The Cook From The Canterbury Tales นิยาย & เรื่องราว

He looked at Barnabas and smiled. "So Barnabas, this is a side stool, It can also be used for the adequate placement of people's fingers. Now, I have a knife, a side stool, and your fingers." He said, getting a hold of Barnabas three fingers. "Imagine what I can achieve with these three." He smiled. "So, I will ask the questions while you answer." Barnabas nodded in acceptance. "Why is the cook not here and who the hell is that lady over there?" He asked, pointing to Faith.

The scent of butter and scorched rice lingered in the air. “I said,” she repeated, “try.” For a moment, neither of them spoke. The flicker of flame cast shadows across her face, catching the hard line of her jaw, the tension in her shoulders. The cook wasn’t a weak man. Perhaps he saw something in her eyes—not just fury, not just defiance. Desperation. Something dangerous. He stepped back. “I… I didn’t want trouble,” he muttered. “I was told not to feed you. I was only doing what I was told.”

Trying harder did not occur to him, coming from a family where achievement was a right, at least until business fell and he ended up here in hopes of reviving it. "Anyway, I will be good enough to say that my offer does stand if you have no other option. And word of warning," he chuckled, one of actual amusement. "Never annoy the cook, trust me, she isn't an enemy you want to have! Not unless you like finding unsavoury tastes in your food. She knows all the bitter and unpleasant herbs and seeds to use if she's upset. Never anything dangerous but the taste lasts..." He wrinkled his nose at the memory. It took over a day to get rid of it.

I decided to stop in the kitchen and let the new cook know about my allergy, just in case that was really the cause. I stepped into the kitchen, making all heads turn toward me. A few servants rolled their eyes and turned away. The one from before, who had seen my nude body through my nightgown, snickered at me from behind her hand. I ignored them all and shuffled over to the cook. “Excuse me,” I said, tapping the cook’s shoulder. “You’re the new head chef here, right?” The cook, a woman in her forties with graying hair pulled back into a tight bun and a white chef’s hat on her head, turned to me as she peeled a potato. She looked me up and down, scenting my lack of a wolf, and curled her li

The menu that the two of them ordered came quickly making Wilma feel quite surprised. "The cook in this restaurant is a mage chef so he can cook quickly." "Oh, I didn't know a mage could become a chef." "That rarely happens. The chef of this restaurant used to be a member of the mage troop in the kingdom before he quit and opened this inn with his family." "Try it, the menu you ordered is very delicious. You will like it." Wilma enjoyed her breakfast which she devoured with gusto. She had not thought she would be able to enjoy good food in this world after leaving her former world. It seemed she couldn't underestimate the culinary skills from this world.

Before Arthur could answer his question, the butler looked at the cook and ordered, "Quickly bring the first aid box from the kitchen" Arthur looked at him and said, "There is no need to worry. I got a little hot oil on my hand. Nothing else happened" Then the butler looked at him and asked, "How did the hot oil fall on your hand? Did you cook?" It is absolutely impossible because you don't know how to cook?" The butler asked Arthur and he answered the question. Arthur then said, "I cooked for the children." Hearing this, the butler was shocked and looked at him. Then the cook brought the first aid box from the kitchen. Butler then opened the box, took out the medicine, and put it in Arthur'

“Omegas don’t need manners. They just need to stay out of the way.” I kept my eyes down, because it was safer that way. “Don’t cut yourself,” someone muttered. “We sure don’t want your blood in the stew.” A burst of laughter echoed around the room, but my hands didn’t stop moving. “I bet she thinks she’s too good to talk,” said Tomas, the butcher’s apprentice. “She thinks she’s better than the rest of us.” “She’s just slow,” the head cook snapped. “No better than a shadow and the Goddess help us if she’s chosen at the ceremony.”

the cook responded. “When the master is ready, he'll brief you on the rules. What a being! He's rude, has pride and demeaning. I'm beginning to doubt if truly he's my Ethan. He might look like my Henry, talk like him but one thing I'm sure is that my Henry is not rude, and not proud. My Henry was the sweetest being ever, he was meek, he would never hurt a fly and he always had my best interest at heart. The cook ended up assisting me to take off my shoes. After I spent so much time struggling with it, I finally realized I needed her help. I just felt she was too old to be running such errands, since she was around my father's age.

His face was flushed with indignation. "There she is." Every eye turned toward Sumi. She instinctively stepped behind me. The movement alone broke my heart. "What is this about?" I asked calmly. The cook folded his arms. "This woman stole food." "No, she didn't." The answer left my lips before anyone else could speak. "I wasn't talking to you." "You don't need to." My gaze remained fixed on him. "She was with me nearly all morning." Another servant scoffed loudly. "Convenient."

"Is there something wrong with the water?" He says. "it seems like someone has put poison inside his food." I felt my anger rising inside me and I shouted at the guard."WHO WAS THE COOKER?" He says. "I think it was our newest cooker. She just arrived not long ago." I say. "Bring her immediately to me!" Ryan motions to one of the guards and he quickly gets the cooker here. I was sitting on the chair waiting for the cooker till I heard a weeping sound echoing near the prison entrance.