Writings on Parade - Part 1

I finally finished working on another little piece of writing which was originally intended for another forum, but unfortunately, I didn't feel it cut the mustard.  Here's the first part of the scrap.  I consider it a decent first attempt.  More to come later...

Drawn and Quartered

Some people talk of kitchens as well-oiled machines or even a buzzing hive mind of sorts. Joseph's kitchen was neither, but had been a finely-tuned operation from sous chef to dishwasher. Under the fist of its chef de cuisine, Joseph, each employee was born and broken in this kitchen. Such it was and had been, but the staff had grown weary.  Attrition was at an all time high.  Dinner suffered.  Lunch suffered.  Now, even the most committed line-cook had begun soliciting mutinous thoughts through gritted teeth. 

Twin stoves' sullen with grease stains smiled greedily as Joseph stepped deftly through a bubbling mixture of Spanish and English. One of his remaining sous chefs, St. Stephen, trailed after Joseph while sampling a fresh and briny batch of brie Hollandaise.  

"We've a cook warming a seat at the bar for you already, Joe." St. Stephen said through a napkin. Smearing the buttery sauce across an empty lamb-less and bone-colored plate. "Word travels much too fast. Laurent's station is hardly cold." 

"You tell him I wasn't ready for any new chefs?" Joseph said. 

"Well, I did." St. Stephen watched Joseph carefully remove two superfluous shallot cloves from his presentation. "But you need to set her straight. She's been gnawing at mine and everyone else's ear who comes in and out of this kitchen." 

Tightening his apron, Joseph narrowed his eyes.  "Better yours than mine. I'll make sure she doesn't want to go anywhere but out the front door."