Cooking Isekai Novels & Stories

He then covered one bowl and ate his bowl of food. Yoshiki first learned to cook when he was around twelve. He always had the habit of sleeping all the time. He would often sleep through dinner and sometimes lunch, and as punishment, his mother forbade anyone from saving food for him. He started eating cup noodles every day and as a result, within months he got sick of it, so he taught himself how to cook, at first it was horrible and the kitchen often stank after he cooked, but he slowly got better at it. Being a petty person, he told no one that he learned to cook so that he could extort money from his brothers and father for 'food'. They were such gullible fools.

One by one she put the minced garlic and onions to the pan then after a while, she already put the crushed tomatoes. Lian was so engrossed in her cooking that she failed to notice that the other four brothers had already arrived and were now standing by to observe her. “Why is she the one cooking,Heizhen?” curiously asked by Zeus “Wife volunteered to cook for us. I can’t stop her” Aizen saw an attractive woman wearing green clothing as soon as he arrived at the kitchen door. She had her sleeves up, exposing her silky, white skin. Although his brothers were speaking a little loudly, she doesn't appear to notice them because she is too busy cooking.

"Are you sure this is what you want? Do you really want to go through with this?" "Yes. Yes, I want to. There's nothing I want more than this, and I will feel fulfilled once this has come to manifestation." "If that's what you want, I'll support you. And after we're done eating, I'll tell you what happened and what I found out in the course of my journey." Isabella's POV I had just poured the last set of ingredients into the pot, I stirred it with my wooden spoon, covered it, then I looked at Aiden. "And that, noble apprentice, is how you make vegetable stew."

The next afternoon, I went back to the apartment to pack my last few things. The moment I opened the door, I was hit by that cloying, sweet scent again. Isabella. The door swung open to the sound of sizzling and spatulas clanking. Someone was cooking in the kitchen. I walked over and saw a familiar figure with her back to me. Isabella, wearing my silk robe, was flipping a steak on the grill. My robe. My kitchen. She heard my footsteps and turned around.

"Can I go to the kitchen? I want to cook something. For my parents." Guards exchanged glances. But agreed. She'd been cooperative. Lately. Days now. No incidents. No screaming. No destruction. She walked to kitchen. Quietly. Humming softly. Melody sweet. Intention rotten. Isabella began cooking. Methodical. Graceful. Precise. Every movement controlled. Every action purposeful. Her father's favorite dish. Childhood memories in food form. Her mother's favorite dessert. Nostalgia in sugar and cream. The knife slipped. Cutting her finger. Deep. Blood welling up. Bright red.

This was all she could think of within the hectic schedule. With Gabina, she recreated the sweets she tasted when she went to the capital, which was new in their village. The male counterpart cooked their own special dishes. Hakoon cooked an Ilish fish. He marinated the fish with turmeric and spices. Afterward, he sauteed the five-spice mix, mustard poppy seed paste, chilies, etc. Then he added the marinated fish and let it simmer in the slow heat. His assistant prepared green lentil sweets made of mung beans.

ISLA During the bonfire, we were all gathered in the open area. Taek-woon is the one who is cooking the samgyetang while Eun-woo helps him grill the pork belly. While waiting for the dishes to be cooked, some of the students decided to play games so that they won't get bored. And since I'm not fond of playing games, I decided to help out with the cooking. I approached Eun-woo and as soon as he saw me, he reached out the tong he was holding with a piece of meat in between.

The kids there deserve to use the washing machine more than him. The two of them silently entered the living room. Bertha groped the wall and turned on the light by memory. The living room is bright, and the house is still the same, but the interior is no longer black and white. Bertha arrived in the kitchen, Derek silently following her. Going to the kitchen, she took a thick book out of the cupboard and gave it to Derek. “This is a cookbook, in the future, you will have to rely on the dishes in the book to cook for me. Each meal must have three different dishes, with no repetitions.

(Third Person’s POV) Inside the grand kitchen, Bright and Isaac are busy cooking a traditional Italian dish that they randomly decided to make to kill some time together. Their laughter filled the silent corners of the Vendetta mansion as they played with each other in the fancy kitchen. Bright was serious about learning how to cook, but Isaac would always make fun of him for being clueless to almost everything in the kitchen. He would prank him about the smallest thing, like adding more salt to his soup when he’s not looking, or hiding the ladle when he knows he needs it.

When Isabelle got home that evening, she found Jacob in the kitchen, cooking dinner. She hadn’t known that he could cook, so she was surprised to find him busy minding the pots as if he knew exactly what he was doing. “I didn’t know you could cook,” she said, making her way to the refrigerator. Opening it, she took out a bottle of water and uncapped it.