From Find Me, Book One

From end of Book One

Jose stood in the middle of the street, considering his options. Cars wove around him and honked in irritation. He didn’t flinch. 

No doubt his court appointed therapist, Jane whatever her last name was, would have reported him for not reading the books she’d given him by now. How long until he was picked up again and sent back to juvie, or worse. Upstate to the big house? 

It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t read. No one taught him. No one had sat with him long enough to figure he couldn’t. Only his Abuela had read to him, but that was when he was really little. Spanish kid’s books they had lying about, brought by the social worker the month after Mom died and Dad went to prison. Now Abuela was dead, and he was dead to his sister. He was nearly out of options.

Sniff. Sniff, sniff. Something smelled good. He was hungry and the aroma made him feel things he hadn’t felt in a long time. Like being home. 

Back with family, feeling safe, happy and fed for the moment. 

He located the source. Smoke wafted from the rooftop of a restaurant he hadn’t noticed before. He couldn’t read the name, but he recognized a taco on the sign. He walked toward the building, somehow avoiding being hit while not really caring if he was. If he got taken out the money would roll in, so why look? 

He had ten bucks in his pocket, his profits from another weed sale. Hopefully that could get him some grub. Jose sat up at the counter as a hottie waitress placed a menu in front of him. 

He knew what to do, he’d done it a million times to hide his inability to read.

“Yeah, um, I forgot my glasses, can you tell me the taco choices? I can’t believe I left them at home again.”

“Sure, we have carnitas, pollo, fish, veggie which is sweet potato and pepper and barbacoa.”

“Okay, how much?”

“We’re on happy hour so it’s three for ten or two for eight.” 

“I’ll take two barbacoa. Got any mole sauce you can put on the side?”

“You got it,” she said scribbling on the pad and pushing it up into the ticket order spinner before giving it a whirl towards the chef.

Jose looked around. This place was nice. They’d done a good job decorating and it was still pretty full for being three in the afternoon. 

A hot plate of food was placed in front of Jose. Two beefy tacos with a small decanter of mole sauce and a formed mound of rice. 

“You looked hungry,” said a man through the kitchen window. 

“I am, these look pretty good.”

“You an expert?” the man volleyed before throwing his towel over his shoulder and coming around to the back of the bar counter.

“A bit. My abuela said my mole sauce beat hers. That I have a knack.”

“Oh, do you? Well tell me what you think of mine, it was my grandfather’s from the old country.”

Jose tipped the sauce onto one of his tacos and took a bite. His eyes closed as the soft beef and sauce married in his mouth. 

“Not bad,” he said, turning the taco for another bite. It was actually damn good but he was used to being a hard ass. No need to change that now. 

The chef chortled. “Glad you approve, somewhat. Hey, what’s your name Mr. Food Critic?”

“Jose Morales.” 

Javier shot instantly to his conversation with Jane, the super hero who saved Duncan under this very roof. This was the kid. The one she didn’t want to give up on but might have to. He was sure he’d blown off the idea.

“Well, Jose, are you by any chance looking for a job? I’d like to see how your mole beats mine.”

“What does it pay?”

“I pay my cooks eighteen an hour to start, going up to twenty with more responsibility. We also have a dishwasher position open.”

“Nah, I hate washing dishes.” Jose thought, maybe he could do this. He was a good cook, when he had the chance, and someone else was paying for the ingredients. “But I’ll accept your challenge on the mole. When do I start?”

“How about you come in tomorrow around ten, that’ll give us time to talk over the menu and figure out how to incorporate you into the team.”

“Why not? Hey, I should probably taste the chips, too, while I’m at it.”

“Of course, and the meal is on the house. We’ll call it future employee privileges.”

“Cool, thanks.” Jose scarfed up the other taco and dove his fork into the rice. Also good. Maybe this place would be an okay place to work? At least he would eat well, whatever meals he’d get here.

Javier stepped back into the back for a quick phone call.

Jane picked up on the second ring. “Javier, how are you? I know I need to come in for my weekly taco. I’ve been busy. Everything good?”

“I think your challenging client just walked in and scored himself a job here, so maybe get your food to go for a while and I’ll bring it out to your car. Let him get settled. He starts tomorrow. He was bragging that his mole sauce was better than his grandmother’s and my grandfather’s too. The cajones on that kid. I might be in for something.”

