a cat chef, a street cart,
and a very judgmental customer
Peculiar ingredients. An unimpressed city. The reputation of the cart balanced on a knife's edge — and one uppity cat who won't even finish his meal.
flash fictionA cat chef, cooking street food with peculiar ingredients.
Experimentation and adventurous cooking balanced on a knife's edge — the reputation of the street cart means everything.
Too many disastrous dishes and word will spread. Dreams of rising up the ladder of the cooking world, dashed. But if you don't push your skills and imagination, you will always just be another snack stop in someone's busy life.
Nonplussed, judging — the customer that penetrates your soul with their eyes after tasting today's fare. If only I could make their face light up. To smile, to change, with my food.
As they take a bite the world pauses briefly. The milling crowds hush. The clatter ceases. Nobody is the wiser.
They chew, they taste, they evaluate. Silently. Eyes locked.
"Hmmph."
They stroll on, disinterest creeping into their stride, casting the rest of the meal away.
Why do I feel the need to impress that uppity cat? He pays. Why should I care if he doesn't eat it all?
But I feel it in the pit of my stomach. I must make this happen. I must improve.
Next time —
MORE SPICE!
Let's see if the whole jar will do it.