South Beach Sizzle by Suzanne Weyn & DIANA GONZALEZ

Author:Suzanne Weyn & DIANA GONZALEZ
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: SOC035000
Publisher: Simon Pulse
Published: 2005-09-03T04:00:00+00:00

She continued reading on her way into the kitchen.

“What ya got there?” Jeff asked as he chopped a bunch of cilantro at the counter. He’d found a recipe and was attempting to make his own sofrito and recaito .

“See for yourself,” she said, handing him the paper. The flyer announced that a new cable network called The “Best Of” Network was planning a TV show called The Best of South Beach. It would feature a segment that showcased the five best South Beach bands.

“Too bad this place doesn’t have a band,” Jeff commented, reading over the flyer. “The restaurant sponsoring the band wins a kitchen makeover.”

He looked around at the kitchen with its old, avocado green stove and refrigerators. Its glass refrigerator cases had cracks that were patched with duct tape. There was a new scorch mark on the wall where the microwave had once been. “CeCe could sure use that prize,” he remarked.

Lula nodded in agreement. “But CeCe couldn’t afford musicians,” she pointed out, “and who would want to play here, anyway?”

“Why not?” Jeff asked.

“Most people who play music like to have an audience,” she replied.

“Mr. Smedlinsky has been here the last two nights,” he reminded her.

Lula chuckled. “Yeah, I know. He loves your spicy meatballs. But a restaurant needs more than one customer.”

“Marc, Jon, and Ethan eat here a lot,” Jeff said.

“That’s because CeCe never charges them for anything but their sodas,” Lula mentioned. “She doesn’t charge us, either, which is the only reason we’re able to eat. I haven’t made more than twenty dollars in tips in days.”

“It’s great working here, though, isn’t it?” Jeff insisted. His applause from the retirement-home tourists had seemed to fill him with a new enthusiasm for his future as a chef. He now watched cooking shows continually. He was more determined than ever to become a chef. The experience had also made him fiercely loyal to CeCe’s Cuban Café. He thought of it as their place.

“It’s great that CeCe lets you run the kitchen, and CeCe’s really the best,” Lula agreed. “But we need customers. If there were more people in here, she could afford to pay you more and I’d make some decent tips.”

“Ah, come on,” he coaxed. “If you had a lot of customers you couldn’t write your poetry all evening long.” It was true. Her shifts were so slow that she’d been bringing her silver notebook with her. She’d sit at a corner table and work on her poems.

If she tired of writing, she’d read the poems in Doing the Shang-a-lang on Hip-Hop Street. Although she’d taken her time reading every poem over and over, she was nearly finished.

Jeff switched on the TV. His favorite cooking show was about to come on. “Could you check the weather?” Lula requested. “Daisy and I plan to go to the Parrot Jungle, but we want to pick a good day.”

Jeff began clicking through the channels. “I didn’t know you wanted to go to the Parrot Jungle,” he said, with an edge of sulkiness in his voice.

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