“Gosh, Javier, that’s the best news. I was just writing up my last report on him to give to the judge. To my knowledge he hadn’t met the requirements that I had mandated to be able to walk free in society, that is until today.”

“He seems like a tough guy, but I’m used to these types. I met a few in prison when I was there. Tough exterior hiding a soft center. He seemed proud to have something to offer. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Sounds good, thank you, Javier. This is the best news I have had all week. I hope you can get through to him where I wasn’t able to. Maybe he needs someone, a man, to look up to. This is so great.” Jane’s smile was felt through the phone. Were there tears, too?

“Bye,”

“Bye.”

Javier called to Melia, “Hey, can you get that guy at the counter some chips, a salsa flight, and our guac? He’s starting work here tomorrow, he needs to know what our food is about.”
“Yeah, boss!” she yelled back. 

*****

Jose arrived right on time. He’d woken up early and watched as the time went, trying to keep track of how long it would take him to cross town. He’d been staying on a buddy’s mom’s couch in exchange for help with yardwork and some work on her car. He walked the full three miles to get there and knocked on the door at ten.

“Jose, great you’re here. I’m cutting up the chicken and getting ready to make the fish batter. Have you followed recipes or do you just know what to add by heart?”

“I just know it by heart —my specialities anyway. I’ll watch, if that’s okay, if you’re following a recipe. 

A jab hit Javier with his need to watch, but he’d need to test his theory. “Here, can you pull everything on this list out of the walk-in for us to prep?”

“Actually, Boss, I forgot my glasses. How about if I chop up and cook this chicken for you and you can grab all the other stuff?”

“Glasses huh? Just as well, they’d probably steam up back here in the kitchen. No sweat, I’ll grab it and bring it out. Yeah, you take care of the chicken. I’ve already put out the spices, but I”m game for you to sprinkle in as you wish. You didn’t taste it, but we are pretty casual about some of the recipes. You can’t really mess up chicken.”

“You got it.” 

Jose had managed to avoid the situation again, but how would he be able to read the orders and cook them up? Maybe he hadn’t thought this through?” Fear struck.

God, he’ll be found out now. 

Javier went into the walk-in and brought out all of the produce for the lunch crowd. He set it in front of his other cook and gave the instructions before going into his office to do a little work. 

Work included rummaging for a twenty-five pack of laminated picture menus that could be used as order tickets when Jose was cooking. They had pictures on them instead of having to write out the order. Cow, chicken, fish, cheese, etcetera. 

“Hey, Melia, I need to try something. Can we have your team use these today instead of our regular order tickets?”

“Uh, okay, just circle the items, like we did before?”
“Yeah, remember when we were doing that with Rudy while he learned to read? Let’s act like this is what we do and just go back to doing it again for a while until we get Jose reading too. I think that’s what is keeping him the tough guy.” 

“Sounds good, boss. I love how well Rudy did here once he gained some confidence and we got him into the literacy program. You got it. Operation Help Jose learn to read is underway in secret.”

“You’re the best.”

“I know.” Melia scurried off to fill water jugs, organize napkins, and silverware to get ready for the lunch crowd.

Jose arrived and Javier took his information down on the form, as if that was the way he did things. Jose rattled off his current address, phone number, and his social security number that he’d memorized after realizing his mother’s death would give him some sort of regular money or help as a minor. 

It was time to start in the kitchen. Javier showed Jose the order sheets, laminated to be used over and over, they had pictures of chicken, fish, a cow, or veggies and the shapes of each of the items on the menu. Tacos, enchiladas, a steaming fajita? This job might be easier than he’d hoped it would be. 

Jose started chopping up the items to make the fresh salsa. Tomatoes, onions, garlic, cilantro, pressing on them in the bowl to pull out their flavors. He carefully cut up the jalapeño’s into a small dice and added them last, before pressing a lime into the juicer to  splash the essence in. 

Javier watched and was impressed. 

Jose started his mole sauce, which would be making its debut today. He pulled some dried chiles and poblanos off the shelf and placed them in some hot water on the butcher block. Dropping some chicken in a big pot along with a whole cut onion and a smattering of garlic cloves, he deftly walked around the kitchen gathering ingredients before walking over to his coat and pulling a nearly spent plantain out of his pocket to his boss’s surprise. 

