Post by Sadie on Oct 13, 2009 15:40:58 GMT -5
[[Mr. Melloni © tater06, NOT ME. I wrote this for her. :D It has our two Italian chefs JUST BEING AWESOME BUDDIES.]]
The loud bang of the door was enough to alert the quaint little restaurant that there was an important man entering. At once, the owner lifted a hand to his staff, gesturing for them to be silent. As the bustle of the kitchen quieted, he allowed a wide smile to grace his features before opening the door for his guest.
“Mr. Melloni!” he cried boisterously, reaching out to grasp the hand of the other man. Although he towered over the other chef, there was no denying that their handshake was equally as firm on both ends. Beneath the curled mustache of the other, he could see a grin being returned that warmed the thingyles of his heart.
“Ah!” The other chef responded brightly, patting him on the back. “My dear Mr. De Luca! I swear, you are getting taller every time I come!” An old joke between them, that the tall chef was getting taller and that the portly man was shrinking as the years went on. With cheeks red with delight, Mr. De Luca clapped his guest on the back and ushered him toward the kitchen.
“I am very, very happy to see you!” Mr. De Luca’s staff all swept a respectful bow toward Mr. Melloni, having been given the warning that if they did not show a glimpse of respect for Mr. De Luca’s long time friend, there would be consequences. Besides, they rarely got to see their manager smile like he was now, as though he had tasted the most exquisite pasta ever created. “Tell me, my friend, how is Umberto’s? You’re doing well, yes?”
“Oh, is very, very good,” the man responded happily, taking a look around the kitchen with an appreciation that only a chef could have. He nodded his approval with a smile and then reached into the pocket of his flour-stained apron, pulling out a wrinkled piece of paper that was folded and dribbled on with spaghetti sauce. “The reason I come, my dear De Luca, is because I have secret for you!”
“We all know how I enjoy secrets,” Mr. De Luca grinned, his eyes twinkling with all of the mischievous tendencies of a rambunctious Italian man. After the chef had waved his staff away, both men bent over the paper with the excitement that two giggling schoolgirls might have over the height of school gossip. Mr. Melloni’s finger jabbed at the paper, pointing at his scrawled words.
“You see? I have found the secret for pasta sauce! You see, yes? With these spices, the pasta sauce will simply explode with flavor inside of your mouth! Is very good, I tried it! I come to give you the secret, and we will tell no one!” He grinned happily at the taller man, with cheeks that were touched with red in all of his ecstasy. This was the way that they had always worked – trading secrets, working as allies, and astounding the town with their various talents that both of them managed to pull off so well.
“Yes,” Mr. De Luca murmured, stroking his peppered beard. “It sounds good for the pizza, yes. I think I could make it good for pasta, as well!” Straightening, he clapped his friend on the back and let out a triumphant cry of joy. “My friend, you have done it again! Here, I will give you secret in return!” Without another word, he whisked away into the back room, before returning with a small recording camera.
“Oh?” The smile on Mr. Melloni’s face widened and his eyes let off a gleeful glint as he eyed the camera. “You have good video for me?”
“The very best.” While fiddling with the camera, Mr. De Luca kept talking excitedly, in a faster pace than any of his kitchen staff had ever heard him utter. “It is secret for now, I am thinking, so you must keep it hush*ty-hush! Only for you!” Grinning like a delighted mad scientist, he turned on the video and propped it up so that both men could watch it.
It played through a few nights before, showing a pair seated at a table; a fidgety blonde boy, and a laughing girl with raven locks. Mr. Melloni’s eyes widened excitedly as he realized what was going on.
Both of them held their breath as the cake was carried out, and Mr. De Luca felt his heart warm once more, even though he had already witnessed this once before. He watched again as the boy offered her a hesitant question, and her undeniable excitement as she accepted.
The two were delighted as she slid the ring onto her finger, and on the camera it was easy to hear the entire kitchen erupt into a cheer when her head bobbed up and down. The way that their faces both became flushed and pleased was enough to send both of the men into a wave of sniffling and vague tears.
