How Does Your Garden Grow?
Posted on Fri 7th Jun, 2019 @ 11:33pm by Anne da Silva
1,241 words; about a 6 minute read
Mission:
A Diplomatic Affair
Location: Shake 'n Slake, Deck 1552
Timeline: MD 1, 1745
Helena watched the diner's owner walk back toward their table. After she sat down, the pilot asked, "So. The name of your restaurant is interesting. Is there a story behind it? What's a slake anyway? I didn't see it on the menu."
Anne chuckled. "There used to be a grocery product on Earth called Shake 'n' Bake. It was a dry breading that people used to cover a piece of meat. They'd put the breading in a plastic bag along with the meat they wanted to coat. Then they'd twist the bag so it had some air inside, and shake the contents until the meat was coated. After baking, this would make for a tender, delicious piece of pork or chicken.
"For my diner, I wanted to emphasize our milkshakes, but I'm not much of a pastry chef, so using 'bake' was right out--and a copyright violation. 'Slake,' however, means to satisfy a person's appetite because they've slaked their hunger. So I went with that. I get lots of people asking me about it."
"This Thanksgiving whatever is really good," Beck said, "and I don't know that I've ever had better okra anywhere. Are these your recipes or old family favorites, or ... something else?" She glanced at Helena and raised an eyebrow. Helena nodded, so Rebecca continued. "I do believe my wingman has just indicated that you are now on our keeper list, meaning we'll be back again."
"Well, that is awfully nice of you, and I would be delighted to have you both come here any time," Anne said. She took a bite of her tomato salad, which would have been called a Margherita salad at Pub 10-42. "The fried okra is an old family recipe. My family hails from Manhattan, as well as New Orleans on Earth, so I have the East Coast and the Cajun background; it's a strange combination. What gives the okra its little kick is the black pepper and a tiny bit of Tony Chachere's* seasoning in the breading. Completely not authentic for the time period this restaurant is based in, but it keeps the okra from being boring."
Anne glanced at Helena. "So is that date wingman or pilot wingman?"
Both women laughed. Helena answered, "You aren't the first to ask, but no, we're just friends. I used to be her pilot wingman, and she's led me into more than one bit of trouble over the years, but now we mostly hang out in an Arrow, close to home."
"I can't deny leading her into trouble, but I categorically deny that she hasn't led me into some, as well," Beck responded, pushing thoughts of their last fighter mission to one side. "She doesn't even need a fighter to do it!"
After finishing the okra, best things first was her motto, Rebecca asked, "Have you always been in the restaurant business?"
"Pretty much," Anne said. "Back when I was married, my husband and I ran a deli in Manhattan. Then we got divorced, and I didn't want to live there anymore; I wanted to see the world. Never dreamed I would see space, but that's what happened. I got a job running an ice cream parlor in Disneyworld, on Earth. That led to the chance to run this little retro diner out here. I never expected to actually get the job, but hey, I'm a little retro, my own self. Next thing I knew, I was on a transport ship, headed to almost the Klingon Empire. Life's amazing, isn't it?"
"Most of the time, it is," Rebecca agreed. "That's quite a story, and a huge change for you from planet-side to distant space. I was under the impression you owned this place, but it sounds like you are a manager from someone else? Another interesting layer added to your story. Did that happen because Disney is here, too ... I'm sorry. I hope I don't sound like I'm interrogating you, but I'm always interested in people's motivations. I guess I was just born nosy."
"You might have something there," Helena snorted.
"Oh, no, I do own the place now," Anne said. "I bought it out from them when Disney decided they wanted to divest themselves of some of their smaller properties here so they could concentrate on Tivoli Gardens as a whole. They want Tivoli Gardens to be a premier Disney resort. My little diner was small potatoes, compared to that. They get out from under all the property maintenance and rental fees paid to Starfleet so they can concentrate on the amusement park, hotels, and larger properties, and leave the concession-type businesses to us. In exchange, I no longer have to have Mickey Mouse or Anna and Elsa anywhere in my establishment. I'm a happy woman. And no, you're not prying, honey. How else are you supposed to learn about the people around you, unless you ask?"
"Never let it be said that Beck doesn't ask," Nordstrom grinned. "I have to admit, though, I'm just as interested. We've been here a while, but you can imagine we spend most of our time on the flight deck or at work somewhere. This is only ... what?" she glanced at Rebecca, "The third time we've been to Tivoli Gardens in the months we've been on the base?"
"About that, I think," the pilot agreed. "We like it down here, but it's too far for us to live, because we have to be ready to scramble at all hours, in case of emergency, and if anything happens to block our access back to the flight deck, both we and the base could be in big trouble. Not that just the two of us are that important, but there are times when every warm body counts. And speaking of that, I think our time down here is just about up. Where's the nearest tram station?"
Helena sighed. "All good things come to an end. I don't understand why it has to be that way, but everyone from my great-grandmother down has always said that to me. Today's lunch is my treat, so let me know what we owe, and I'll pay it."
"That was another nice thing about buying this place from Disney," Anne said in wry tones, "I could price the way I wanted to. You'll see, the next time you go to one of the Disney-themed restaurants." She told Helena the meal cost for herself and Beck and handed her the PADD to swipe her card.
"The next time you ladies come here, I want to hear all about being pilots. What's that craft you mentioned--an Arrow? You must've both done a lot of marvelous things."
The two women exchanged glances, then smiled politely. "Maybe a few," Helena agreed, knowing Rebecca never would. "Thanks for a lovely chat and delicious meal. We may have to send a lowly crewman down for takeout one of these nights when we're working hard."
The two women left, following directions to the tram station. They arrived just in time to hear the tail end of an announcement.
=^=All passengers transporting to decks beyond 750, disembark on 750 and take the local lifts to the Promenade decks. All passengers transporting to decks beyond 750, disembark on 750 and take the local lifts to the Promenade decks.=^=
"Great," Beck said. "Isn't this why I just said we can't live down here?"
Helena shrugged. "It's just a detour, but I wonder what it's all about."
* Pronounced "SHASH-ery"
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