(For example, for the letter A it was the 26th word on the list, for Z it was the 1st word on the list)
The onions sizzled on the grill as he attacked them with the spatula, flipping them repeatedly, on auto-pilot having done it hundreds of times. He sighed, watching his long-time employee mixing ingredients. “George, how long have you been working for me?”
The elderly man smiled. “Too long, maybe time to retire.”
“Nah, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself, would you?”
George let out a deep laugh. “True dat!”
Another sigh. Might not have a choice soon. Things are so slow and it’s the high season. Just not sure how long I can keep the place going.”
The place was The Onion Slice, a food truck he’d established while still in college. He’d taken his grandmother’s traditional recipes and, in some cases, had added his own twist. Kicky onion rings, cheesy onion flat bread, breaded onion petals, and grilled bacon wraps. But his signature item was caramelized onion pear tarts, a recipe he’d tweaked for three years before putting it on the menu.
Initially business was brisk with most coming during his attendance at local festivals and fairs. But copy cats soon joined in and his pear tarts were now the only item no one had been able to replicate. His accountant had warned him if things didn’t pick up in the next month, he would have to close or sell.
His girl friend rushed in the side door, waving a newspaper. “Did you see this?” she screamed.
He wiped his hands. “No. What’s up?”
She shook it in his face. “You did it!”
“Did what?” He frowned and reached for the paper.
“You got a rave review for your tarts in the Foodie’s Blog today. I’ve taken six specials orders this morning and there’s a line building outside.”
He peeked outside and smiled. Maybe his lucked had turned. Stranger things had happened.
Thank you.