The Good Cook

“I hope you’re as good as you say you are. We’ve really been hurtin’ for a decent cook,” smiled Dave Creveau, owner of Bayou Boat Repair, “Maybe I’ll quit losing crew so often.”

Hans Taylor smiled back, as he filled out his tax forms, “I been a cook a long time, Dave. You seen my references. I don’t see any problems.”

“ Great. Well we have twelve who live on board and six that live off the yard. I feed lunch for everybody and supper for the onboard guys. So including you, that’ll be nineteen men. Your budget is twenty two hundred a month. That okay?” Dave wrapped it up.

“That’s’ fine, Dave. I’ll stow my stuff and get started. When do we go to the grocery store?” Hans replied, picking up his bags.

Dave handed Hans an envelope, “Take the company truck and one of the guys and go after you put your things away. Good luck.”

Dave did just that, getting a yard hand named Doug to ride with him. They went to a couple of those warehouse grocery stores and to one of the better known family stores.

“Why are we pulling around back?” asked Doug as Hans backed the truck up to a loading dock.

“We’re getting the stuff they throw away because a box was crushed or can dented. There ain’t nothing wrong with it but they have to toss it anyway. I got a friend here who leaves it back here and lets me pick it up,” explained Hans glibly.

Sure enough, the stuff was there. Davy loaded the truck while Hans went inside, presumably to see his friend. Doug was sitting in the truck when Hans came out pocketing a receipt. He climbed in and started the truck.

“When do we get the meat? that’s the only thing left, ain’t it?,” asked Doug curiously.

“I’m going back to the yard now. You can lead this stuff into the boat while I go get the meat. It’ll save time,” Replied Hans.

Hans returned in his own car just as Doug had finished putting the last of the groceries away.

“Come on and give a hand with this meat,” called Hans as he parked, “leave out one of those big packages of hamburger. That’s gonna be lunch.

There was a lot of meat to feed the men for the month. Several big packages of hamburger, others labeled “Cornish game hens.” It took some effort to get it all in the freezers.

“Wow, there’s enough of it!” exclaimed Doug. Dave walked up as they were stocking the freezer looking concerned, “Hans, I hope you remembered the budget. That money has to last the month you know.”

“Not a problem, Dave. I still got some left to cover incidentals,” Hans reassured his boss.

“Huh, how ‘bout that, “grunted Dave as he went away satisfied.

The next few months went by smoothly. The crew enjoyed the meals provided by the cook, and complimented him often on how he was able to get such flavor into his meats.

Then one day, Dave hired a new welder, Lo Chi, from Vietnam. He worked that first morning and came in with the crew for lunch. Hans had made rabbit stew. It was a favorite of the crew.

As he stood in line waiting to serve himself Lo Chi sniffed the air with a puzzled expression.

“What’s up, Lo Chi? Never had rabbit before?” asked a man behind him.

“No, no, Smell like I smell before maybe. Can’t remember,” answered Lo Chi absently as he filled his bowl. As he sat and began to eat, Lo Chi took a tentative bite, then another. He then paled and spat into his bowl. He left his bowl on the table as he rushed from the boat.

“Damn Hans. I reckon ol’ Uncle Ho there don’t like your cooking,” laughed the men around the table as they ate big helpings of the stew.

Hans was quiet and sweating a little. “I better go see what’s wrong,” he muttered, reaching the door just in time to see Lo Chi and Dave coming out of the office across the yard. Dave and Lo Chi were speaking, Lo Chi very loudly with much waving of hands and Dave obviously trying to calm him down. Hans got a scared look on his face, ran to his car and drove off. Dave looked up at his departure, then he and Lo Chi got in Dave’s car.

Hans had already turned the corner before they left the gate. As Dave rounded the same corner he slowed, because he realized Hans was going to his own house by the route he was taking. Sure enough, Hans’s car was parked in his yard when they got there. Dave rang the doorbell.

“No answer. Maybe he’s in the back. Don’t worry Lo. We’ll clear this up. I’m sure you’re mistaken,” Dave said as he and Lo Chi walked around the house.

“No, no. I just spent two year in camp in Thailand. I know it when I eat. That same same,” insisted Lo Chi.

As they came around the house, several smaller buildings became visible. Some had pens attached and in the pens were several dogs and cats. In one pen there was a coop filled with pigeons. Dave was looking around confused, then he heard a banging come from yet another shed set further back. He walked to it and entered the half closed door. There was Hans. He was carrying a small cage to a back door. Just outside the back door was a pile of similar cages. The cage Hans was carrying contained about eight or nine good sized rats.

The New Orleans Times Picayune carried the headline, "Local tugboat company catch’s cook feeding house pets and rats to crew!”

The story went on to describe the slaughter house, freezers, and holding pens. It also related how the cook had been depositing thirteen to sixteen hundred dollars of the company’s food budget in his own account since he had been hired.

As the stunned crew sat reading the story, Lo Chi was heard to say, “I know rat when I taste. Been more better to eat on day he serve dog. That not bad.”

THE END