Gastro-Affair

C.S. Mack Author

Gastro-Affair

The steam rising from the stockpot hisssssses forth a plume of vapor climbing upward in the culminating moments before the joining. Golden pasta waits in a shiny stainless bowl, each smooth and cylindrical strand begging to be doused in the superheated bath sitting adjacent upon the range. Effervescence rises in both the crystal flutes of champagne, and within the two epicurean gastrologers delighting in the affairs of their newly completed gourmet kitchen, a wedding gift from their parents. Hierodules to culinary refinement constantly seeking the epitome of gastro delight, they meet in their kitchen regularly, postulating new culinary formulas in the name of innovation and modernization. They are the sensational gastronomic nuevo riche; a young couple whose taste buds have been educated in homes of sophistication, a foodie parentage. Tonight is a gasto-affair, an unveiling of their obvious benefits, and a showing of their culinary skill.

Sienna red sauce rolls over and over in a cast iron pot beautifully finished with unmarred creamy enamel. Mushrooms, peppers, and bits of tomato bubble to the surface again and again, the perpetual churning over a seamless simmer capturing the precisely calculated seasonings in a cycle meant to solidify tasteful perfection. The young couple laughs happily while engrossed in their preparations, speaking boldly of their impending guests. Their carefully chosen visitors will just “love” this, and how the couple will be “praised” for that. On and on they talk, knowing how flawless the evening will be. They will be the talk of their foodie friends, applauded for their fabulous presentation, and their ingenious culinary creations will be celebrated when seated at many tables during future engagements yet to come.

Ecstatic and filled with bubbly induced glee, they kiss passionately under the crystal chandelier, the finishing touch upon the custom kitchen of elegance. Excitement rises from their kiss, and the couple pulls back to look at each other seeing desperate need suggested in their smoldering gazes, as often occurs in the lives of newlyweds. Aromas waft up from their mutual gastro-creation swirling around the two lovers, further igniting their passion. Simultaneously, they quickly glance over to the front door deciding if they have time to christen the impeccably honed butcher block before their guests arrive.

She pushes aside the hammered copper salad bowl, overflowing with garden fresh greens, as he lifts her on top of the wooden plank just as a knock sounds upon the door. They look at each other with slight disappointment, and then giggle in delight, their guests have arrived! They smooth their clothes and check their reflections in the smudge-less stainless steel refrigerator door. Taking up each other’s hand, they make their way to the entry door, genuine smiles beaming towards the night.

The Morning-Affair

She is the first to rise, padding from their shared bedroom of sweet romance and certain love while noting the intensity of the sunlight bursting though the window of their fresh and faultless home. A thick and heavy water glass is balanced in one hand while she holds her forehead with the other. Half asleep and blinded by the brightness of day, she stumbles upon something in her usually unhindered path. Landing in a heap upon the polished marble floor, the water glass crashes down shattering into a million fragments as she looks back to see a leg sticking out from underneath the dining table. Sitting up in one jerking motion, she quickly holds her head as targeted pounding beats home unpleasant realities. A rush of memories, a report of improprieties that had taken place in the night greets her immediately.

She turns to see another body lying haplessly across the couch, a ruddy visage with mouth agape in a snore upon the head attached to the body. She counts four bodies in total, one under the table, the second one on the sitting room floor, another overflowing the tiny love seat, with the fourth being the snorer on the couch. Scrambling to her feet, hurriedly she moves into her shiny new gourmet kitchen completely forgetting about the broken glass upon the floor.

A blood-curdling scream rises from her unflawed, and fit tiny body. Three of the four party crashers are roused from their snoring stupors with the fourth rolling over back to sleep after a short snort escaped his mouth, which fell open slack, and drooling. Her young husband hurries out to the living room, arms flailing in awkward exertion while rushing to reach his sweetheart who must be in grave danger as signaled by her wretched shriek. He races towards the kitchen upon seeing his beloved standing in the there unmoving. Her hand flies up with the palm out, an order to halt! He freezes in his tracks at the dining table, watching her hand point downward to the tiny shards of glass littering the polished floor. His eyes rise following the trail of blood on the white marble floor that leads to her exquisitely manicured toes painted of the same color that flows out of her foot.

Two of the party crashers saunter up behind the young groom with one slapping his back upon approach. The third man tries to rouse the fourth, whose cantankerous refusals sound off during this massive effort. The young woman turns her head slowly to glare at her new husband who visibly shrinks under her resentful gaze. Her hand raises pointing at the door, and there is no misunderstanding. The new husband rounds up the four party crashers, and sends them on their way with exhausting determination. His bride does not speak, refusing to look upon the scruffy men as they exit her lovely home with heads bowed, feet lazily shuffling along, scuffing her once pristinely polished floor.

The newlyweds stand side-by-side looking at their kitchen, their masterpiece of culinary design, their sacred dojo of gourmet creation. The countertops are littered with plates and serving platters crusty with hardened food. A dark red ring of cabernet red stains the blonde butcher block of once perfectly unblemished wood. A scratch mars the sheen of the tall stainless refrigerator door, and the formerly flawless porcelain sink is chipped with the sauce encrusted cast iron pot siting in the basin, a matching chip mark at its base below. She cannot look upon the room any longer, the misery is too much, and the growing list of deficiencies unbearable. A tear slides down her cheek, as he reaches to comfort her, his arm circling around her shoulders as she shrugs him off. She turns, leaving him alone in the kitchen. Moments later she reemerges from the bedroom, dressed with car keys in hand. Nearly silent, she limps through the front door not speaking as she leaves. The young groom is speechless as well. He does not have the words to comfort her, and he knows his faults all too well.

There is no maid to clean this mess of his own design, a spoiling he had formerly known in his parent’s home. There will be no one to fix the flaws, but himself, with his new wife, in his new home. He is a young man, a newlywed, and he must fix this inexplicable and extensive mess all on his own.