The Chicken Sisters(2)
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[DRAFT]
To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subject: The Chicken Sisters (application for Food Wars) Please pick us. We’re dying out here.
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[DRAFT]
To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subject: The Chicken Sisters (application for Food Wars) Chicken Mimi’s vs. Chicken Frannie’s would be the best Food Wars ever. They’re less than 3 miles apart, they both specialize in fried chicken, they were started by sisters who never spoke to each other again, and now they are run by my mother and my mother-in-law. My mother doesn’t speak to my mother-in-law, either.
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[SENT]
To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subject: The Chicken Sisters (application for Food Wars) Chicken Mimi’s vs. Chicken Frannie’s would be the best Food Wars ever. They’re less than 3 miles apart, they both specialize in fried chicken, they were started by sisters who never spoke to each other again, and now they are run by my mother and my mother-in-law. They are both super-excited to be on Food Wars. We all love the show and we have seen every episode.
I work at Frannie’s but I know everyone at Mimi’s too. People in town always argue about which chicken is best. It’s a good way to start a conversation, by asking which you like. The restaurants are very different, Mimi’s is pretty simple and BYOB while Frannie’s has a bar. Some people go to Mimi’s because they really love the pie but it’s better to go to Frannie’s if you have someone in your family who is a picky eater or vegetarian because they will be able to find something that isn’t chicken. Chicken Frannie’s has fried mozzarella and cheesecake.
We are pretty close to Kansas City, so it isn’t too hard to get here. They say people used to come up just to try the different chicken, back when this area was booming. Everybody wants to do this and we really hope you pick us.
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[REPLY]
To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subject: Re: The Chicken Sisters (application for Food Wars) Dear Amanda, The Chicken Sisters sound intriguing. We are wrapping up Rib Wars in Kansas City and would like to come meet you. If everything’s as you say, we’ll start filming immediately. How’s Wednesday at 2?
Sabrina Skelly, Host, Producer, Food Wars
The Food Channel
AMANDA
It was one thing to put a message in a bottle and another thing entirely when that bottle came back to you from across the sea with a genie stuffed in next to the reply. She had to rub the bottle now, right? She’d cast the spell, wished the wish, and asked in prayer, and she had received. It would be different if she didn’t believe. It wouldn’t have worked if she didn’t believe. But of course, she did believe. She believed with all her heart and soul that Food Wars had the power to change everything, and she was right.
Later, she wished she’d been a little more specific.
It had been fun, sending the e-mail. And honestly, she figured the result would be a few weeks of dreaming, of imagining how Food Wars could make everything better, followed by a letdown when they said no or just never replied. It was a lottery ticket, minus the dollar she couldn’t afford to spend.
Now she was sitting in her car outside Walmart, idly scrolling, a new habit born of an unreasonable expectation that somewhere in her phone was something that would change her mood, when the reply appeared, a response beyond her wildest dreams that sent an actual, literal chill through her body. She turned her car back on, abandoning her planned shopping trip, and backed out of the parking spot she’d just pulled into, narrowly missing a beat-up Camry. Her foot shook on the gas pedal. Her whole leg was quivering. This is it, she thought. From now on, everything will be different. Different, and better.
Better. She kept repeating that to herself, and that conviction, really this is going to make things better, helped her squash down any doubts about her mother or about Frannie’s or about what the hell Merinac was going to make of Food Wars and vice versa. It carried her past the two miles of corn and soybean fields between Walmart and Nancy’s house and right through her mother-in-law’s back door, bellowing her name. She stopped short when she saw Nancy, already in the kitchen and looking worried at Amanda’s wild entrance.
“No, no, it’s good, it’s something good. Food Wars, you know, the show with the restaurants that compete—they want to come here! To do us, us and Mimi’s. Food Wars!” She waited for Nancy’s response, biting her lip, fists clutched, a euphoric and probably goofy smile on her face. Because, Food Wars. Here!
Nancy smiled back, but it was a confused smile, a little dubious. She did not look thrilled. Why did she not look thrilled? Amanda did not need doubts right now; she needed enthusiasm. She grabbed the older woman’s hands and squeezed them tightly. “They’re going to come here. And film us, and we will win a hundred thousand dollars, and everyone will know who we are and want to eat here, and Frannie’s will be famous.” She let go of Nancy’s hands and let her feet do the little dance they wanted so much to do, waving her arms in the air and shaking her hips. “Here, they’re coming here, they’re really coming here! And we will be huge.” She grinned. “Huge!”