He moved in silence as if in a trance. He’d done this hundreds of times. Peppercorns, pepitas, almonds, raisins, crushed cinnamon stick, sesame seeds, marjoram, thyme and cumin went into a pan to flash toast before being set aside for later. He smelled the mixture and was pleased. 

The rich smells permeated the nostrils of the other workers and Melia shot a look his way. 

So smooth was Jose as he moved around the kitchen. A swirl of olive oil hit the pan next and the wetted, formerly dried peppers fell into the oil, sizzling. He turned them quickly to brown, not nearly charred, to awaken the gems but not burn them before they were tossed into a quart of the steaming batch of strained chicken broth that had been going. The plantain hit the pan along with a toss of the plain animal crackers that Javier kept for any littles that may come into the restaurant. 

A broken piece of piloncillo and a disc of Abuelita chocolate was tossed into the brew. 

After the peppers were activated, everything went into the blender for a spin. He dropped a spoon into the blend and tossed in some salt before grabbing another spoon to dial it in. It would simmer now for about a half an hour, thickening up to be the rich and unforgettable flavor bomb that had gotten him the job. 

Javier stopped over at Jose’s station.

“Smells incredible. Mind if I have a taste?” 

“Go for it. I’ll start working on the red and verde sauces. Let me know if there are any special ingredients you want in there.” 

Javier dipped a spoon into the rich chocolatey goop. He closed his eyes and took in each of the flavor tones. “Extraordinary,” he gasped. 

“I know. I’m the best. Good thing you have me here. I don’t know how you got along without me.” 

Jose was full of himself. His bravado attitude was his whole personality and the only way he could manage. He kept up his tough exterior in front of others, but on the inside he was afraid that people would find out what a fraud he was. He wasn’t smart, he didn’t have anything really going for him other than knowing who to talk to, to make a drug score. He never knew where he was going to sleep next and he didn’t have a plan. But man, could he make a mole sauce.

Javier pulled some shredded chicken off the line and ladled some of the mole over it for the crew to taste before they opened. Everyone gasped, licking their lips and asking for more. 

“Oh my god,” said Melia.

The rest of the crew scattered to get ready to open. Jose tended the sauces. He was in a groove, grinding spices with his glove-covered hands and tossing them into the mixes.

Javier just watched him. Jose was in his element. He didn’t need to read to cook great food; he didn’t need to be educated to put together recipes from the heart. As the orders came in, Frank pulled them down and said them aloud to Jose. 

“Fish tacos with extra verde sauce on the side. No onions.”

“Got it,” said Jose. He could take direction, even remember what was on the order he just couldn’t read the letters, words that were in front of him. 

Lunchtime went fast. Jose threw a couple of chips in his mouth around one and was ready to start making more sauces for dinner. 

“Hey, boss, okay if I make the sauces again? I’m having fun. I think I can add a little more spice to the red sauce and get away with it, with a little sour cream added. 

“You bet, let ‘er rip!” People were coming up to all of the front house staff and raving about the food. “Happy to have you onboard.” 

“Good to hear. I might step out for a cigarette and eat something before things get too crazy.”

“Absolutely, you need to take breaks from being on your feet. Dinner can be crazy too. A lot of college students like to come by on the weekends. Cheap ramen noodles all week, they need a good meal come Friday night.”

“I’ll be back in ten minutes. Three to eat, seven to smoke.”

Javier just nodded. This kid had promise. He had been so focused on his cooking, he hadn’t gotten bent out of shape about anything. Had hardly noticed when the other two cooks were popping off at each other. 

The night brought over a hundred diners, the kitchen was hot and frantic. Jose seemed to thrive in the chaos. He wolfed a carnitas taco with some of his mole at seven just to push through. 

“We really don’t mind if you stop and eat. We take turns,” said Frank.

“I don’t want to stop. This is the most fun I’ve had in I don’t know how long. It reminds me of the big dinners we would have with my family when I was little, before everything went to hell.”

