Orie Chef นิยาย & เรื่องราว

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.

Would any restaurant deliver here? "No, I'll cook. There are ingredients in the fridge," Charles explained. In response to Julian's puzzled look, he further explained, "During the day, I arranged for someone to buy some of your favorite foods." Julian went to the kitchen and checked the fridge, and he was right. She felt warm inside; she hadn't specifically told Charles what she liked to eat, yet he had noticed. Perhaps during their meals together, he had been paying special attention to what she liked.

Jeez! He was so good, yet he didn't want to do it. I wondered why. His emotions getting the best of him should in no way affect his job, wasn't it? Maybe I was going to employ someone else to cook for me. I couldn't keep depending on him and waiting for him knowing full well that he showed up whenever he liked. "No problem, lady Monique." She answered. Smiling, I nodded. "We're making sherperd's pie tonight, though. It might take a while, but it will be worth it." She informed me.

I was invisible here, just like an obstacle in their little private world. "So, you're the one from the McAllister mansion?" The sudden booming voice nearly made me jump. I turned to see a familiar looking tall, burly and imposing man. I know this face as it was all over TV when I was in Paris– Chef Beau, the French Michelin star chef who has won the award so many times! Of course, who else deserves to be the head chef in the best hotel in the USA if not the best chef in the world?! And now I’ll get to learn from him, yay!!

Her middle name should have been disappointment for as much of it as she’d experienced in her life so far. They emerged in the kitchen as the dinner rush was just beginning. She looked at Leo for an explanation, but all he gave her was another of his gorgeous smiles. It softened the blow of her disappointment. But all too soon, a chef in a crisp uniform approached them. Beneath his hat was a glimpse of black hair peppered with grey, he was stout, had dark eyes, and a broad nose. “Buona Serta Pedere Dubois. Sono lo chef Lombardi. Ho sensitio che sei interesssato all’apprendimento delle arti culinare.”

I say to Christopher when the room remains silent. "Ah, hello. Oh, Mr D'Amico, Mr Rossi. Good afternoon." The chef says as he walks in, demolishing the tension in the air. "Hi, I'm Elizabeth D'Amico, his wife in three days." "Magnifique." I flinch at the thick French accent. Why would an Italian hire a French chef? Don’t they favour their own cuisine? "I am Étienne Philippe, the second chef; what is it that you want me to make?"

Day< The following day, I wake up and discover Marcus in the manor kitchen, cooking. “Wow. You play the piano and you cook.” “I´ve yet to hire staff for this property, so you´re going to have to endure my culinary skills.” “Don´t tell me, Wolfang Puck taught you how to cook?” “Georges Auguste Escoffier.” “Who´s that? One of the Iron Chefs?” Marcus chuckles. “He´s only revered by the French as roi des cuisiniers et cuisinier des rois.” And he speaks French.

"I apologise, Miss Sophie." Miss Sophie's stern gaze fell upon me and then the pot as she strolled towards me. My heartbeat hastened as my chest rose and fell beneath my shirt. Miss Sophie, the head chef, was a woman with an afro hairstyle and a plump figure. She looked at my skilled evasive moves with some pity. Pulled my hand away from my face slowly as it fell to my side. "Well then, since you say it's just a taste, please tell me what you think," she said.

She only wanted to learn simple dishes, not fancy ones with costly ingredients. "Chef, could you teach me some simple dishes? Preferably ones that James likes to eat and are easy to make." The chef was visibly troubled by her request. He was an internationally renowned chef who had won multiple world championships. He had even cooked for national leaders on numerous occasions. So, having to teach Summer simple dishes seemed quite humiliating and beneath him. While he was hesitant, another shorter chef stepped forth and said, "Madam, Mr. Quigley also likes to eat simple dishes. I recall that he enjoys pork ribs. Why don't you give it a try?"

"Oh." He sighed. "I think I'm going to be late thanks to your Ratatouille boyfriend." "Hey! His name is Keith, he's not a rat and not my boyfriend either!" "Whatever. Just tell that stupid cook that if this happens ever again then he'll have to start looking for a new job." "Keith is not stupid! He's a really talented chef. And you don't own this place so you can't have a say in who works here and who is fired. " I crossed my arms over my chest and regarded him appraisingly.