“I knew it,” Mr. Melloni crooned softly, wiping one of his eyes. “I knew it would be them, they are the perfect fit together, no?” He accepted the tissue that Mr. De Luca offered him and used it to blow his nose, rather loudly. It might have been embarrassing, except for the fact that Mr. De Luca had done the same, and the two sounded like sentimental elephants that the kitchen staff knew better than to laugh at.
“Is so beautiful,” Mr. De Luca agreed softly, trying to appear gruff, but not quite succeeding. Under the cover of his thick mustache, his lips were quivering with joy that only Mr. Melloni could quite understand. He was hastily trying to rid his eyes of the tears. “The perfect romance.”
“Come, my friend, come, sit!” Mr. Melloni nodded, bringing them over to a pair of chairs and then leaning in with a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes. “We will make them Italian masterpieces! Yes, delicious wonders of congratulations! The ultimate pizza!”
“And the paramount plate of pasta!” Both men clasped hands once more, bound together in their determination. “Now, my friend, you must go, before your restaurant misses you. Wipe the tears from your eyes and face the world as a man!”
“Tears?” At once, the man was all charisma again, and both of them were beaming together like a pair of thieves that had been together from the cradle. “My dear De Luca, we chefs never cry! We only celebrate!” He hurried to the door, preceded by the other man, who yanked open the door for him.
“The world is beautiful!” Mr. De Luca crowed into the streets, sweeping off his hat and holding it out toward the sky.
“The day is new!”
“Victory is forever!”
“And the stars are waiting!” As both men saluted each other with their large hats, they gathered quite a few stares from the onlookers of the streets. Of course they did not notice, only waving at each other as Mr. Melloni returned to his restaurant that felt like a home. Back inside the kitchen, Mr. De Luca’s staff was chuckling, amused by the antics of the Italian men.
“They are crazy,” one man, who had been working there for many years, murmured with affection. His squinting eyes rolled with a false note of impatience as he returned to his pot of boiling sauce with a knowing grin.
“Yes,” commented a younger worker there, a lad who was already chopping the vegetables with fingers quick like snakes. He smiled secretly down at the colorful pieces of vegetables. “But they are artists, and that gives them the right to be just a little crazy in the head, no?”
The loud bang of the door was enough to alert the quaint little restaurant that there was an important man entering. At once, the owner lifted a hand to his staff, gesturing for them to be silent. As the bustle of the kitchen quieted, he allowed a wide smile to grace his features before opening the door for his guest.
“Mr. Melloni!” he cried boisterously, reaching out to grasp the hand of the other man. Although he towered over the other chef, there was no denying that their handshake was equally as firm on both ends. Beneath the curled mustache of the other, he could see a grin being returned that warmed the thingyles of his heart.
“Ah!” The other chef responded brightly, patting him on the back. “My dear Mr. De Luca! I swear, you are getting taller every time I come!” An old joke between them, that the tall chef was getting taller and that the portly man was shrinking as the years went on. With cheeks red with delight, Mr. De Luca clapped his guest on the back and ushered him toward the kitchen.
“I am very, very happy to see you!” Mr. De Luca’s staff all swept a respectful bow toward Mr. Melloni, having been given the warning that if they did not show a glimpse of respect for Mr. De Luca’s long time friend, there would be consequences. Besides, they rarely got to see their manager smile like he was now, as though he had tasted the most exquisite pasta ever created. “Tell me, my friend, how is Umberto’s? You’re doing well, yes?”
“Oh, is very, very good,” the man responded happily, taking a look around the kitchen with an appreciation that only a chef could have. He nodded his approval with a smile and then reached into the pocket of his flour-stained apron, pulling out a wrinkled piece of paper that was folded and dribbled on with spaghetti sauce. “The reason I come, my dear De Luca, is because I have secret for you!”
“We all know how I enjoy secrets,” Mr. De Luca grinned, his eyes twinkling with all of the mischievous tendencies of a rambunctious Italian man. After the chef had waved his staff away, both men bent over the paper with the excitement that two giggling schoolgirls might have over the height of school gossip. Mr. Melloni’s finger jabbed at the paper, pointing at his scrawled words.