“Hell, huh,” said Frank. “Hey, man, if you ever want to talk about things, I’m here. I haven’t had such an easy time either. Many of us here have been in the joint. Javie has given us the second chance we all needed. This place feels like home to us now. The rush is over, now we’ll make our staff dinner. We use up all the food we have leftover or if there isn’t anything, we make it up fresh, something hearty so we all crash tonight.”

“Staff dinner sounds good. I am hungry. I was only snacking throughout the day.”

“What do you want to contribute to staff dinner?”

“I want to save my sauces for tomorrow. I’ll make some corn tortilla soup. Won’t take long, I can use up some of those tortillas we had.”

Staff dinner started with everyone talking about what they made. Some people had a craving after the long day, other people just wanted to get something done so they could be done. Frank made a rice dish slathered with queso. Melia made mocktails using blackberry syrup and ginger beer. Javier made churros dipped in vanilla and chocolate ice cream. Jose made his corn tortilla soup. It had chicken broth, corn, and tortillas blended into a smooth slurry before he added black beans and crushed jalapenos and chunks of tomato. A splash of sour cream accented the top. 

As Jose ate, everyone started telling their story of how they found Taco O’ Rama. 

Javier started. “I spent some time in the pen. A year was enough for me to straighten up. I’d been a shoplifter for all of my teens, stealing dumb stuff just for the thrill. When my parents kicked me out I had to get a job so I started working retail at a little store in Golden, Colorado. Malcolm hired me on the spot and I thought what a fool. I started stealing from the till almost immediately, pocketing tens or twenties whenever I had the chance. After a while of the accounts not adding up, he installed some cameras that were very well hidden and I was caught. The owner wanted me to learn the lesson but not be sent somewhere serious. He suggested community service and a halfway house and the judge agreed. I ended up in a houseful of pretty decent but still messed up guys and spent 120 hours working in a soup kitchen. That ignited my love of cooking. It was either learn to love it or never go near a kitchen again. I’m glad I chose the enjoy the kitchen route. Six years later, I bought this restaurant after the owner retired. He taught me everything I needed to learn to run the business and set me up to succeed. Everyone deserves a chance to find their thing.”

Frank high-fived Javier. “Awesome, man.”

Melia went next, “I found this place while fleeing an abusive relationship. I had been living in California with my then boyfriend, he was acting as my agent to help me get acting gigs. With no experience, I was attracting only non-speaking parts which weren’t paying the bills. Denny hadn’t been patient. With each failed audition, he got angrier and angrier until one day he slapped me across the face. It only took once. I packed up my stuff while he was taking a shit and never looked back. He hasn’t tried to contact me. I think he knew he stepped over a line. Glad to be rid of him. This place, this city has come to mean so much to me. I love the beauty of the mountains nearby, and how I can be out in nature within twenty minutes and the people are five star.” Melia winked at Javier. 

“We’re really happy and lucky to have you.” He gave her hand a friendly but brotherly pat. 

Jose appreciated hearing everyone’s stories. He was in good company for the shit he’d been through. 

Frank was next. 

“I spent a few years locked up. My girl and I were on the outs, I could tell. I didn’t want to lose her, but I didn’t know how to keep her either. We were out at a bar and a guy looked at her just a little too long for my liking. I pulled him outside and beat him up. Broke a couple of his ribs and punched his face until a group of guys pulled me off of him. The rage I felt was intense. My girl ended up feeling so bad for him and what I’d done, she visited him in the hospital every day until he was better. Today they’re married with three kids. So I guess I’m responsible for putting them together— although she never thanked me,” he threw in with a chuckle.  “Really, it was what needed to happen. I ended up at Camp George West. I was actually pretty lucky there. We had to work hard but it was small. No doubt I would have been in big trouble in a larger place, I’m not the biggest guy…”

Dave went next. “I stumbled in here, drunk as all get out. No money, slurring my words. Javier gave me some food to eat and sat with me, waiting for the alcohol to leave my system.”

“You were the drunkest I have ever seen anyone. I actually thought you might die if I didn’t do something.”

“Yeah, I had a problem back then. But you helped me get into AA and now I go to meetings a couple times a week and never touch the stuff. My whole life has changed. I don’t even mind being a busser and dishwasher. When I’m over the sink I can just zen out, feel the steam on my face, and the rush of clean water, and pile up dishes ready for their next adventure. I go to sleep every night satisfied and knowing I will never again go to that place. I’m going to school at night to become an alcohol treatment counselor. I want to share what I’ve experienced to help others.”

