Gordon Ramsay Gifs Novels & Stories

Fuck me, right? My last guy, Ian, was a damn good cook; he made a scallop and potato dish that would knock Gordon Ramsay’s socks off, and he never complained about me calling him down to the workshop for a 2AM snack. And why would he? I paid him well for his time. But I guess that just wasn’t enough for him. I caught him going through my watch collection, stuffing his pockets with Rolexes and Audemars.

He whisks them firm. His towel hangs low on his hips, dangerously close to falling, and yet he moves without a care. As if he purposely wants to make his towel fall. He keeps the whisk aside, washed it immediately and turns the pan with just the right flick. The eggs sizzle as he prepares some sandwiches. Who the hell was this man? A lewd, smirking pervert who whispers filth in my ear, and now he’s acting Gordon Ramsay with abs and no shame.

I’m used to ignoring my hunger pains for the sake of art. When I’m finally satisfied with my work for the evening, I curl up on the couch with a cup of mint tea and scroll through the messages from the guys. Tomas sent a photo of his dinner, some kind of farm-to-table masterpiece with edible flowers that Scott made fun of. Damien replied with a GIF of Gordon Ramsay looking impressed, and Rafe sent a thumbs-up emoji. He’s probably right in the middle of practice. They’re all so ridiculous, and I love them. For a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like if they were all here with me. We could walk the streets together, get wine-drunk in the Latin Quarter, kiss in front of the Eiffel

So, without even wanting it, I turned to Gordon Ramsay, ready to attend to her wish so as to live. Exactly thirty minutes later, I had no word to explain the situation of the kitchen. It was a total mess, beyond my control. I didn't care anymore that there were flours all over my body, even on my eyebrow. The shocking thing is that the oven mitt melted tragically, but what encouraged me was the amazing smell from the disaster that I just prepared. When I was done, I held the tray proudly like I had just discovered gold mine, and ready to share with anyone available. I walked in with my shoulders high, ready to unveil the masterpiece I had made.

He raised his eyebrows expectantly as if daring me to spill my thoughts. I crossed my arms, trying to look indifferent. “Just wondering how you managed to pack all this without burning the sandwiches.” He gasped, clutching his chest as if I’d wounded him. “You wound me, Tiara. Just because I don’t look like a chef doesn’t mean I can’t make a sandwich.” “Prove it,” I shot back, lifting my chin. “Let’s see if you’ve got anything good in that basket, Mr. Gordon Ramsay.”

"You're distracting me from my craft. Would you do this to Gordon Ramsay while he's preparing a meal?" "There are many things I'd do to you that I wouldn't do to Gordon Ramsay. Things I can't say in front of a kid," I mumble under my breath. From the way his breath staggers for a second, I know he heard me loud and clear. I smile to myself. I finish chopping tomatos just as Arnou pours something into the water. He turns his body in a way that keeps me from seeing what he's pouring into the pot. I slide the chopping board of chopped tomato toward him, then kiss his shoulder.

The Jiffy Lube breakroom? He smirked, leaning back with his own mug. "YouTube. I watch a lot of Gordon Ramsay when the shop is dead." "Liar," I said, stealing a piece of his bacon. "But I'll eat it." I took another bite. "Aren't you going to ask how it tastes?" He paused for a second. "I know it tastes good." "That confident?" I challenged. "Yeah. After all, look who cooked it," he teased. "And who is that?" I asked back.

Xavier chuckles and holds his hand up in surrender. “I'll leave you two to it then,” Ramsey said and leaves, with the server following behind him once more. I'm left alone with Xavier once again who's watching me intently. “Who was that man?” I ask. “That's Ramsey Gordon, CEO of Taste. He's also the head chef.” “Oh…” I have more questions but I don't get to ask them because Xavier stands and comes around the table, grabbing my plate from the table. “Now this,” Xavier says, gesturing to the first dish, “is truffle butter filet mignon.”

I asked noticing how the twenty heads before me rose like a spring and looked at me with fear. Yep, I tended to have that effect when I taught my classes, for a reason my cooking school was one of the most respected in the state. The Gordon Ramsay of the culinary school. “Come on, guys, it's not a difficult subject. Every day we employ at least one method at home... James?” I fixed my gaze on the youngest student which was teased the most for being so shy. "Do you have something to say?" "No, chef.” the boy muttered, lowering his eyes and causing the others to laugh softly.

He picks up the bottle and flips it over which falls back unto the table. Melanie laugh as she watch the disappointed frown on his face. ‘Hold on, did he have a question to ask me’? She thought as she move closer to try her luck. Mr Gordon couldn't move his gaze off of them, he clamps his teeth together as he watches them having fun without him. The knife in his hand dance maliciously on the chopping board, he keeps on chopping the vegetables without looking at it Suddenly he let out an agonising cry as blood shoot out of his left thumb.