The Cook From The Canterbury Tales Novels & Stories

"The correct question is 'do we have food?' And the answer is yes. We also have a cook, but she wasn't expecting us for one more day. So we have food, but I have no idea what." I nodded. "I can cook." His pale eyes widened. "You can?" "Yes." For some reason, Patrick came to mind. "I'm not a gourmet chef, but I can make a mean spaghetti and meatballs." "Meatballs? You do realize you're talking to an Italian here." "Well..." I paused, scrunching my nose. "I've always bought my meatballs frozen." His free hand flew to his heart. "The sacrilege!" "How about toasted cheese?"

“Don’t worry about poison. I grew up in the countryside. I’m used to it.” “What?” His eyes widened in disbelief. “That is not a wife’s job.” I stiffened. His words stunned me. “If not… then what is a wife’s duty?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled out his phone and called Sister Cooker. When she arrived, he instructed her to taste the dishes one by one. “There’s no poison, Master,” she confirmed after trying everything. “Good. You may leave.” “Yes, Master.” She left, and I was left frowning, arms crossed.

" You have one last warning!, if you can't even prepare a proper meal then you don't need to remain here, I'm even starting to doubt if you really studied cookery, just make me a bowl of cereal instead, make it with lots of milk and three drops of honey" " B.but little miss, that's different from what is in your nutritional Time- table, if the second master finds out about this, I would lose my job" the cook said with panic. " My uncle isn't here right now or is he? " Zephyr arched her brows The cook shook her head " the second master isn't back yet"

Danny asked and got up immediately on the bed. "Yeah. I guess he is still there, serving the fried squids towards your father. He was the one your father helped that time," Jane stated as Danny opened his mouth widely. Mr. Castaneda is one of the oldest cooks in their kitchen and he tilted his head to one side as he can't believe that he would hear the backstory of one of the cooks from his nanny. "And then? What happened after that?" Danny asked as Jane breathed out again.

As I tried to leave after peeking the sack of potatoes, the cook called me back. “Are they going to cook themselves?" She asked. I stood by the door, staring weakly at her. “,oh my, are you going to kill me?" She gasped for air dramatically. It wasn't up to a week since I got here and I hated the air here already. “I can't cook ma'am" I stated without lifting a muscle from where I stood. This made the cook furious, she tossed a pan at me and kept yelling.

Anjana: Sure Bhabhi! Though, Anjana was good at cooking, but, whenever she goes her in-law's place, her cooking style gets worst. It may be due to the mental pressure of her in-laws or something else, but, it happens most of the time. The same happened that day. The mutton kebab which she was supposed to prepare got worst than she ever expected. And later what happened with Anjana was really unexpected.

Each story she shared came like an echo from another world — a world he had only hovered above while his body remained shackled to the mortal realm. He dipped his spoon back into the bowl, sipping the flavorless broth dutifully. “Even the kitchen staff,” Aabroo continued, her smile growing, “they wept. You should have seen them, the head cook especially. Said she’d fast till you woke, and by the fourth day, she almost fainted herself.” He chuckled under his breath, the sound soft, the expression on his face not entirely present. He nodded, still listening. But in truth, his gaze kept sliding past her shoulder, toward the heavy doors of his chamber.

He gave it to the cook. The cook took a quick glance at Jouri and walked swiftly towards their table. "Well, he looks Jewish." Jouri and the male cook gaped at each other, seemingly exchanging their kind of pain with their stares. How in the world did our peaceful lives end this way?

"It's not a subtle poison. It's very bitter. It burns and numbs your tongue to the point where you wouldn't be able to talk. Once ingested, it will kill you slowly, prolonging the pain. You'll feel yourself die." "Someone's come prepared." I hear a voice behind me. I turn my head sideways and see an old man with long graying hair. He was wearing gloves and a gray apron that covered his brown tunic. I bow subconsciously, Silas was looking at him too. He looked at him with fondness in his eyes. "Number seven, this is Plimoth, Cinco's poison master. He'll be conducting your lesson for this week." "My Lady, it's nice to make your acquaintance. I'm sure Silas is jesting me and your name isn't a n

I mumbled. " But dear wife, I don't have one." He replied. I know this already Bastard. You are pathetic since the second you're born and nothing could change that fact. You're the criminal, the murder, an almost rapist and sick excuse for a human being. You are the story of failed humanity. " Okay then, I'll let you to continue this cooking thing." I whispered and left the kitchen. *** How come a monster like him cook so well? I mean the food is delicious. He had cooked everything damn perfectly. I had just tasted a bite of every meal and now I couldn't help but full my plate with all the food and get ready for diving in heaven.