Haute Cuisine by Barney Broom

Author:Barney Broom
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Book Guild Publishing

Chapter 22

Even at lunchtime the restaurant was frenetically busy. Carmen and Gaultier were now a well-oiled double act managing front of house; Carmen, as general manager, ran the day-to-day enterprise; Feydor Gaultier added a touch of class as maitre d’. The combination of Carmen’s exotic appearance and hands-on approach, Gaultier’s elegance, the singular decor, the fabulous food and the renowned eccentricity of the chef had taken Restaurant Incarnate to New Yorkers’ hearts. Internationally-known celebrities came by: Hill ’n’ Bill were seen; Woody A played sax on occasional Friday evenings; P.J. O’Rourke had dined several times, along with Tom Wolfe and many other theatrical A-listers and movie people.

Restaurant Incarnate had never been a hotter venue, which rendered the window seats for Captain Doctrinal Manifest and Chief Fionn Giantelli especially privileged. Currently Chief of Queens District, Giantelli was one of the top policemen in New York. He was a giant bear of a man – powerful and charismatic. Now, as the chief sat in the best seat the house had to offer, surveying the ‘in’ people – movers and shakers who made the city of which he was so proud the place it was – he raised a glass of rare Antica Distilleria Russo, a wine created from grapes near Amalfi in the Campania region. He and the captain were doing themselves very proud, and Giantelli felt he had every reason to celebrate. Here they were in the ultimate restaurant Manhattan had to offer and they hadn’t had to bring the mayor with them.

‘To good health, family and the apprehension of all criminals.’

Raising his own glass, Manifest sipped the beautiful wine. ‘Such a pity the mayor wasn’t able to make it.’ He managed to withhold any note of sarcasm.

‘These politicos! I thought he was going to go epileptic when the governor insisted they have lunch today. Gather dining at the mansion ain’t quite up to this cuisine.’

Waiters appeared, removing covers and revealing cervelles sautées for the chief and coeur de boeuf aux tripes for the captain. The two plates were dressed magnificently. The waiters melted away and Gaultier refilled their glasses.

‘Bon appétit.’

‘I’m in heaven.’ The chief chomped on his brains. ‘Incarnate’s sure come to life, ain’t it?’ he sniggered.

Manifest could hardly speak, he was in such raptures.

‘If that’s what it is I’m here to stay.’

That day, Raymond appeared upstairs earlier than he normally did, but to the usual acclaim. Lately this bordered on adoration, such was the esteem and cult status he had achieved within New York society. Tutti skipped about – they had their party-piece finely honed, the little monkey hopping off the chef’s shoulder and, smoking not being allowed, waving his unlit cigar at the clientele. A nod to this table, a wave to that; diners were spoken to occasionally, which Raymond genuinely enjoyed. The secret of his reputation amongst the chefs of Manhattan was that, whilst conceited, even arrogant, about his abilities where culinary matters were concerned, his natural reserve in public increased as his notoriety spread to fame. Because of this outward diffidence, his appeal was somehow magnified.

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