🔥 Best Served Hot

Lake Nakuru Lodge is a stunning attraction for locals and foreigners alike, offering earthy state-of-the-art accommodation, a myriad of engaging activities and facilities, and unobstructed views of the pink carpet of flamingoes that call the Lake home. Hinga had never so much as stepped on the road leading to the enchanting taste of heaven; working there exceeded his wildest expectations. The staff throughout the property were as hospitable to guests as they were with each other, subverting Hinga’s presumptions about their superficiality. The camaraderie was palatable and infectious, and Hinga was thrilled his first Kenyan employment experience had kicked off so positively.

The executive chef, Joshi, was a burly, wizened man with five decades of experience cooking up storms. He had refined his skills in African, Indian, and European cuisines but gravitated toward the African, making him a perfect mentor for Hinga. Joshi’s eagle-like agility around pots, pans, and ingredients shaved several years off his age. Still, he was nearing retirement and found Hinga’s gritty but unpolished talent precisely what he needed in a protégé.

While there are several ways to skin a cat, Joshi guided Hinga to the most efficient methods that catered to their diverse clients’ needs and requests. The fast-paced cauldron of a four-star hotel called on the kitchen’s ability to churn out dishes quickly yet concisely. Hinga had been familiar with the front-facing complexities of this task at a diner scale, but this was a whole other kettle of fish.

With time, patient coaching, and keen emulation, Joshi’s confidence and skill began rubbing off on Hinga. The Lodge’s guests took note of Hinga’s development, too, inviting compliments and requests for his newly-signature salads and cold cuts. Hinga spent four years under Joshi’s tutelage before earning his sous chef stripes. His predecessor, Belinda, took over after the guru hung up his toque blanche.

The staff sorely missed the familiarity of Joshi’s paternal presence in The Lodge’s culinary heart, none more than Hinga. Concurrently, he saw it as an opportunity to leave the nest and make a name for himself outside Joshi’s shadow. He didn’t need anyone in town thinking he hadn’t toiled for whatever success he achieved from that point on, especially not his folks. Since he started at Lake Nakuru, Hinga had opted for hotel staff accommodations to be closer to work and farther from home. He’d visit on weekends to see Shosh and Wanja. Though the money he contributed to domestic expenses seemed to win him his parents’ approval, they never once made their way to his pride and joy.

Hinga had bigger fish to fry; he was building his reputation as an independent chef. He was beyond content with his role and didn’t even aspire for the higher rung of the kitchen ladder. Belinda, a tiny, lithe, middle-aged German, was generous, humble, and easy to work with. She was no Joshi, but she never made Hinga resent her management style. He was free to do his thing as long as he abided by their established protocols. Now, life was okay: a recipe for complacency.

The familiar companion Hinga had discovered in America while frustrated about his job prospects called to him once more. He was surprised by the intensity of his impulse to drink since he was finally getting his ducks in a row. But he had always been clever and gifted; he was confident he could balance his career, limited social life, and the occasional tot. Besides, the buzz renewed his zest for life. He could strike up and sustain a lively conversation with anyone. Spirits dissipated his doubts and insecurities. He even credited them with making him a better cook.