Chapter 737 The World of Chefs
Within the ma.s.sive kitchen, there were cooking stations of different sizes for different chefs. Chefs who were ma.s.sive in size and had a large team with them were a.s.signed cooking stations that were several dozens or even over 100 square meters. In contrast, chefs like Mag and Kalulu who weren’t very big and didn’t have large teams were only a.s.signed cooking stations that were around 10 square meters.
Mag’s cooking station was in the very corner of the kitchen, and all of his kitchenware had just been laid out onto the cooking bench by the guard that had accompanied him. Mag glanced down at his watch, only to find that it was still quite early, so he wasn’t in a hurry to start cooking.
He didn’t really care about how big his cooking station was. As long as it was large enough, he was content.
Kalulu and his two sons weren’t in a hurry to begin, either. Their cuc.u.mbers had already been pickled, and all they had to do was slice and plate them—a process that wouldn’t take very long at all.
As such, none of them had much to do, so they continued to chat with each other.
All of the smallest cooking stations were located in the northwestern corner of the royal kitchen. When the chefs from other parts of the kitchen glanced toward this corner, all of them wore rather disdainful looks.
The chefs in this kitchen that had small teams were predominantly looked down on as insignificant chefs who were only there to make up the numbers.
Kalulu was very glad to find a brother who could empathize with his pain, so he was also very happy to speak with Mag. Being spoken to as an equal in the royal kitchen was a very refres.h.i.+ng and comfortable feeling for him.
“Brother Mag, have a look at the largest cooking station over there in the north. The chef there is the number one chef in the entire Roth Empire, Bellmann. He’s the number one head chef of the royal palace, and he’s responsible for cooking for His Majesty every day. He’ll also be cooking 70% of all of the dishes on the birthday banquet today, while the other 30% of dishes will be chosen from the other chefs,” Kalulu said with a hint of envy in his eyes.
“Will your pickles be selected?”
“The menu hasn’t been decided yet, but having your dish selected is like winning the lottery; we shouldn’t pin our hopes on it. There are so many chefs here, and any of them will be able brag for the rest of their lives if their dishes were to be chosen by His Majesty.” Kalulu shook his head with a forlorn sigh.
After a brief pause, Kalulu looked up at Mag, and consoled, “But don’t get frustrated or depressed. You’re still young, so the future is yours. Maybe His Majesty will suddenly want to eat a salad during one of his future birthdays and your dish will be chosen. In that case, you’d become the best salad chef on the entire continent.”
I haven’t even learned how to make salad yet… Mag thought to himself rather speechlessly.
The world of chefs was also like an empire of sorts, and Bellmann was the king of the empire, standing on a pedestal that could not be shaken.
In contrast, all of the chefs whose dishes were a.s.sured to have a place on the king’s table were like the royalty of the empire of chefs.
Those who were not yet established stalwarts yet had a good chance of having their dishes chosen by the king were like the promising generals of the empire. Even though there was no royal blood flowing in their veins, they could gain recognition and power for themselves through their splendid skills.
As for people like Kalulu, they were like ordinary footmen. They had a place in the empire of chefs, but it was not a very significant one at all.
It didn’t really matter to them what the state of the empire was like, and they were only mere bystanders spectating the battle for supremacy in the cooking world.
“Brother Mag, I really regret not meeting you sooner. If I had met you earlier, I wouldn’t have been so bored in the royal kitchen during these past few years.” Kalulu patted Mag’s shoulder with an amicable expression.
“Look like the pickle guy finally graduated from the last cooking bench. Who’s that guy that replaced him, though? He appears to be by himself. Could it be that there’s an even simpler dish than sliced pickles?”
“Sure there is! You can serve unsliced pickles! Hahaha!”
Mag and Kalulue were just conversing with each other when a loud burst of derisive laughter erupted from the nearby cooking stations.
An enraged look appeared on Kalulu’s face. “Those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds! They’re also just salad chefs, yet they think they’re better than everyone else!”
“Their salad is nowhere near as delicious as Father’s pickles! They only get a slightly larger cooking station because they have a larger team of chefs!” Lukaka was also quite angry.
“Alright, let’s not stoop to their level.” Kalulu waved a hand before turning to Mag as he said, “Don’t be sad, Brother Mag. You’re still young and full of potential. I’m sure you’ll be able to outstrip them soon! Nandel and Vasir are just a pair of old men who don’t know how to do anything other than bad-mouthing others.”
“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” Mag nodded in response. He was quite touched by Kalulu’s thoughtful words, even though they weren’t really applicable to him.
Nandel and Vasir’s jeers had drawn a lot of attention to Mag. Everyone gathered here in the royal kitchen was a renowned chef, and it was the first time they had ever seen someone cook alone during the king’s birthday banquet.
However, all of them quickly lost interest after realizing that the taunts had been aimed at the chef in the northeastern corner of the kitchen. Even a chef who was serving pickles was positioned ahead of him, so what could he possibly be cooking? He was most likely just trying to show off by bringing along so much kitchenware with him.
In the face of the deriding glances being aimed at him, Mag remained completely unfazed. He didn’t require the acknowledgment of chefs that were inferior to him, anyway.
Kalulu was greatly relieved to see Mag’s tranquil expression. In the past, there had been instances of chefs being crushed by this oppressive pressure, leading them to cooking horrible dishes far below their skill level, thereby ruining their whole careers. He glanced at the time before smiling as he said, “Alright, Brother Mag, we have to start preparing our pickles now. Make sure to keep an eye on the time so you don’t end up missing the deadline.”
“Alright, I’m going to begin as well now.” Mag nodded with a smile.
“Uncle Mag, what kind of salad are you serving? Is it going to be a sweet or a sour one?” Luluka asked with a curious expression.
Mag shooks his head with a smile as he replied, “I don’t make salad.”
“That’s enough, you little rascal! Hurry up and start preparing the pickles; we have to make 200 plates.” Kalulu gently swatted Luluka on the head before getting to work.
Mag took a curious glance at the dishes they were preparing. He was greeted by the sight of the father and son trio expertly slicing pickles lengthwise, and then positioning them onto plates in a clean and organized manner. A golden sauce was drizzled over the pickles with a pinch of coriander on each of the plates acting as a garnish. The salad looked quite refres.h.i.+ng and appetizing, and it would surely be very delicious when eaten with some porridge.
Mag withdrew his gaze before instructing the servant next to him to kill the fire chicken that had been procured in advance. Meanwhile, he picked up one of his knives and began to prepare the secondary ingredients.
Braised chicken took quite a long while to cook, so he had to prepare it first.
“Father, look! Uncle Mag looks likes he’s going to cook chicken!”
Lukaka looked on with wonder in his eyes at the sight of the fire chicken being carried over by a pair of servants.