CHEF TELL

Wide oak-floor planks, cool Italian tiles, and English linoleum grounded him. Classical German and multi-ethnic music soothed his tensions as much as they aroused his projected guests’ appetites. Practical professional attire—polo shirts, aprons, and loose-fitted pants of wildly varying colors—completed the futuristic landscape in his mind.

Tell envisioned a professional world full of esoteric conversations among gourmands and—as equals—jocular repartee with the hoi polloi, cognoscenti, royalty, political insiders, celebrities, and blue-collar patrons. Added complements of imaginary food—memorable aperitifs and mouth-watering appetizers that accompanied stunning entrées and delectable desserts—completed the scenarios.

Well-selected spirits were standard fare within Tell’s thoughtful feasts.

Every one of those postulated goals would become a part of the external dressings of his soul for decades to come, well before the spoils of television entered his dreams.

An invisible crystal ball, however, also played a part in Tell’s personal world. It foretold tempestuous interactions, male and female, where tempers flew, betrayals stung, and lovers swooned. Volatile emotions ran the gamut from frigid cold through lukewarm to hot, boiling hot. The diversity of his exterior world would, in time, bring on both sublime moments and ugly emotions, though he could not foresee them now. Within his private world, Tell’s clock ticked to reach one goal only: inner peace and understanding. The specter of the loss of his mother never strayed far.