Silence is a good day!

If your quiet, you can here the sea sipping at the sand, the constant, sip, splash, sip, splash. If your quiet you a can here the sand breath to, breathing out the heat of the day. Quiet after the the children's grabbing fingers and joyful screams. Quiet after the grandparents natter, instantly forgetting their constant discipline "Dont DO that tommy; Dont do that;" again and again. Quiet after the tanning girls, embracing the sand through a towl, gossiping about a soap star. Now its all quiet. The stars are out, winking, smiling, old light, traveled so far to be seen in silence, enjoyed and revered, reflections of the sun's silent burning. Quietly watching; way to much quiet.

In the kitchen its calm. The eye of the storm passes and know one notices. Only the hissing sound of knives cutting through potatoes and carcass. Calm, you can hear the sound of breathing chefs, the gentle, lilting in out calm as air squeezes in and out, in.. out... Its so Calm but you dont have time to think. Run in your head not on your feet, keep calm, Run through the list of things you have to do. Eyes down and keep calm. No time to look around. If you do everyone is calm, black caps down, all eyes glued to their board in front, eyes that look around only to check a pot of sauce or glance at the clock. 6:10 the chef calls through the kitchen; "Be ready for 6:30 lads" the kitchen murmurs back "Oui chef" eyes down, reheating purees, ready for the clash of service the heat starts to prick through chefs jackets, some one runs to the fridge, and crashes into the cool calm interiour, then crashes back out. The kitchen starts to spur into movement, the calm replaced by momentum and energy, building in preperation for the oncoming storm.

Out in the corridor the waitresses titter and laugh, throwing loging looks at the busy chefs. The Maitre 'D' calls to the chef "86 for dinner chef," and the chef replies calmly; "I know, you ready?" the Maitre 'D' smiles his reply, the same sickening sweet smile he offers to a customer with a complaint, he bustles off to check on his staff. The kitchen is not still, calm but not still, CDP's recheck there mise en place and start to smile, everything is done, everything is ready "for battle". Water bottles are filled, an apprentice makes cups of coffee. The chefs like Warriors checking there armour before the blood curdling screams and arrows fill the air, they check over stations, and taste the soup. Meenwhile the pots and pans are grabbed and stacked upon each other, squeezy bottles are filled, and the purees tasted and checked. Ready for battle, the kitchen picks up pace. The apprentices clean down stations, tidy away boards and stand nervous. Waiting for the first call of check on! Last minute things are grabbed from the walk in. Last chance to be ready. CDP's call out in anger, to wondering aprentices, get me pans, get me sauce. The pace quickens. Time for quick glances at the clock and you know its going to be fine: 6:25. Your ready! Checking again your station, you feel relaxed, just about time to share a thought with your oppasite CDP and smile at the chef. Everyone can feel it coming but everybody is ready.

Its going to be a good day, the calm means its going to be a good day the battle will run smoothly, you come out of the ring feeling like a gladitor praised by crowds of onlookers admirng the spilled blood on his hands. If only everyday could be like this, you think quietly. The Chef calls "CHECK ON; 3 covers; 3 bouche, 2 melon 1 salmon; 1 lamb, 1 lobster, 1 beef medium:" the reply of six eger chefs; "OUI" all in unison, all together, ready for battle. Let it begin.