Emma was a spitfire. At twenty-three, she was the youngest Executive Coordinator ever hired at a Culinary School in the Southeast. She was the anomaly in a field otherwise dominated by older male chefs entrenched in the area’s restaurant scene. The lanky food-lover hurried to get to know every chef that opened a restaurant in her town inviting them to showcase their food in one of her many classes. She viewed her position as a stepping stone to her dream job – restaurant public relations and marketing.
Sitting at her linen-covered table, she shook her head, hoping with desperation she could let go of work for two days. She wanted forty-eight hours to enjoy the beach, but the food on the island called to her, leading her to a new restaurant famed for its play on Southern cuisine.
Her meal was exquisite - pecan-crusted salmon and Portobello cheese grits with wilted greens. She savored every delicate bite allowing the sweet, rich flavors to mingle and fill her palette and soul with the peace she desired.
Taking her last sip of tannin-rich Pinot Noir, she asked her waitress, “Could you please ask Chef to come to the table so I could pay him my compliments in person?”
“Absolutely!” the summer-bronzed woman replied, making haste to the kitchen.
Distracted, Emma’s eyes wandered around the restaurant spying lovers in dimly lit corners, and paintings with bright, contemporary colors. She was at home in her surroundings and filled with confidence.
Seconds later the chef stepped into the dining room. Dressed in crisp, formal whites, toque sitting atop his head, he appeared to be seven feet tall. Emma’s breath caught in her chest as the handsome, mysterious man approached the table, his self-assured stature enchanting.
She offered her hand and began to speak, but instead of shaking it in response, Chef pulled Emma to her feet, twirling her out into the middle of the room, her shapely, tan legs peeking out from under her short, flowing red dress. Captivated, Emma fell into the moment, letting Chef’s hand in the small of her back direct her every step.
With nary an introduction, they danced around the room to cascades of Sinatra’s snappy beat, swaying back and forth, the music guiding them closer and closer to one another. When the tune ended, Emma’s cheek was pressed against that of the chef’s, her right hand curled tightly in his left, her knees trembling, announcing her coolness had long since left her.
It’s your turn to join the conversation. Do you think this really happened? Does it sound eerily similar to something you’ve experienced? Comment and tell us what Unstoppable moments have occurred in your own life.
Until tomorrow’s reveal, I remain Unstoppable.
Yes, I think this really happened! I had a similar experience on my last cruise. I went into one of the lounges to listen to some music; when the band got to a slow song, the lead singer came over to me and pulled me onto the dance floor, singing to me into the mike as he guided my every step. It was magical!
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