Chef Lovers Novels & Stories

The Michelin-star chefs stood on both sides, all looking at Cordelia in anticipation, hoping to be picked. Cordelia was puzzled. “Grandpa?” “What cuisine would you like to have today?” Liam asked with a grin. Cordelia winced, looking at the chefs of different ethnicities and nationalities. There were chefs from Chaiseland, Feranche, Etalia, Ilbon, Taeguk, Asperia… Liam had basically gotten all the cuisines in the whole world into his house. Cordelia had trouble deciding what to eat. While she mulled over the options, Zephyr had gone through the menu and placed it on the servant’s tray gracefully.

Her middle name should have been disappointment for as much of it as she’d experienced in her life so far. They emerged in the kitchen as the dinner rush was just beginning. She looked at Leo for an explanation, but all he gave her was another of his gorgeous smiles. It softened the blow of her disappointment. But all too soon, a chef in a crisp uniform approached them. Beneath his hat was a glimpse of black hair peppered with grey, he was stout, had dark eyes, and a broad nose. “Buona Serta Pedere Dubois. Sono lo chef Lombardi. Ho sensitio che sei interesssato all’apprendimento delle arti culinare.”

"No. You’ve got to be kidding me." Raphaël gave her a charming nod. "Guilty as charged. But I assure you, no favoritism. Unless she botches her ganache." I shot him a look. "Not a chance, Professor." "Then you’ll do just fine," he said, straightening. "I must say, I’m honored to have a seasoned chef in my class." Then he added with a wink, "Especially one who already knows the hidden gems of Paris." I tried to suppress a laugh. Across the room, Chloé narrowed her eyes at us.

Jo admitted honestly. “Damn, man. I already know who pampers her palate.” Matthew announced, laughing. “Not me, Matt. It's all Claude's fault. He pampers all of us, culinarily.” Patrick confessed. “Yeah… he is the real MasterChef between all of us.” Jo revealed the facts. “I must necessarily take you for his chicken stewed in wine, Chateaubriand tenderloin, and goose livers, known as foie gras.”

An hour had passed. “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Chloe,” the chef said, giving me a small bow of gratitude. I smiled at him. He was one of the best chefs in the country. I’d recognized him instantly from a magazine I once flipped through out of boredom. If he was here, it meant one of the council of witches had spent an enormous amount of money just to have him prepare a few dishes for this ridiculous brunch. The last server picked up the tray, and I followed him, holding my head high.

"This is really good! I've not had a meal like this in forever?" Beatrice smiled, pride shining on her face. "My daughter-in-law and her sisters are the culinary wizards behind this dish. They make the best meal." Ryder's eyes lit up. "Oh, wow! They're all great chefs!" Sophia chuckled, shaking her head. "Well, technically, we're all just good cooks, but I think we make it work, Daphne is the pro chef."

Roseline's POV… The list of the top chefs who would be participating in the cookathon was finally out. The big white paper hung on the wall of the kitchen, chefs gathered round checking to see the chosen ones who would be lucky enough to participate in this year's cookathon. I stared at my name, printed in black ink on the board, I was number two on the list. The top person was Fernando Rease. He won chef of the year at face of the kitchen last year, he is also one of the best chefs I know.

A middle-aged man dressed in a pristine white chef's uniform welcomed them with a warm, theatrical smile. ​"Bonjour, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington! It is an absolute honor to instruct such a perfectly matched pair of newlyweds!" Chef Pierre exclaimed with a thick, melodic French accent. "Today, we shall be preparing a traditional Beef Bourguignon. The absolute secret to this dish is love and physical, intimate cooperation between husband and wife!" ​Liam swallowed hard, casting a fleeting glance toward Chloe. She stood rigidly in the corner beside Albert, her fingers burying into the straps of Elena’s heavy bag, her face crimson with a volcanic rage that was on the absolute verge of detonating.

For a second she was confounded by where his comments came from but then she realised what he meant. The Light. For many years, Beatrice had found her mind slipping into a quasi-daydream in which she would consult with her five favourite celebrity chefs. She called it her Culinary Council, headed by her all-time favourite chef, Jamie Oliver. With Jamie were Raymond Blanc, Gary Rhodes, Mario Batali, and Gordon Ramsay. Their counsel was sought in times of confusion, of despair and, in her mind’s eye, she would have discussions and find resolution, often acting upon the decisions that were made in those few seconds.

He took a firm stand by showing disgust when she served him his own dish, to evoke her, to venture on her own. Gael shifted his position and picked a cooking magazine under the table. "Here, in this magazine are articles of all chefs, specializing in different cooking styles or you can call it cooking fashion based on their plating presentation. Your father's cooking was, in fact, exceptional, but where's yours? You need to have that specialty where people will seek your dishes." His explanation cleared her mind. "Thank you, Sir. Thank you." Asha's face brightened and her eyes were misty. "I'm happy you led me to the right path. Now I understand my father more. Thank you."