It occurred to me about halfway through the day that I probably could have phrased the ad better. “WANTED: FOOD TASTER” gave the impression that I was some paranoid medieval queen looking for a servant to test my food for poison, which would explain why every applicant I’d interviewed so far seemed to have a death wish or a LARPing habit. Or both, in the case of the guy who came in with a sharpened longsword.

So I didn’t have high hopes for Applicant Number Eight, a dark-skinned girl about ten years younger than me, at least, with a cloud of curly hair around her head. But at least she wasn’t carrying a sword.

“So, why did you apply for this job?” I asked, pencil and notepad at the ready. She tapped her foot against the floor, thinking.

“Okay, so, it’s like - I’m just gonna say it. Have you seen Ratatouille?”

“The movie with the mouse?”

“He’s a rat. But yeah. The rat who wants to be a chef in Paris.”

“I’ve seen it.” An image of animated cheese appeared in my mind. They really did capture the way light diffuses through food in that movie. They must have consulted with expert chefs. I remembered sitting in the theatre marveling at how it seemed I could almost smell the food right there.

Of course, now any sense of smell was my imagination. That thought sent a jab of pain to my gut, which I forced myself to ignore. The whole point of today was to make sure this… setback did NOT ruin my decade-long career.

“Okay, you know the part where he bites the cheese and the world goes all musical and colorful, and then he bites the strawberry and there’s different music and different color, and then he tries them both together and it’s a whole new song and light show combined, like fireworks?”

I nod for her to continue.

“It’s like that. I love thinking about that. How different things taste together. It’s like art to me - like I don’t think I’m synesthetic, but it makes sense to me to think of it as colors and music and how things work together in, in harmony, you know?”

I did know. That’s what drew me to be a chef in the first place: the art of it, the discovery, the magical combinations of smell and taste.

“So then I read your ad,” she continued, “and I saw the bit at the bottom, that you were a chef? And I just thought - here’s my chance. I don’t have the funds to experiment with food like that at home. But to do it for work? That would be amazing.”

I set my notepad aside.

“About a month ago, I suddenly lost all sense of taste and smell,” I said. Her eyes widened. “I know. It’s been hell. That’s why I need your help. I think you’re the perfect person to help me.”