“So proud of you man, you are doing great. Glad you stumbled in here.”

Jose was overcome with the stories. He never shared about his life. He never let on that he was anything but perfect. 

Somehow his lips parted and he spoke.

“My parents are both dead. My mom died of drugs when I was ten. My dad died in prison about three years ago. My sister doesn’t talk to me. After my mom died and my dad went to jail, I went to live with my abuela and she was the one who taught me how to cook. She was the one who taught me about flavors and how to treat the peppers and blend everything together.” He let out a sigh. 

With his next breath, he spoke up. “And I don’t know how to read.” Jose hung his head.

“Hey man, thanks for sharing that stuff. It couldn’t have been easy to go through that or to tell us. We hope you know that you’re safe here, and we all want good things for you. You are a part of the Taco O’ Rama family, Jose, we got your back.”

Everyone stood up and put a hand on his shoulders. Jose felt uncomfortable but let their hands stay. He felt his eyes misting over, but sniffed them back in. After a minute he coughed, shaking them off, “Okay, let’s get to grubbing so we can get this kitchen clean and go, I’m beat. First day at my very first job, I’m wiped out. But I’ll be back tomorrow, right, boss?”

“You better believe it. I have a feeling you have a real future here. We needed a little flavor kick in the pants.”

Javier pulled Jose aside while everyone was on closing tasks. “So, another guy who worked here couldn’t read. He had trouble with the letters. We found a program and now he reads. Hell, he works for the newspaper as a reporter. Maybe we’ll look into that?”

“I think so.”

“Great, we can take it slow and you can practice here. I’m glad you came in here and talked up your mole. It really is the best I’ve ever had. Sorry, Grandfather.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Jose has you beat, Abu.”

Over the next six months, Jose found his groove and his sense of self. Reading came but slowly. Once the words came, he found that he liked spending time at the library being surrounded by stories that he could take his time with. He’d been taught some tricks to decipher what the words actually were versus what they looked like to him. Using his finger to follow the letters, choosing beginner books and practicing. Recognizing the first and last letters and determining what the word was based on the other words around it. Picture books were key in figuring out the main concepts. He also loved listening to audio books while following along. He found a great love for stories. 

Yes, no one had read to him when he was young, and no one had taken an interest in him enough to realize he couldn’t read, but he could give all of it to himself. As a man, as a smart and spicy person who deserved everything life had to offer.

*****

Jane Monroe stopped by the Taco O’ Rama for her weekly meal. She hadn’t been into the restaurant for six months, taking her orders to go per Javier’s suggestion. 

It was a mellow Tuesday, about an hour past the busiest time when she arrived. 

To her surprise, Jose brought out her food and sat down. It was her favorite meal, chicken enchiladas with his mole, his street corn salad, and his refried beans. 

“So yeah,” he said. “I just want to say sorry for being such a jerk to you all those months you were trying to help me. I was a selfish, stuck up pig, and you didn’t deserve any of my lip.”

“It’s okay, Jose. And I’m sorry I didn’t realize some of the things you were dealing with. You taught me a lot. Javier said you’re reading now, and that’s a huge accomplishment. I’m very proud of you.”

“Thanks, I’m proud of me too.” He smiled. She’d never seen his teeth. He had a great smile. 

“Hey, will you join me? I would love to catch up a bit.”

“Sure! Be right back.” Jose came back with a plate matching hers of his own. “You do pick the best things on the menu.”

They sat and talked and even laughed. Jane shared how she had bought that ugly old building and how she had turned it into a wellness clinic. She was hoping to have group therapy for kids on the edge and wondered if he would ever come and share his story. 

“Yeah, I think I’m ready to open up about all that, and finally let it all go. I’m even seeing my sister again. I invited her here for a staff dinner and everyone was talking me up so much, she decided to give me another chance. I even babysit her son sometimes. I have a nephew. A family again. Actually two families. One with her and one here.

Everything had worked out better than she’d hoped. The stars aligned. Somehow, Jose found his way home by himself.

Jose would never know what a literary adventure he had missed.

~