Eat/Fight
The curry was bland and for this he cursed his loins. Many family recipes became ever more flavorful with each generation. As the secret herbs, spices and seasonings were passed down from father to son the latter would inevitably add some of his own signature techniques to the mix making the dish even greater than it had been in past years. But Chef Biekle had no sons. This had been the cause of much contention between him and his wife for many years. When the panicked thought that perhaps he, a great chef, might not have any heirs to pass his techniques down to became too much he had turned on his wife, accusing her of infertility. At least, he figured, he might get a concubine or too out of it. Someone who could bear him a male heir. But a trip to the doctor made it quite clear that the fault was not with her.
And that's when he met young Fernando.
Orphaned and mute the boy represented an opportunity to the chef. He and his wife adopted Fernando and immediately the chef began testing the boy's merits in the kitchen. But the boy needed no testing. He was a natural. No, more than that. He was a genius. Chef Biekle had once seen him make a pot of macaroni, stuffing each noodle individually with an assortment of vegetables and other types of pasta. Unparalleled. That's what Fernando is. And yet despite this the rival restaurant across the street was still stealing business from them on a regular basis. They had to be doing something underhanded. There was only the one old man that worked there. Well, him and his two waitresses but surely women were not the key to any sort of success when it came to the business of food.
That's why the challenge was made. A cook off of the highest degree in front of hundreds of hungry people, closely inspecting their techniques. Whatever the restaurant was doing across the street would certainly come to light in the midst of this battle. And once the people saw that without underhanded tricks Fernando's dishes were surely superior they would abandon the old man and give their business to Biekle.
Quiet as ever, Fernando strolled in to the room. He was almost twice as tall as the chef, and thin. His curly dark hair fell down to his tan shoulders and around his waist he wore a work belt in which he could tuck various bottles of herbs and sauces. Of course you couldn't let the crowd see what you put into your secret seasoning so that had to be prepared before hand. Two large jars swing loosely from a gold chain attached to his hip. Looking over at his father, Fernando gestured with his hands.
"A sewing needle?" The chef asked. "What do you need that for?" But even as he asked it, he knew how Fernando would respond.
A shrug and sly smile came from his adopted son.
"A new recipe." The chef couldn't help but smile, his mind racing with the possibility of a brand new technique from his son. "Fantastic."
Reina's feet still hurt after all this time. She and her sister has walked across rocky, dusty, desert filled lands for weeks before finally finding their master. Not that they hadn't happened on other so-called masters before then but they had all refused to teach them or even give them lodging and so their walk continued. They were sunburned and dehydrated when they happened upon Master Choo. Seeing that they had no strength in their bodies, collapsed only feet from his restaurant, he had dragged them into the store room and given them some soup. But even in that state Reina found the strength to say that the soup could be better. With that he had taken away their sustenance and told them they could still eat whatever they wanted, granted that they prepared it themselves.
That was the day he decided to be their master.
Teresa took a seat beside her sister on the small bench and laid the pan she had been carrying down on the ground. Her sister Reina lowered her feet into the water filled pan, sighing with relief as the tingling sensation took her aches away.
"Even your homemade bath salts are amazing, sis. We've got this competition for sure."
"Ha!" replied Teresa, "I saw what you were doing in the kitchen yesterday. Don't even act like it will be my skill that will win this. What ever secret you have been concocting will definitely be the thing to clench this victory."
"Don't be fools,"said a gruff voice from the doorway. They recognized it as that of their master before he even stepped into the room, stroking his long white beard and smiling at them with his uneven smile. "I hear the boy next door is not to be trifled with. The mundane menu of our enemy is the fault of his father but Chef Biekle hasn't been the true chef of Biekle's eatery for years now. I don't like to throw the term "pastamancer" around but the boy's techniques may be a thing of legend."
"Bah." came Reina's reply. "Pastamancers are just artsy punks trying to wow people with their fancy bowtie noodles. The techniques you taught us are already a thing of legend. We need not be afraid."
Master Choo's smile became a laugh as he turned to the other sister. "Is this what you believe as well, Teresa?"
Teresa shook her head. "No. " she replied. "because you taught us to make the techniques you gave us even stronger before. Your skill is great, my master, but today I will surpass you."
"Good." came their master's happy response. "Then gather your things. The cooking stations are setup outside. It is almost time to begin."
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