Kitchen Wizard Block Tales Novels & Stories

They lived far from humans, and their houses were dark and chilling, ceiling lined with cobwebs, and there was usually a big cooking pot where they cooked their spells. Well, I knew of a witch who still lived and looked that way, but Nurse Kerri’s house was a lot warmer, and it smelled of jasmine and lavender. She guided us towards the kitchen. It smelled of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and orange juice. “Have a seat,” she motioned at the barstools around the kitchen island. “You’re just in time for these sweet goodies,” she shoved her hands into mittens and opened the oven, drawing out a tray of still-steaming cookies.

Nothing I could do to bring them back, and I had to live with that knowledge for the rest of my life; knowing that I was too weak to do anything to stop it. We reached the kitchen in under five minutes, all the halls looking the same, portraits of old warlocks littering the dusty stone walls and a crimson coloured carpet nailed to the wooden flooring. The kitchen was old, much older than me, the hobs on the cooker slightly rusted and aged; the walk-in fridge had seen better days, and so had the oak counter tops.

Unheard of! + He savored the rest, leaving only a lonely green stem. The wizard watched him with a certain expectancy, like a chef waiting for a critique of the meal he'd prepared. Once Kendrick swallowed that, he licked his lips and held the empty stem near the wizard, "How have you done this?" "It's the potion I told you about." "How does it work?"

The kitchen was always the busiest part of the castle, the air buzzed with clattering pans and frantic chatter as the maidservants darted back and forth, preparing meals for every member of the king’s household. Elira snuck into the kitchen and curled herself on a low bench at the far end, leaning her back against a wall and pulling her knees to her chest. In her hands, she held one of Instructor Vael’s spell books, burying her nose into the words, as the whirr of the manual grinder drained out distractions.

Wolf senses were so cool but at times annoying. I stood up, gently peeping, Seeiñg the family discussing, I gently tiptoed to an opendoor when I reached the ground floor. Behold, it was the kitchen. The utensils and cutleries were well arranged like in a high clas restaurant style. Each row in the kitchen had up to 20 work table with sinks apportioned to each. I saw on each table Western, Spanish, Indian, Nigerian,French and other intercontinental dishes, Or course, about 10 tables was where, flesh and other stuffs for the werewolves were prepared.

Shh. They pointed through the doorway. Stepped aside. Arabella looked inside. Disaster. The kitchen island was destroyed. Dough stuck to every surface. Plates piled in the sink. Flour coating the counters, the floor, the cabinets. On the floor, Adrian and Axel sat slumped against the island. Defeated. Axel held up a tablet. Cooking tutorial playing. Adrian attempted to knead dough. Winced with each awkward fold. Flour exploded into the air. Coating his hands. His arms. His face.

She looked up at him. "Get a pen and paper and write down ten reasons why your friend thinks I am a pervert," he ordered. Sarah's mouth parted in horror. She thought he was never going to bring up the phone call. "This Beef Wellington is delicious, Mrs Sarah; where did you learn to make it?" Aron tried to help her out. Sarah turned, taking a breather as she coughed. "Hell's Kitchen, a cooking show," she replied. Ezra's icy eyes glared at Aron and then at Sarah

I did not want to go back to the kitchens to work, but I had no choice. I squared my shoulders and with determination fueling my every step, I left my room to return to the kitchens to resume my work. The familiar scent of herbs and simmering stews enveloped me as I entered the bustling space. Cooks moved about with precision, and the clattering of pots and pans filled the air. It was a place of routine, a sanctuary of normalcy amidst the extraordinary. As I busied myself chopping vegetables, the connection with my wolf lingered in the background, a reassuring presence that whispered promises of untapped potential. The mundane tasks of the kitchen became a backdrop to the profound revelation

Chef always warned us not to touch any food in the kitchen. He like most of the clan, was a werewolf and he could always scent whenever we came too close to the food. I walked up to Narira and pulled her arm back, mama would have our skin for this, but she shrugged my arm off and continued to quickly pack whatever food she could fit in the bag. Once she was satisfied with the weight of the bag, she came up to me holding some fabrics from the laundry basket in the kitchen. Had she gone mad? Anna had just done that set of laundry!

she sneered at herself, extremely skeptical. " It's not that hard. “ he laughed “ When Sawyer gets better, I promise I'll teach it to you and it will be delicious. “ If you do it alone, I'm sure you'll stay, yes. “ she scoffed, looking down at his hands “You're the only one of us who has fairy hands. And no false modesty. You know you have a gift when it comes to cooking.