A gently herbaceous smell wafted up to her nostrils. The plate was a splash of color: plum and lime, neon orange and bright red; in the middle of which nested a carpaccio. Catalina's eyebrows shot up and then melted down. 

"Damn. That's the best thing I have ever tasted," she said. 

Mira took a bite: meat as soft as butter, tinged with a sweet burst and a tang of sour sauce. She felt almost as though she might melt, herself. That was the best thing she had ever tasted, too. 

"I could eat that and just more and more of that for my whole meal," Catalina said, finishing her glass of sparkly. She raised her hand to the waiter and tapped the glass, then raised two fingers.

"Shush -" she said as Mira opened her mouth to protest, "we are ubering home so we can enjoy this experience to the full."

Two glasses appeared on the table, bright red strawberries bobbing in the bubbles. 

The place took on a kind of quiet as the waiters vanished, only to appear with tray adorned with the next meal. The young man with the sparkling blue eyes placed a plate in front of Mira, and then Catalina, and then one in the middle of the table. 

"Your main meal," the voice from the darkness said, "is an ode to the cherry tomato." It sounded like there was a smile in his voice. "Before you are toilles, made from quinoa, twisted and crisped into scoops. Scoop a tomato and it's accompaniments into the toille and enjoy," he said. "I suggest pushing your tongue against the tomato, and feeling it pop inside your mouth," he said in a deeper voice, with a small chuckle.

Mira could almost hear the excited giggles from the ladies in the room. 

On the plate before them lay several cherry tomatoes, their skins taut and intact, surrounded by strands of a green vegetable, lightly coated in a creamy-looking sauce.

"Hell yes," Mira said, grabbing a touille and scooping. Mira took one and scooped as instructed.

She popped the contents into her mouth, with the touille, and tried to pop the tomato in her mouth. It gave with a satisfying pop, and from within exploded the most exquisite flavors. Mira's eyebrows shot up again. 

"He put something in them!" She burst into laughter. "That is so creative. I wonder how he did it. Injected a sauce into them or something? How did he get them to pop like that?" She giggled, drinking her champagne. 

The dish didn't look like much food, but by the time Mira scooped the last of the tomato and sauce, she was full. She smiled, sipping the last of her own bubbly. 

"Not sure if it's the bubbly or the food or both but I feel amazing," she said. 

Catalina chuckled, gesturing to the waiter to bring another two. 

Once again, the waiters disappeared, before reappearing with trays. The smell of chocolate enveloped the room, even before they arrived at the table. he it's time for dessert. Mira smiled at Catalina, who was making tipsy googly eyes at the young man near the door. He watched her with a smirk, and a kind of animal hunger in his eyes. She hiccuped and giggled.

"Who is he, by the way?" Mira asked. 

"I met him the other night at a bar. What's his name? Pierre or something? Anyway, he's cute. Got us this table, so he obviously needs a thank you at some point." She hiccuped again and giggled. 

The waiter placed two small plates in front of them: a strange shaped.. something, and a pouring cup of melted chocolate. The waiter stepped back and folded his hands in front of his apron. From behind the dusky smoke, a figure appeared: tall, with dark curling hair and intelligent eyes, dressed in black chef's attire. The room erupted in applause. The chef. The voice from behind the curtain had made an appearance.

He smiled a cheeky smile and bowed. "Thank you," he said, just as husky as before. "Thank you for coming here tonight to experience my food. I hope you all have enjoyed," the room erupted in applause again.

"For our last dish, the dessert, the best part: you will notice that there are no utensils. This is purposeful. The point is to experience the dessert as more than food, and that may mean different things to different people." He gave a chuckle. "Try to enjoy it before it runs away."

The waiter beside Mira then lifted the metal pourer and poured the melted chocolate along the curved pillar on the plate. Delighted laughter sounded through the room as waiters whispered to their guests what to do. Mira glanced around and saw patrons leaning down, shifting their hair behind their shoulders, and licking the chocolate from the pillar. They lifted their faces away with expressions of amazement and delight, some with glee.

Her jaw drops. Licking it off?

Her waiter nudged her as the chocolate ran down, pooling at the foot of the pillar. Oh. Catalina had slurped hers up long ago, and was encouraging the waiter, with a giggle, to pour the chocolate directly into her mouth, which he promptly did. Mira couldn't help but chuckle at her friend, giggling and smacking her lips.

She caught sight then of the chef, who glanced at Catalina with a grin. His eyes flickered to Mira, and then to her shirt: a t-shirt in navy blue, to the melted chocolate pooling at the foot of her dessert. Mira watched as a small frown prickled between the chef's eyebrows. Like confusion, like disdain; and the corner of his mouth drooped down. The waiter, now having lost all interest in her, was watching Catalina too. 

Her cheeks reddened. She turned to the waiter and cleared her throat. "Please pour it again," she said, and his attention snapped back to her. He poured some more of the chocolate, and Mira leaned down to lick it off. But it felt so awkward, her nose smeared into the pillar, which she then realised was some kind of hardened mousse. She lifted her head, her lips stained with dessert, her nose sticky. She tasted it then: the rich toffee flavor of the mousse, it coated her tongue and fizzled her taste buds.

Her eyes widened as the delicious taste bloomed, she glanced back at the chef but his attention had been pulled away by others in the room. He clapped as guests 'ooh'ed and 'ahhh'ed in delight. 

"Thank you," and he disappeared back into the kitchen. 

"He's hot." Catalina said. "One more drink, they're winding up to get us all out of here." She signaled the waiter for one more glass each. 

"You going home with the doorman?" Mira chuckled, taking her glass.

"Not yet, he has to help clear up," she rolled her eyes. "But hopefully after. Here he comes," she said. 

The man approached the table and smiled at Catalina. "I'm glad you came," he said.

"Thank for the invite," she batted her eyelashes.

"Maybe I'll see you later," he said. 

The chef appeared and shook the doorman's hand. Mira could feel her cheeks redden.

"Good dinner, man. Everyone loved it."

The chef smiled. 

"We might be heading out for a drink after," the doorman said, "if you'd like to join."

The chef glanced down at Catalina and smiled, and then turned his gaze to Mira.

"Not really my crowd, thanks. See you later, man," he said, before walking away.

"Ruuuude. Couldn't even greet us." Catalina said, before standing. "Let's get out of here."