“All right, is that it for today’s prep work?” asked Balka Stainwoods, head chef of the brand-new Atriesta branch of White Silver Pavilion. He was a large man in his early fifties who kept his head shaved and wore chef’s white over a hulking, muscular body that seemed much more suited to adventuring.
This new branch of one of Emelia’s top five high-class restaurants had a big, beautiful kitchen outfitted with cutting-edge cooking implements and was designed with the flow of the line down to the smallest considerations in mind. The current time was the lull in the afternoon after lunch but slightly before dinner. Thanks to the frenzied yet efficient efforts of all the kitchen staff, everything needed for that night’s bookings—with a buffer for unexpected occurences—was ready with time to spare.
“Yes, chef! All ready, chef! Everyone, sound off!” shouted the sous chef, Finn Volkan, prompting the other chefs to give detailed reports on their assigned stations.
“All ingredients are ready!”
“Plates, glasses, and silverware are all polished!”
“Wine, sparkling wine, brandy, whisky, ale, clear sake, juices, carbonated water, and icebox all checked and accounted for. The labels we ordered—the Blanc de Noirs and Demi Sec of Naiman de Brignac and the Angelus Domini—have also arrived and are being chilled.”
Finn was a handsome man with blond hair and blue eyes who, despite still being in his late twenties, had climbed to the position of sous chef in the main restaurant back in Magnamelia. He, too, looked little like a chef, though his appearance went in a different direction and painted him more as a patissier. That, or the number one host of a club in the pleasure district.
“All good.” Satisfied that there were no issues, Finn asked for the umpteenth time, “Are you absolutely sure about leaving the main venue, chef?”
Balka and Finn had been head chef and sous chef in the main restaurant. Finn was only willing to be sous chef to Balka, and Balka had asked for Finn by name upon coming to Atriesta. It was Finn who had then selected all the other chefs present.
“You donkey, this ain’t time to put on airs. What would I do staying back there, send instructions from miles away? Monster ingredients I—we—have only heard stories of are flooding into Atriesta and Atriesta alone. I don’t give a crap about my status. I’m just as excited as all of you to explore the possibilities here!”
There had been any number of people who had wanted the positions of head chef and sous chef at the main restaurant. Therefore, these two had stepped aside to dedicate themselves to setting up this branch. As Balka put it so eloquently, Atriesta was now a place where all sorts of new ingredients could be found, all delivered fresh as could be. And nothing in life was more important than developing new dishes that no one had ever tasted before.
“Granted, you do look like you’re having the time of your life every day.”
That answer, which Finn had also heard for the umpteenth time, evoked a wry smile and a shrug from him, but he seemed happy too. The same went for the rest of the staff, despite how demanding their work was.
The White Silver Group had many branches throughout Emelia, all catering primarily to aristocrats and wealthy merchants. This went without saying, but working in the kitchen at the main venue in Magnamelia was an extreme honor for all chefs. And yet, everyone here had discarded that privileged position without a second thought to use their skills and wealth of experience to create never-before-eaten dishes that would blow people’s minds. In short, they were all cooking fanatics.
That said, since they were using the White Silver Pavilion name, there was a standard of service that they absolutely had to maintain. They were real chefs, not mere hobbyists. Therefore, they did their prep work with all the care it was due but fast enough to squeeze out an hour each day for experimentation. When choosing this roster, Finn had made sure that applicants both shared his and Balka’s passion and had the skills to keep up. The time from now to when the location opened for dinner was a precious window they had carved out with their own efforts. Every last person present was hopping with anticipation.
“You bet!” Balka grinned broadly. “And the owner can’t complain. It’s Atriesta that’s now the center of the world and the forefront of everything, not Magnamelia.”
His thoughts turned to the partner he had started the very first White Silver Pavilion with in Garlaige all those years ago. There was no doubt in his mind that his partner shared his sentiment—otherwise, the budget for this venture wouldn’t have been approved. Sol’s group was selling monster materials at a massive discount, but considering what they were, that did not mean they were cheap. The positions of head chef and sous chef commanded handsome salaries, but they would only be able to keep going for a few days if they were to pay out of pocket. That meant, of course, that all the experimenting wasn’t just for its own sake. It had to be conducted with the goal of creating something incredible that rich customers would be willing to pay through the nose for and that could be added to the regular menu.
