Story Chef Novels & Stories

She cannot see the rest of his hair that is covered by the bandanna. He has strong features and he moves with great confidence. He is not only a beautiful face. He has nice strong shoulders and his Chef’s jacket sits perfectly on him. He looks comfortable in his own skin. He takes out a flat sheet pan with a thinly baked biscuit on it. He slices the biscuit into a perfect square. He then takes out another element and slices it into the exact same size as the biscuit square. He does this a few times with different elements of his dish. He stacks these perfect squares on top of each other into a beautiful little colourful cube. He sweeps the cube up with one swift movement using the tip of a v

“I thought it would be safer for everyone's stomachs.” Josh's jaw dropped. He brought a Michelin-starred chef to my house?!

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.

When I opened the door, the last person I expected was standing there — Chef Marcellus. The Chef Marcellus. Michelin-starred legend. Known for his ruthless kitchen, poetic sauces, and uncanny ability to rebuild empires from ashes. He had mentored giants in the culinary world. Once, briefly, I’d been a student in his kitchen during my early mentorship. He was harsh and critical and demand perfection when it comes to cooking. he don’t seem like he came to offer sympathy, But more like, He looked at me like I was worth something or someone who deserve a second chance.

Instead, I found silence. The kitchen was blindingly white. Stainless steel surfaces gleamed under harsh, clinical strip lights. There was no stove, no pantry, and no sous-chefs. In the center of the room, standing over a long, rectangular table that looked more like an operating theatre than a prep station, was the Chef. He was a tall, gaunt man in a lab coat so white it hurt to look at. He wasn't cooking; he was meticulous, working with a scalpel and a set of forceps, peeling back layers of something that looked disturbingly anatomical.

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.”

The chef felt sudden pressure. “Mr. Sterling… how can I assist you?” “How do you deal with this?” Tiesto held up a crab. The chef steadied himself. “You start by brushing it like this…” He grabbed a crab on his end and demonstrated live. Tiesto brushed the crab with a blank expression. This task was far more difficult than reviewing financial statements. The chef went on to prepare other ingredients, practically offering one-to-one instruction, deliberately slowing down each frying, steaming, and stir-frying step.

I said with a smile as she led me to the kitchen and did exactly as Ella had said. “My name is Sophie, please don't call me Ma'am, I am here if you need anything, the head chef will tell you what you should cook so just wait a while,” she whispered to me after introducing me to all the other chefs, they looked nice enough but my fear was that I was yet to meet the head chef, I had no idea who he or she was and what their temperament would be like.

' Eliana concluded on her thoughts. "I am chef Alejandro Sainz, the head chef of this school. I have been doing this since I came to this wonderful country when I was just a teenager. From one restaurant to another, until I became what I am today." "I will be your chef for the week. You are going to meet other chefs throughout your lessons. With that, you will learn different techniques. From that, you can gradually choose the one that fits you best and master it." Chef Alejandro continued in his very catchy accent.