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Across from the row of fryers stood the preparation equipment. A double basin sink sat next to a stainless steel table. The sink was used to clean and separate chicken, and was starting to look rusty in places. Next to the sink was the breading table. A large steel tabletop was set over a noisy machine. The tabletop had a large hole cut in it, and inside the hole sat a white plastic basin. This basin was filled with flour and the special blend of the Colonel's secret recipe. Before the chicken could be separated and breaded, the cook needed to fetch a clamshell. Every clamshell in the restaurant was rusty, deteriorated and damaged. They were circular wire contraptions, like bird cages filled with shelves. The cook cleaned, separated and battered the chicken, and then set the chicken pieces on the selves within the clamshell. Her hands were coated in flour and the Colonel's secret recipe was thick in the air, covering everything in a white dust. With the fryer already boiling the cook stirred the bubbling oil and dropped the clamshell inside the fryer. With the timer set for 15 minutes she set about finishing her gravy.
A giant whisk lay on the blue shelving unit beside the gigantic gravy boat. She picked up the whisk and began stirring the cauldron as she added milk, pepper, flour and water. The odor of this mixture was slightly reminiscent of the inside of a diary barn, and the appearance similar to that of vomit. It would be hours before the concoction was ready to be served as gravy, but for now the cook was happy to stand beside the warm pot, and enjoy the hot steam coming from the fryers. .
When fifteen minutes had passed since she first dropped the chicken the fryer let out a deafening hissing sound and a burst of hot steam. The handle on the fryer lid felt slippery with condensation, and yet she held on tight. The cook forced the lid upwards. The hot steam burned her face. She grabbed a hook shaped tool and pulled the rusting, bubbling clamshell to the surface of the oil.
