Friday Fiction: Bon Appetit

Stella woke at four AM. She had a feast to prepare, and if it were to be done by noon, she had to ignore the screams of her body and get busy. She had to have the ham baking before the sun peaked over the eastern horizon on this glorious Easter morning.

Stella was a chef de cuisine. She’d devoted her life to studying the finer culinary artists in the villas of Italy and the bistros of Paris and even the best bed and breakfasts Vermont had to offer.

Since she was six years old and added a half of a jar of processed parmesan cheese to her blue box of macaroni and called it gourmet, she was hooked on creating foods and delicacies and juicy morsels.
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