Both Asha and Ronjon went back in later. An hour more and the doctor came out from the operating room. All of them stood right away, aside from Asha, who slept, exhausted from crying.
"Who are the relatives of Shaheb Arup Mukherjee?"
Asha blew air in exasperation. "Okay, Chef Ronjon Munshi.""Why is the chef title being inserted in this conversation?" Ronjon asked as one of his brows raised.
In the illustrious culinary city of Paak, male chefs garnered popularity and received recognition compared to females. They said women were mainly to serve and feed their husbands and children, while men basked in glory as skilled chefs.Men filled the kitchens in the renowned restaurant, while women waited in their households for their men to come home with their pay.
Asha couldn't forget the last letter her father left her before they hung him. This was the letter,Asha,
Asha arrived at a diner at the corner of a busy street where small, close-packed office buildings were situated. She walked in a small kitchen and stepped sideways, passing her busy co-workers in their workstations."Asha, why are you late today? This is not you," Charbi, the head chef, said. He is a tall man of six feet in his thirties. He glanced at Asha while kneadi
After cooking her last dish, Asha darted to school. She would graduate this school year from her second higher education. She could have graduated a year ago, but her situation was dire after her father's death.She could hardly understand the teacher's words because her mind was full of the things she would do for the competition tomorrow. After class, she ran home, a
Asha cooked the last batch of Chicken Torkari. She began the batch of her Baba's special Bapa Pitha. This sweet rice cake was a traditional delicacy cooked in winter. However, her father's recipe was special compared to the common one and was a hit in their restaurant.The common recipe was ground rice combined with shredded coconut and steamed with molasses fillings.
Charbi faced Ronjon and clapped his palms together. "Nomoshkar. Hi, Sir. I'm Charbi, the head cook here. What can I do for you?"Ronjon did the same action, "Nomoshkar," and extended his hand. "I only have a few questions to ask, so please sit with me for a while."
It was the cooking festival week. Every year, the surrounding villages of Paak City would hold such an occasion to uphold its reputed standing as a Culinary City.Here, every corner in every street had stalls and small diners in makeshift tents to serve the visitors and the local's palates experience of the city's unique spicy dishes.