – oops – client was going to buy. 'Maybe you should
have cooked them something now to show them what you
are made of!'
    'If you think I'm waiting here while you –' began Georgia
in outrage.
    'Oh don't be so silly the pair of you!' said Jake in
exasperation. 'I am a chef, not a bloody magician. I can't
produce a fabulous meal out of thin air, like a bloody rabbit
out of a hat! The actual meal is really only the tip of the
iceberg. Underneath that . . .' No, he could see he had lost
them both. Lay people didn't have an inkling of the huge
amount of effort it took to present a perfectly prepared
meal. 'Look at it this way, darling, you wouldn't set off down
the catwalk before they'd finished making your dress,
would you? You wouldn't go down naked?'
    'Well . . . I would have to take laxatives for at least a week
beforehand and book a top-class exfoliation and then a
spray tan with Amy – she's the only one at the salon that
knows how to do it – and of course the lighting would all
have to be angled towards the right because of that awful,
unsightly dimple in my left thigh – I really will have to think
again about surgery – but, yeah, I don't have any real hangups
about my body.'
    Jake looked at her in disbelief, then turned to Eric, who
was leaning against the wall with a faraway look on his face,
quite obviously picturing Georgia on the catwalk. 'So, how
much are they asking for this place?' he said, though he
knew perfectly well.
    Eric hastily stood to attention and named the price.
    'Tell the vendor I'll give them five thousand pounds less.
This will be my only offer so they needn't waste their time
trying to squeeze any more out of me. As you can see, I have
a very expensive girlfriend.'
    'Yeah, but I bet she's worth every penny,' said Eric with
a wink. As he turned to go, Jake could see that some more
of the window paintwork had peeled off and stuck to his
jacket.
    *
    Their hotel room had a view over the lake, which was a
pointless extra expense, because it was now dark. Peering
out of the window, Jake could see nothing but a few stars.
Georgia was prowling round the room, taking stock of all
the mirrors. 'I don't see the point of having a lovely
complexion like mine if there's no one there to take a
picture of it,' she complained. She secretly kept a tally of
how many times she was featured in the press each week.
    'Come to bed,' said Jake, patting the duvet invitingly.
'We might as well get our money's worth out of it.'
    'I still don't know why you want to stop being head chef
at Brie. It's one of the best restaurants in London –
everybody says so – and loads of famous people go there.'
    'I worked there because my boss is a genius, pure and
simple, but now it's time to spread my wings. I want my own
place. It's the only way I can put my mark on the cooking
world.'
    'Yes, but why