The quickest way to generate conversation about such a new item and make everyone wish to order it was to win over someone famous with it. In Magnamelia, standard practice was to invite high-ranking nobles famous for being gourmets and have them taste the new dish and spread word of it through their social circles. At least, that was what those with pull did. And Balka and Finn, who had both been nominated to become palace chefs before, had that pull.
A chef said absentmindedly, “Imagine how things would blow up if Sol Rock became a regular with us.”
“I do hear he’s hitting up different places every night,” said someone else.
In this city, there was no method of advertisement more effective than winning over Sol Rock. It was true that he was making it a habit to eat dinner at newly opened restaurants in Atriesta. Naturally, he was always accompanied by royalty—Frederica—and the three beings from legend who served him. They generally praised everything they ate as delicious, but the food service industry wasn’t so easy that this alone was enough to merit attention. No, it was only if he went back to visit again repeatedly that the establishment would gain the prestige of being a place he was partial to.
“I wonder if there’s a way to know which day he’ll be visiting us,” Finn joked, knowing full well there wasn’t.
Sol’s group chose where they were eating purely by mood. If they found a place full, they would simply say We’ll come another day and leave. They never brandished their authority, either outright or indirectly, by sticking around and waiting for a restaurant to “know what to do.”
Another thing they never did was book ahead of time. Before knowing how much they could trust a restaurant, booking carried the risk of having word get out, and the consequences could be significant. It was actually more considerate for Sol’s group not to book. In fact, if not for the fever of the new city going up, it could even be said that it was a duty for someone in his position to eat back in his palace. But with the situation being what it was, first-rate restaurants always made sure they had a private room reserved and enough extra ingredients prepared just in case.
“You donkey!” Balka yelled. “There’s no meaning in prettying things up for a single person on a single day! It doesn’t matter if it’s Lord Sol or a new walk-in. We’ll still provide the best service we can. That’s what it means to be a high-class restaurant!”
He wasn’t actually angry, as this was part of the exchange that they repeatedly went over. The two of them were purposely saying all this out loud to remind themselves not to get haughty or put themselves on a pedestal.
This was a trap that both sides could easily fall into. “I’m doing you the favor of feeding you!” and “I’m doing you the favor of eating your food!” were two sides of the same coin. There was a modicum of truth in either statement, but when unchecked, such attitudes would make any dish taste like ash, no matter how well-prepared it was. Similarly imbued with a modicum of truth were the approaches of “I have been granted the honor of eating here” and “I have been granted the honor of cooking for you.” A change in perspective could go a long way toward making a meal more enjoyable. And Balka believed this applied to the whole dining experience of food, drink, and service.
“Sorry, chef!” Finn said cheerily, and lighthearted laughter filled the kitchen, as everything so far had been part of the running gag.
After that, though, Balka got serious. “It would be a huge help knowing Lord Sol’s preferences, but he doesn’t know them himself, and it’s not like I’ve gotten familiar enough with any of the new ingredients to call it my forte.”
Given that the whole point was to create new dishes using new ingredients, there was obviously no point in talking about preferences yet. That said, intel regarding Sol’s tastes so far would be an enormous advantage. Frederica naturally had a firm grip on Sol’s private information, including his food preferences, but that was now. It still was possible for, say, the old main venue back in Garlaige to find out what he used to like.
Finn chuckled. “We just have to do this like our lives depend on it.” Being a good assistant, he had already put in that very request. The information was supposed to arrive tomorrow, after which they could only pray that Sol’s visit wouldn’t be for another week.
“Exactly. We’ll apply all our experience and skills to create the very best dish we can. Basically, we’ll do what we’ve been doing all along.”
“All right, let’s give it our all!”
“Let’s do this!”
It was Balka who had snapped Finn out of it when he had gotten conceited about his cooking, teaching him what cooking and what eating were truly about. So now he wanted to help make his savior and teacher the world’s best chef and was willing to go to any lengths to do so.
There was no knowing at present what would become of this dream that Finn secretly nursed within his chest, but it wouldn’t be long before White Silver Pavilion moved its main base to the Country in the Sky and become remembered as the restaurant with the longest history in the world.