Wingtips at the Kitchen Line, Cold Sliders on the Side: One Star, Barely

Copper Canyon Rec Center — ORDER IN! One doubles, four on the line, table for the Corporate Wellness Mixer at Copper Canyon Rec Center, FIRE IT! By the end of service, Juniper O. and Kofi B. had sent out an 11–⁠8 win in the only game of the afternoon. Lorenzo P. and Maeve C. were left in the weeds, staring at the rail, wondering where the tickets went.

You do not work my line in DRESS SHOES. Lorenzo P. arrived at the kitchen line in polished leather like he’d come to audit the walk-in. Every lunge for a dink became a pat of butter skating across a hot pan. His third-shot drops had no seasoning whatsoever, plain boiled chicken floating gently into the net. Send it back!

And Maeve C.! After every unforced error: let’s circle back. Circle back? There is no circling back in my kitchen. The plate is on the floor! Her serves came out undercooked. Her lobs came out overcooked and nearly landed in the catered sliders, which were served COLD, by the way. Somebody find whoever plated those and 86 them immediately. A cold slider is a crime against bread.

Kofi B., meanwhile, had his mise en place sorted. Patient at the kitchen line, soft hands, resetting everything that came at him. Midway through he rolled a cross-court dink that kissed the line and simply died there. Now THAT is a beautiful dink. Yes chef. I very nearly wept into my apron.

Then the intern, Juniper O., put away the final point with a clean shot to the feet and immediately turned to apologize to her boss. NEVER apologize for a plate that goes out hot! Behind! Kofi B. had to steer her off the court before she offered to replay the rally and lose it on purpose.

The verdict: the food was acceptable. Juniper O. and Kofi B. keep their station. Lorenzo P., swap the wingtips for proper shoes. Maeve C., report back to prep at 6 a.m. Service is closed. Somebody heat up those sliders.

Service is over. Now get out of my kitchen.