Gordon Ramsay Gifs Novels & Stories

“Gordon Ramsay” “I'm honoured to meet his student”. “You should be”. “I hope you live up to his legacy”. “I don't disappoint”. I leaned on the counter while she cooked, occasionally making a joke or stealing a beef. When she finished cooking, we sat down to eat. To be honest the food tasted heavenly. “I met your mother”, I said when we were halfway through the meal. Her expression registered shock and her small, white knuckles looked even whiter as her hands tightened around her cutlery.

You can smell the smell of spicy and numb just by smelling it, and you've hooked up Kristen Oliver's greedy worms who ate porridge and side dishes for half a month. Anna Garcia looked at a table full of dishes, and immediately became alert. 'Mr. Gu, Sister Kristen Healey can't eat such heavy oil.' Elvis Sterling soothed with a smile. 'Don't worry, every one of these is low-calorie and won't gain weight.' Anna Garcia wants to say something else. Kristen Oliver has already sat at the table and started using chopsticks. Grandpa made a video call, Kristen Oliver basked in a table of delicious food and spoiled it for a while.

I wish I could have this weird domestic hallucination a little longer. I flip the toast with a flourish I absolutely did not practice and mutter to myself, “If Gordon Ramsay could see me now…” The toast lands perfectly. The eggs not so much. Fuck. “Okay, okay,” I mutter, scraping at the pan like it personally offended me. “I'm getting good at this.” I slap the food onto a plate, not exactly proud, but not ashamed either. Balanced chaos. Kind of like us. And then I hear it—the soft sound of the door opening.

In the kitchen, the large burly chef was preparing for his next meal of the day, throwing vegetables into a large pot to simmer. It was Grayson who said it best, “Who the fuck is watching us?”

Then he put it in a pan that was already hot. "You've really been practicing," I said. "YouTube is surprisingly educational. There's a guy who explains everything like you're five years old. Very helpful for someone who thought cooking meant heating things up in a microwave." The kitchen started to smell good. Lemon and herbs and fish that was cooking properly. We talked while he finished cooking. Twenty minutes later he plated the food. Salmon with crispy skin. Roasted vegetables that looked good, and I'm sure would taste good too. We took our seats at his small kitchen table and ate.

His lips grazed my neck barely, just enough to send a shiver down my spine. My breath stopped. I had to physically stop myself from whimpering. Jesus, was this a cooking lesson or foreplay? And then, oh my god did I just feel his buldge press against me? Was that his dick growing against my ass? Abort. ABORT. I needed to get out of here before I did something really stupid like turn around and kiss him. Nope. Not going there. I let out the fakest laugh of my life. “Yeah, uh, I totally got this now. Thanks for the lesson, Gordon Ramsay.”

“Gordon Ramsay would be proud.” I pulled out the eggs, cheese, and spinach, deciding an omelet was the best I could manage. I cracked the eggs into a bowl, whisking them, then I chopped the onions quickly and my eyes watered from the onion's sting. This at least giving me a convenient excuse for any tears that might escape. The butter was sizzling in the hot pan soon after and I tossed in the onions, listening to their soft hiss against the heat while I grated the cheese. I poured the egg mixture into the pan and lowered the heat, then turned to grab my phone from my purse.

I'm literally drooling and I have this weird craving. Ramon orders for pasta and steak. This guy eats a lot of meat yet he manages to look like... THAT!!! You'd think he lives, breathes, eats and sleeps in the gym. Our meals are brought. I quickly dig into my dish. I start choking and splash the food in my mouth all over the table. Even on his coat. But strangely, I don't seem to care. I am seething inside. I glare at the waitress. "Are you trying to kill me!" I snap. "Is that it?"

But as he dropped the veggies into the pan, they started to sizzle… then pop, then—fwoosh—a small flame shot up, and Richard nearly jumped back. “Whoa!” he yelped, staring at the flames as if they’d betrayed him. I covered my mouth to hold back a laugh, but I couldn’t hide it for long. “Nice going, Chef Ramsey,” I snickered. “Next time, try not to burn the place down.” He shook his head, grinning sheepishly. “Yeah, yeah. I just wanted to make it… flavorful.” The instructor quickly put out the small flame, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Just a little less oil next time,” she said, and Richard’s cheeks turned a light shade of red.

Jesus, it was making me catch my breath again. It felt good that someone like Xandry helped me making breakfast. I wondered if he used to do this with women he had sex with. He placed the melted butter on the counter and started whisking the eggs like a celebrity chef. I suddenly remembered Jamie Oliver who I used to watch on his YouTube channel. I didn’t pay much attention to his cooking but mostly on how hot he was. “Do you have cheese, bell pepper, tomatoes, ham, spring onion, and cilantro?”