Orie Chef 소설 & 이야기

"Chef Geneva won Master chef season 1023." He nodded and pulled up his invisible collar as we both laughed. He took a seat just beside me and said with a confident tone, "Now, taste it and praise me while you are at it." I scoffed and tasted the soup. Damn it was amazing. I looked at him with a pair of surprised eyes as he raised his chin in the air. He just knew he made it real good. "How do you even know to cook!" I said not hiding my shocked tone. "Well, you can say I am a man with every talent." He bragged and I giggled again while shaking my head.

she responded as they laughed together. "Hold on... Who could this? It's so yummy!" "Guess!" "Could be one of your chefs. Can I see her or him? She asked. "It's definitely my greatest chef and he's off to work." Stella Harris responded as she winked at her manager. Opening her mouth wide in shock, Kira Lopez found it hard to believe. "Master Chris can cook?" she asked, shocked. "He does the most cooking." Stella Harris confirmed. "Oh my gosh! These are beautiful!" Kira Lopez praised as she took out a spoon and started munching on them alongside Stella Harris.

Just then there were foot steps heard rushing towards them, the head chef and a few members from his team along with the manager and the captain all rushed towards the table “Sir, did something happen, did you dislike some dish, I’m truly sorry if you did, please tell me what you’d prefer and I’ll prepare it at once.” the Michelin chef was upset that his dish may have caused an issue, he was truly apologetic but he did not forget to give Mahira the trouble maker a dirty look, he thought she wanted to seek attention and suck up to her boss like any woman would want to, but he was annoyed that she’d use meal prepared by him for her purpose.

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?”

The place is chaos: steam rising from pans, knives chopping at lightning speed, and a tall, broad-shouldered chef barking orders that sound like gunshots in French. I know his type, old-school chefs that think abuse and overworking people is how to get the best out of them. But he doesn’t intimidate me. I know what I need to do. “Excuse me!” I call out, and the noise screeches to a halt. The chef spins around, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “What the hell you in my kitchen for?” he barks, his accent thick, but his English clear and cutting. I swallow but hold my ground. “I had your vegetable soup. It was amazing, but I thought a bit more acidity and fresh thyme could really elevate it.”

A vase of vibrant wildflowers embellishes the center. Just as I’m about to wake my Maddox and Braxton, the kitchen door swings open with a flourish, and in walks a man I’ve met before - a renowned chef, Jacques Dubois. Dressed in his signature white chef's coat, his presence commands attention. His salt-and-pepper hair frames a face etched with years of culinary wisdom, and his sharp eyes survey the kitchen with a discerning gaze.

Not my cup of tea. I walk towards the door again. Just as I am about holding the door knob, the door swings open, almost causing me to trip. “Oh dear, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you coming.” Chef Chris apologize politely. He is a fair skinned, average height man. His hair is cut very low at the sides and carved neatly and his face has no trace of hair on it. His wearing a black polo with Greg institute written at the back and left breast of the shirt on a pair of black trouser. He smiled warmly at me, but it didn't do justice to the frustration hidden in his eyes.

Perhaps during their meals together, he had been paying special attention to what she liked. However, knowing how to eat didn't mean knowing how to cook, so she asked Charles, "Can you cook?" "Yes, what do you want to eat? Should we use all the ingredients in the fridge?" He asked, taking the ingredients out one by one. "Oh, no need for that much. There are only two of us, and we can't eat too much," Julian said. After selecting some of the ingredients, Charles busied himself in the kitchen. As Julian watched Charles rolling up his sleeves, chopping vegetables, and cooking, she was a bit taken aback. He seemed very skilled in the kitchen, as if he cooked regularly.

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.

Others still looked skeptical. "I know some of you are wondering if I'm qualified for this position," I said bluntly. "If I'm just here because my last name is Ashford. So let me be clear. I spent seven years giving up my career for a marriage that was destroying me. I clawed my way back to this industry. I earned a feature in Culinary Masters at twenty-four. I trained under Chef Henri Morrison, one of the greatest chefs of our generation. And I just successfully executed a ten-course gala for three hundred guests that received standing ovations." I looked at each of them in turn.