Orie Chef นิยาย & เรื่องราว

But, I know one thing for sure which was me wanting to bring my uncles down. ***** (Author’s POV) . An hour later, dinner was served by a new Chef in town called Chef Marque. He was once a waiter at Sebastian Café. After getting a placement to work at Rose Restaurant, he became famous. Not only for his cooking skills, it was also for his handsome foreign features. Of course, women came to Rose Restaurant and it became a hit in just a couple of weeks. No one knew it was Laura Knight who had recommended him to join Rose Restaurant. She owned it. And she was the one that had taught him how to cook delicious recipes.

Food journalists flew in from Tokyo and New York just to taste my signature dish, a deconstructed coq au vin that had made a renowned food critic weep. For two years, my restaurant had been fully booked six months in advance. I was returning to Missford University as a visiting professor, invited to teach the next generation of chefs. "Are you ready, Cici?" My second brother, Kevin stood beside me, his presence as steady and reassuring as it had been through every nightmare of the past three years. Even in sunglasses and a deliberately understated suit, Kevin Laurent was impossible to miss – Formula One's reigning champion, with the kind of face that launched a thousand sponsorship deals.

Roseline's POV… The list of the top chefs who would be participating in the cookathon was finally out. The big white paper hung on the wall of the kitchen, chefs gathered round checking to see the chosen ones who would be lucky enough to participate in this year's cookathon. I stared at my name, printed in black ink on the board, I was number two on the list. The top person was Fernando Rease. He won chef of the year at face of the kitchen last year, he is also one of the best chefs I know.

Tiny proudly stated. Chef is the best when it comes to cooking top-notch cuisine. He takes his profession seriously. But just like the rest of the members of El Latro, he too has a double life. The chef enjoyed torturing people and squeezing information out of them. He used different techniques to make our captives talk. He loves mutilating people and watching them bleed to death. That's the reason why he is also known as the "butcher." "Nice to finally meet you in person, boss." The chef removes his gloves and extends his hand for a handshake.

Author P.O.V A dark-haired man with a tan complexion and piercing dark eyes exited the towering apartment building, his posture exuding confidence as he slid into the sleek interior of his sports car. This was Owen Brown, a name known to anyone who paid even the slightest attention to the culinary world in South California. He was not just any chef ,he was a celebrity. Over the last six years, he had built a veritable empire, opening a chain of restaurants and cafes, with The Dream being the crown jewel of his achievements. His cooking show drew millions of viewers, and his charm ensured that every public appearance turned into a headline.

Chef beamed when he saw me walk in and made a huge fuss about my outfit. “You’ve moved up in the world, Cheri!” He exclaimed, and I smiled at the dear man. He wasn’t French at all, but Eli’s father sent the man to France for some cooking courses and now Chef imagined himself to be French! I softly explained what happened upstairs and he gasped. “But Cheri! They should have told me you were here for lunch! I would have prepared your favourite meal!” He exclaimed, and I could see Eli trying to look the other way as if it wasn’t his fault.

"Good morning, Mrs. Cagliari. I'm Chef Larry. I work as the head chef in the Cagliari kitchen on weekends. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." He extended his hand, and she returned the handshake briefly before pulling back. "Well, I'm Ashleigh. You can call me that," she responded. "I don't know about that. Will I get fired if I do?" he teased. Ashleigh's eyes widened as she began to refute his claims.

Someone massaged my back. “Goodnight, Mrs. Moretti,” one of them whispered. I woke up the next morning bracketed by brothers. I slipped out for a quiet moment, putting on a yellow sundress. On deck, the chef, Chat Chevalier, was already prepping. He was a lean, tattooed man from France, assisted by Sachin Singh from India. They were both strikingly handsome but talked only of their own mates back home. “Chat?” I asked. “That’s 'Cat' in French, right?”

she said. “Bless you,” Lucien said feelingly. He took a final swig of the café au lait he held in his hand and stood, ready for business. Even though he was relatively new to Chicago, he’d managed to create a network of professional contacts in the restaurant industry. A friend had informed him that a qualified chef had recently been let go from Chez Pierre. Having once sampled Baptiste’s cooking, Lucien had leapt at the chance, despite the warning accompanying the referral. “John Baptiste is an exceptional chef, but he’s very temperamental,” his friend had said. “Is there a chef that exists that isn’t?” Lucien had asked wryly.

But fuck… It was worth it. “Find out The Chef’s base. We are paying him a visit tomorrow.” I barked at Kaito who was still facing the dining room. “Already did. He owns a restaurant in Worthing. Specializes in fish dishes. He became famous after he caught his underboss selling him to his enemies, then chopped him into pieces and cooked him, before serving the said enemies food made out of his flesh. Apparently, that shook the entire underworld.” And I was not even aware of it.