The Workshop: A Tale of Edible Delights by danieller123

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5384904/1/The_Workshop_A_Tale_Of_Edible_Delights

Official Description: Isabella Swan is a famous chef with a short fuse and lackluster love life. Edward Cullen is a single father trying to balance raising his child and making it big in the food industry. What happens when he becomes Bella’s new sous chef? A/H A/U Rated M

Don’t miss When Emmett Met Bella: The Workshop’s History

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algonquinrt says: It’s no secret in the fandom that there’s nothing I like more than a bold, brassy Bella full of The Swears. Add in a pretty-boy, tatted-up Edward and a restaurant featuring fine dining and you had me at the disclaimer in the first chapter. Such is the case with The Workshop: A Tale of Edible Delights, by danieller123.

In The Workshop, Bella is a celebrity chef with a distinct Gordon Ramsey feel to her. His demeanor in Hell’s Kitchen has nothing on her, and it comes as no surprise that she’s friends with him, and is going in on a new restaurant with him after she opens the one in Miami. Of course, she needs a sous chef she can train to be an executive chef before she can move on, and that’s where Edward comes in. The self-trained younger brother of her long-time friend and general manager, Emmett, she hires him based on gut instinct, ignoring his baggage, which includes a young daughter and insane ex.

Bella’s take-no-prisoners personality doesn’t spare her employees, and she opens each night of service with a meeting, venting to and about co-workers and asking her employees to do the same:

I walked into the dining room and then behind the bar to address the staff. My speeches were not the norm and I saw Emmett trying to hold his composure as he knew what was to come. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

“Fucking mother fucking hell on a God damned donkey dick with extra cheese on the side! Fuck!”

There were several snickers, a lot more gasps, one ‘holy shit’ and of course Emmett and Edward’s distinct laughter.

“You’re next, give it all you got,” I pointed to a skinny kid down in front named Ben.

“Um, what?” He asked nervously.

“Tonight is going to be the worst fucking night of your life. I suggest getting it all out now, kid,” I pointed to him again.

“Uh,” he tugged at his collar and looked around nervously.

I walked around from the bar and leaned towards the kid.

“I ordered extra sauce! My fucking mash is cold! This table is fucking dirty! I said Diet coke! What are you fucking retarded!? I want to see a manager! I’m not paying for this shit! This is dry! I need extra napkins! Got any more ketchup?! What’s taking so long?!”

“Stop! Fucking stop! Shit!” He covered his ears and cringed back from me.

Of course, the sparks fly between foul-mouth Bella and her young protegee, and they soon violate most work fraternization policies with some fairly hot sex, including defiling her restaurant’s kitchen. No doubt the health department would have been horrified.

The story keeps its momentum with several plot twists all relating back to Edward’s crazy ex and several mis-steps by the characters, none of whom really know how to deal with things thrown their way. It has a fairly low angst factor, although the death of a major character is sure to throw many readers into a snot-sobbing mess.

Warning to grammar Nazis that there are some frequent errors that can be distracting but the characters alone are worth sticking it out. There are enough lemons in there to keep the smut-seekers happy, and the banter between all the characters is pure win. Edward’s grandparents are hilarious (and I do love a good grandparent in a fic). I was also inordinately flattered to see a thorough bashing of the name Baby Swan in a chapter.

If you love good food, good banter, a lot of swearing and an inked Edward with a soft middle, The Workshop is a must-read.

Kassiah says: So, I apparently have a weakness for DILFward. And tattward. And Spanish-speakingward. Tie them up together and that’s what you get in The Workshop. I love this story and am so glad my ficmistress, littlesecret, told me about it.

Like Algie said, it is a great fic with awesome smut, good banter, and a great plot. I love how strong Bella’s character is–it isn’t often that Bella is the authority figure in their relationship, so I really love how she hands Edward’s ass to him on a platter in this one.

“Reason- I’ll give you about twenty five reasons.” He dug into his pocket and pulled my list out, tossing the crumbled ball onto my desk.

“You’re pissed about a list and your stupid chef jacket?” I grabbed the balled up paper and tossed it in the trash can.

“No…I’m not pissed, because if I were pissed, that would mean I give a fuck.” His eyes flared as he stared intently at me.

“Stop with the melodramatic bullshit, Edward. It really grates my ass. However, if you didn’t give a fuck, you wouldn’t have come in my office. As a matter of fact, you wouldn’t have come back at all.” I moved back to my typing and I allowed my words to simmer in his mind, letting him know that I saw right through his ass.

“You’re right.” He nodded.

Told you.

“What am I doing here?” He rose from his seat.

Maybe not. Shit.

“You walk out that door Flower Child and your ass is gone. Don’t even think that I am fucking bluffing.” I glared at him as he palmed the knob.

“I can’t be here, Bella.” His voice was gravely and deep as he closed his eyes and clenched his jaw tightly.

“Well that is too fucking bad. The other night I told you I wasn’t trying to be insensitive, well guess what Flower Child, right now I am going to extremely insensitive to you.

Running away just because shit gets thick is not a way to solve anything. So sit your pussy ass down and shut the fuck up while I teach you something.” I kept my eyes on him as he released the door knob and took his seat again. His eyes remained down, but mine were planted firmly on his soured faced, as he hung his head and started picking with the damn thread again.

“If you cannot handle dealing with this shit and working at the same time, you may as well just throw in the towel now, because it doesn’t get any easier. You are going to miss birthdays, holidays, have people sue you left and right and pretty much have an attorney on speed dial. Your lil’ baby mamma and all her corrupt mindfuckeriness, will be a welcomed part of your life after you deal with all the other shit.

You walk in here thinking that you are the only one with shit on your plate. Everyone has a plateful Flower Child, starting with me and running right down to the bussers.

You know what happens when I walk in with all my shit and decide to take it out on everyone else though? Decide not to give a fuck and not do my job? Your brother Emmett doesn’t get a paycheck, Angela’s kids don’t get fed, your kid doesn’t get fed and my business gets flushed down the fucking toilet. It’s my job to give a shit and I find it highly insulting that you do
n’t think it is yours.

You want to be pissed over an article of clothing, then you apparently weren’t listening to me when I told you that fancy little chef coats didn’t matter. I am pretty sure you were sitting right there when I explained to your father the difference between a cook and a chef and defined a chef as someone who leads, but I don’t remember saying shit about what you were wearing in order to do it. I do however, remember making you sign a contract that stated you were being hired as my Sous Chef and would comply with all the duties required.

You have two options at this point. You can either suck it up and grow a pair or give me your fucking time card. Contrary to your thinking, I am not a babysitter and I don’t have time for fucking games.
There are one thousand three hundred and fifteen other people who work for me, one’s that I could be paying attention to right now, other than you, and….” I pulled open my bottom drawer and slammed the heavy file on my desk.

“…Over five hundred applications for your fucking job- in the state of Florida alone. I refuse to beg your ass to stay and work a job you don’t give a fuck about, when there are thousands who would love to fill your shoes and could, very easily. I am going to answer this email…” I pointed to my screen. “You have until I press send to make up your mind.”

There’s so much going on in here, and I don’t want to give away too much, but definitely check this story out. Oh yeah, and it meets my 5-chapter rule. By. Chapter. Three. Read it, you won’t be disappointed.