The Four F's of the Culinary Arts: Filets, Flambe', Flames, Fiasco

Prompt: Include a scene in which someone is cooking, eating, or drinking.

Secondary Prompt: Start or end your story with someone making a meal, a recipe, or a cup of tea (for themselves or someone else).

The Four F’s of the Culinary Arts: Filets, Flambe’, Flames, Fiasco

It was a celebration like no other we would have at our house. I was graduating from high school along with a few of my closest friends. The families agreed to have one huge celebratory party for the five of us graduates. I volunteered my parents to orchestrate the gathering at our house in the backyard. My parents even agreed to rent an open-sided tent and a port-a-potty to accommodate the throng of people who would attend. But the star of the show would be Chef Dad preparing the whole wing ding. And I just don’t mean BBQ chicken wings, although they would be tasty as well.

My dad was really excited about this because he was so proud of his culinary prowess at the BBQ grill. He brags about his skill and has won a few local awards showing his finesse at grilling everything from wieners, burgers, fish, roasts, vegetables, schnitzel (which I never knew you could grill it) and flambe’ desserts. His “piece de resistance” is steak Diane. My old man was a gastronomic genius. An artisan of intertwining heat, time, seasoning and the targeted food to the desired level of appearance, texture, tenderness and taste to the delight of friends and family.

The stage, aka our backyard, was set and ready to “Partee”. The amount of meat, snacks and desserts could feed hundreds. My dad’s cooking station had stacks upon stacks of steak filets ready to be lambasted with his steak Diane magic. Behind him were mounds of assorted fish filets and chicken. Vegetables were weeping with butter. If you were a nature whisperer, you could hear those veggies pleading to be toasted on the grill.

All the tables were full of party hats, noise makers, silly string, and any nonsensical favors one could think to have for amusement. Neighbors and relatives filled our tiny but lush backyard. They were toasting each other like there would be no tomorrow. Libations were offered up to the chef, the true star of it all. It was elbow to elbow room only. I wondered how anyone could even lift their plastic glasses. But they did. Some to great excess as they slurred their words and slumped their bodies on one another.

When my dad began the cooking, the crowd gave him an ovation and urged him on to “grill those suckers.” I could see delight on their faces and their jaws move in anticipatory chewing of the food soon to be consumed.

One could smell and hear the sound of meat sizzling on the grill as dear old dad began his demonstration of hand and skill in the culinary arts. Guests were drawn like magnets to the array of metal ovens. They wanted to witness firsthand the magical touch of my talented dad. There were several small grills and one very large one my dad would supervise. Feeding this large number of people would be an ordeal. Unlike the curious onlookers, I watched from a very long distance as I valued my hair and eyebrows on my face.

My old man was a showman. He gave the crowd what they wanted. A spectacle. He was a buzz of activity. Food was flying in the air as he flipped the filets and assorted meats. The crowd oohed and aahed over the finesse of his juggling of the seasoning bottles. He was an accomplished showman dazzling with the eyes and enticing the audience with the smells of spices, searing meat, and toasting veggies. I could almost hear the bellies of the neighborhood collectively gurgle for what awaited them.

Suddenly, a whoosh of intense flame blanketed the large grill. My dad danced away from the blazing inferno narrowly escaping the fires of hell (at least for now). No sooner had his gaze focused on the raging inferno, then the other smaller grills followed suit. One by one the small units belched out flames intermittently. He literally rabbit hopped between them doing his best to manage the mini beasts from hell. Meanwhile, our neighbors were mesmerized by the fire and extinguishing antics of my father trying to control the blazes. The impression was that this roaring flame was part of his show. No one dared to move. They were petrified, except a few sarcastic souls applauded as my dad danced around. Someone shouted call 911-emergency, but no one did. Burn, baby burn and it did relentlessly! It was like the Fourth of July with fireworks bursting in the air and rockets’ red glare.The air was thick with black smoke.The air was ladened with charcoal dust and burnt odors. I saw neighbors with soot on their faces pushing each other and running amuck out into the front of the house.

Sweat poured down my face. It was not enough to extinguish the fire, however. I groaned and screeched. I looked up and saw the tent awning collapsing on top of me. I was smothered.

Suddenly, I was being awakened by my mom. She had a concerned look on her face saying,

“Billy, are you okay? It’s time to get ready for church. You are sweating so profusely. Let me take your temperature. You were very agitated and moaning in your sleep.”

“No mom. I just had a very horrid dream. Where is dad? I have to stop him.”

“Stop him from what?” she asked.

“The BBQ! I have to tell him about my dream! Where is he?”

“He’s out in the yard getting ready for the BBQ this afternoon before we head off to church.”

I raced out of the back door yelling,

“Dad, dad stop! I need to tell you about my dream. We can’t do this. Something really bad is going to happen.”

“Billy, slow down and tell me what the matter is?” he said in a calming voice.

I took a few deep breaths and collected myself. I proceeded to explain my dream to him detail upon detail describing the horrible outcome. He listened intently nodding his head a few times. The he said to me,

“Ok Billy. I understand everything you said and I appreciate your forewarning. I may be a prideful chef, but I am not stupid to listen to ignore a detailed prediction like yours. I assure you I will act with extreme caution on what you have shared with me. Please trust me when I say I’ve got this. No harm will befall us this afternoon at your party.”

My dad continued, “Try now to restore your focus on something much more important than your party as we head to church.”

I sat between my mom and dad at church. Dad nudged me before the service began. He put his arm on my shoulder suggesting things would be okay. The pastor was speaking about biblical dreams, visions and prophecies in the bible. I was surprised by what the bible had said.

“In the last days, God says, ‘I will pour out my Spirit upon all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy. Your young men will see visions; your old men will dream dreams.” (1-1)

And the pastor continued with this:

So, I decided there is nothing better than to enjoy food and drink and to find satisfaction in work. Then I realized that these pleasures are from the hand of God. (2-2)

“But don’t be so concerned about perishable things like food. Spend your energy seeking the eternal life that the Son of Man can give you. For God the Father has given Him (Jesus) the seal of his approval.” (3-3)

Wow! I was feeling better already because my dad and I heard these words together. He tuned to me and smiled.

The afternoon was upon us. Guests were arriving. The tent was up. The port-ta potty was clean and ready. The beverages were flowing down the throats of the guests. Party favors were out on the tables along with utensils and plates. But there was no dad in sight. The grills had not been lit. I asked my mom where the chef was? She just smiled at me saying he’ll turn up shortly.

And no sooner had I asked, coming up the walkway into the backyard was my dear old chef dad, the chef. He was pulling a red wagon. He must have had four dozen pizza boxes in that thing.

He smiled ear to ear saying, “There are three things in life I honor the most. (1) the Word of God. (2) Your mother, and (3) the dreams of my son. I really didn’t want the Fire Marshall to shut us down either. He was invited to the party. Happy Graduation, my son! I hope you and your friends are hungry!

-End-

(1-1) Acts 2:17, NLT

(2-2) Ecclesiastes 2:24, NLT

(3-3) John 6:27, NLT

NLT=New Living Translation

Author: Pete Gautchier

Acknowledgement: Reedsy.com