“You see? I have found the secret for pasta sauce! You see, yes? With these spices, the pasta sauce will simply explode with flavor inside of your mouth! Is very good, I tried it! I come to give you the secret, and we will tell no one!” He grinned happily at the taller man, with cheeks that were touched with red in all of his ecstasy. This was the way that they had always worked – trading secrets, working as allies, and astounding the town with their various talents that both of them managed to pull off so well.
“Yes,” Mr. De Luca murmured, stroking his peppered beard. “It sounds good for the pizza, yes. I think I could make it good for pasta, as well!” Straightening, he clapped his friend on the back and let out a triumphant cry of joy. “My friend, you have done it again! Here, I will give you secret in return!” Without another word, he whisked away into the back room, before returning with a small recording camera.
“Oh?” The smile on Mr. Melloni’s face widened and his eyes let off a gleeful glint as he eyed the camera. “You have good video for me?”
“The very best.” While fiddling with the camera, Mr. De Luca kept talking excitedly, in a faster pace than any of his kitchen staff had ever heard him utter. “It is secret for now, I am thinking, so you must keep it hush*ty-hush! Only for you!” Grinning like a delighted mad scientist, he turned on the video and propped it up so that both men could watch it.
It played through a few nights before, showing a pair seated at a table; a fidgety blonde boy, and a laughing girl with raven locks. Mr. Melloni’s eyes widened excitedly as he realized what was going on.
Both of them held their breath as the cake was carried out, and Mr. De Luca felt his heart warm once more, even though he had already witnessed this once before. He watched again as the boy offered her a hesitant question, and her undeniable excitement as she accepted.
The two were delighted as she slid the ring onto her finger, and on the camera it was easy to hear the entire kitchen erupt into a cheer when her head bobbed up and down. The way that their faces both became flushed and pleased was enough to send both of the men into a wave of sniffling and vague tears.
“I knew it,” Mr. Melloni crooned softly, wiping one of his eyes. “I knew it would be them, they are the perfect fit together, no?” He accepted the tissue that Mr. De Luca offered him and used it to blow his nose, rather loudly. It might have been embarrassing, except for the fact that Mr. De Luca had done the same, and the two sounded like sentimental elephants that the kitchen staff knew better than to laugh at.
“Is so beautiful,” Mr. De Luca agreed softly, trying to appear gruff, but not quite succeeding. Under the cover of his thick mustache, his lips were quivering with joy that only Mr. Melloni could quite understand. He was hastily trying to rid his eyes of the tears. “The perfect romance.”
“Come, my friend, come, sit!” Mr. Melloni nodded, bringing them over to a pair of chairs and then leaning in with a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes. “We will make them Italian masterpieces! Yes, delicious wonders of congratulations! The ultimate pizza!”
“And the paramount plate of pasta!” Both men clasped hands once more, bound together in their determination. “Now, my friend, you must go, before your restaurant misses you. Wipe the tears from your eyes and face the world as a man!”
“Tears?” At once, the man was all charisma again, and both of them were beaming together like a pair of thieves that had been together from the cradle. “My dear De Luca, we chefs never cry! We only celebrate!” He hurried to the door, preceded by the other man, who yanked open the door for him.
“The world is beautiful!” Mr. De Luca crowed into the streets, sweeping off his hat and holding it out toward the sky.
“The day is new!”
“Victory is forever!”
“And the stars are waiting!” As both men saluted each other with their large hats, they gathered quite a few stares from the onlookers of the streets. Of course they did not notice, only waving at each other as Mr. Melloni returned to his restaurant that felt like a home. Back inside the kitchen, Mr. De Luca’s staff was chuckling, amused by the antics of the Italian men.
“They are crazy,” one man, who had been working there for many years, murmured with affection. His squinting eyes rolled with a false note of impatience as he returned to his pot of boiling sauce with a knowing grin.
“Yes,” commented a younger worker there, a lad who was already chopping the vegetables with fingers quick like snakes. He smiled secretly down at the colorful pieces of vegetables. “But they are artists, and that gives them the right to be just a little crazy in the head, no?”
