Cocinera Novels & Stories

“Prepare the pots and utensils?” “We don't do that too!” She snapped the third time, but this time with anger. “Just what exactly do you know how to do? Preparing ingredients! That's what we do! Washing, cutting, squeezing, slicing, dicing, mincing and mixing of ingredients! That's basically what we do here! The rest of the cooking is being taken care of by the other chefs in other sections! Do you really not know how to do anything related to that?” “I told you what I can do.”

she said with pleasant surprise. “You should be impressed. We just had it remodeled last year,” Jesse said with a smirk. The kitchen was equipped with stainless steel double ovens, a six-burner stove top, the stainless steel refrigerator was huge and had two double doors side by side, and the cabinets were the darkest navy-blue Ava had ever seen. There were two chest freezers across the room. The counter tops were ivory. There was a large stainless steel table in the middle of the room. It was obviously meant to use as a prep area.

5 miles of green to the north with Manhattan stretching out to the south I went to the kitchen and found Natasha preparing my breakfast. The kitchen comes with marble counter tops, 2 sinks, 2 ovens, 2 dishwashers, a sub-zero fridge, and meal appliances including a special wok burner on the stove and crystal fleece silverware. Natasha is my housekeeper, although she looks more like a supermodel who found her domain in the kitchen. She taught me how to cook but her meals are still the best.

Her shocked expression soon dissolved into a warm smile and she made a sign to thank me with her hands. I dropped the plate on the nearby counter and turned to the head chef. The kitchen was massive, the size of three royal quarters, divided into different sections: five workstations where ingredients were prepared, four cooking stations, a mega bakery, the serving section and a rest area. There were also two doors attached to the eastern and southern part of the walls, leading to the pantry and fresh food storage respectively. Another part cordoned off by a dwarf wall was the section where plates were washed and stored. This looked truly massive and surreal. Cooking here was a pleasure beca

Copper pots and pans hung from an overhead rack, their surfaces polished to a gleaming shine, reflecting the bustling activity below. Against one wall, a double oven emitted a comforting heat, its doors occasionally opening to reveal trays of perfectly browned bread and bubbling casseroles. The stovetop, a sprawling six-burner masterpiece, was a flurry of action. Flames danced beneath skillets, where onions and peppers sizzled, their aroma mingling with the rich scent of a simmering sauce. A large, farmhouse-style sink stood beneath the window, where bunches of freshly washed greens waited to be chopped. Nearby, a collection of cutting boards bore the marks of countless meals prepared with l

Dorin was about to ask about the stick again when Johan suddenly looked up and stomps it to the ground. "Is that cigarette smoke I smell?" It was the cook, Mrs. Cooper, waddling into view. She is a very plump woman with rosy cheeks and very curly hair that she tries to tame with a yellow bandana. Her apron looks immaculate, as well as her kitchen, and anyone who tries to mess it up would feel her wrath. All 600 pounds of it. "Johan. How many times do I have to tell you not to smoke near my kitchen?!"

she said before approaching the stove to start cooking. Ate Elen is our cook here in the canteen, while I am the one in charge of washing dishes. Actually, there are four of us working here: Ate Elen as the cook, me as the dishwasher, and Mark and Jason as the servers. Meanwhile, Madam is in charge of the cash register.

I went to the kitchen to prepare a nice cup of hot tea to calm my nerves. Good, there's no one here. I didn’t find anyone on my way to the kitchen and I wouldn't want to wake up the household for something so trivial like a drink. I found the switch and seconds later the room illuminates and reveals a modern state-of-the-art kitchen. “Good God, what do they host here? MasterChef? I withheld my breath at the sight before me. There is a modular multi-unit range with a combination of gas burners, a griddle, a wok burner and a fryer or steamer. Overhead there's a full-length hood to provide maximum ventilation coverage, plus a rail for gadgets and utensils.

Walker guides me to the left, around a massive twisted wood end post that stands at least eight feet tall. We continue arm in arm down a narrow hallway located behind the staircase through a swing door. I’m led into one of the largest kitchen spaces I have ever stepped foot in. The walls are lined with open shelves containing an array of copper and cast iron pots, stoneware, and various cooking utensils and tools. In the middle of the space is an enormous and long solid wood prepping island or workstation. A fireplace big enough for me to walk into with a roaring fire burning is directly across from me, fitted with various iron swing arms and hooks for holding pots and kettles.

It was literally a foodie's heaven. My eyes were still glued to the food as I entered the kitchen which was bigger than my whole apartment combined. I ran my eyes over the kitchen carefully. There was a big sub zero refrigerator, two Bosch dishwashers, and a Scotsman ice maker. There was a six burner Russell range that had a barbeque that vented outside. Also there were warming drawers and in built cappuccino makers. The whole kitchen was not the typical all white, instead it was done up a warm chocolate brown with a Carrara marble countertop. There was a middle aged man bald man in the kitchen who was staring at us intently. I shifted my weight from my left leg to my right as he stared at m