Chapter 15
Marie took the first plate out.
This plate was different from before.
It wasn't a delicate beginning like the single piece of fruit we'd served the marchioness.
If the first plate back then had been a cautious knock on the other person's tastes, this one was closer to kicking the door in before knocking.
I spread rich butter over thinly toasted bread, placed black sturgeon roe on top, then added a tiny amount of red spice steeped in honey.
Salty, sweet, fatty, and intensely aromatic.
It ended in a single bite, but he had to feel the price immediately within that bite.
For someone like the duke, when you thought about it, a flavor that was good the instant you tasted it came before one that grew on you with contemplation.
I didn't make him understand it on his palate; I overwhelmed him first and let understanding follow later.
Marie’s voice came from the parlor.
“This is Monbel's first greeting. We've packed sweetness, fat, and the saltiness of black roe into a single bite.”
The explanation was short, too.
We couldn't go on and on with a long story for Duke Kalden.
A man like that enjoyed the moment when he stood at the center more than listening to someone else's story.
Even if I told him the plate's history or cooking philosophy, the only question rolling around in his head would ultimately be, “So how satisfied will this make me?”
So today's plate had to hit the duke in the mouth before giving him time to think.
The duke looked down at the plate, then smiled.
“It's far more blatant than what Klever described.”
Elysia answered calmly.
“It's a meal tailored to its guest.”
The duke's smile deepened at that.
“You mean you know me?”
“I mean that I want to know you.”
‘My lady, you're really getting good at this.’
I nodded inwardly as I stirred the sauce pot in the kitchen.
Elysia was becoming someone who could at least sell her house at this table.
In the past, she would have chosen and re-chosen her words to avoid being rude, but now she was even calculating the form of arrogance her opponent wanted to hear.
The duke took his first bite.
His reaction was quick.
He immediately raised an eyebrow.
He didn't chew for long, either.
The fat from the butter, the saltiness of the roe, the sweetness of the honey, and the light sting of the red spice must have struck all at once.
The duke gave a low laugh.
“Good.”
I let out a breath inwardly.
The fact that those words had come out meant the first bait had been taken.
The second dish was shrimp and root-vegetable purée.
I quickly cooked the shrimp in oil to bring out its aroma, then finely mashed sweetly cooked root vegetables and spread them underneath.
I added only a touch of acidity on top.
It had to cut through the richness like the tip of a knife just before it filled his mouth completely.
That way, before taking the next bite, his palate would reach for it again first.
Thomas, who had finished reducing the sauce, muttered as he looked at the plate.
“Does this really look like such expensive food?”
“We have to make it look that way.”
“How?”
“Wash dishes first. Start by wiping the rim. Expensive food needs clean surroundings first.”
Thomas immediately picked up a cloth.
For a new recruit, he had decent awareness.
Not enough to impress me, but at least he got faster when I cursed him out.
In a kitchen, that was enough to pass for now.
A slow person was more dangerous than someone clumsy with a knife, and someone who couldn't follow instructions was more dangerous than a slow person.
The second plate went out.
The duke ate it immediately this time, too.
He wasn't the type to slowly check the aroma or admire the empty space on the plate like the marchioness.
But that wasn't a bad thing. Today's course had been designed on that assumption.
“It's sweet. But it isn't cloying.”
Elysia answered.
“Greed becomes ugly if you let it linger too long, too.”
The air in the parlor froze for an instant.
I almost stopped stirring the sauce.
Duke Kalden glared at Elysia for a moment.
His gaze sharpened briefly, but soon he burst out laughing.
“Miss Monbel, you're quite bold today.”
“This meal was prepared for Your Grace.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“I'm entertaining you.”
The duke didn't stop laughing.
Thank goodness.
A man like that might get angry if you touched his pride, but if you prodded it just the right amount, he actually enjoyed it.
Especially while he believed he was overwhelming the person in front of him.
Some people accepted insolence from someone weaker than them not as an insult, but like an amusing little performance.
An irritatingly awful personality, but from a merchant's perspective, it had its uses.
Elysia's words had been close to the line, but she hadn't crossed it yet.
The third course was soup.
A rich broth made from roasted onions and bone stock.
If the peppery soup we'd served the marquis and marchioness had been meant to warm them from within, this soup was meant to fill the mouth.
Sweet, heavy, with a trace of red spice lingering at the end.
“Uncle Bernard, you take this one out.”
“The explanation?”
“Keep it short. Just include ‘controlled greed.’”
Uncle Bernard wasn't even surprised anymore.
At first, he had found it strange that I attached wordplay like this to every plate, but now his face showed that he had accepted the fact that guests paid for the wordplay.
Soon, his low voice echoed through the parlor.
“A soup made from roasted onions and bone stock. We slowly simmered the sweetness and fat down and captured them as controlled greed.”
The duke smiled with satisfaction when he heard that.
“Controlled greed. I like it.”
He tasted the soup.
This time, he said nothing and ate one spoonful, then another, more slowly than I expected.
The stronger a person's preference for strong flavors, the quieter they became for a moment when they encountered a truly well-made strong flavor.
Simple stimulation and genuine power were different things.
This soup was close to the kind of luxury the duke was familiar with, but there must have been that final little difference.
That little difference was what we charged money for.
The duke set down the empty bowl.
“If I'd known Monbel could serve a meal like this, I might have come a little sooner.”
His gaze turned toward Elysia.
“In more ways than one.”
I felt disgusted.
I lightly clenched my teeth as I prepared the main plate in the kitchen.
Elysia was smiling, but there was no way she hadn't understood what he meant.
The duke still viewed her like an object on the table.
It was just that today, a more interesting toy called cooking had appeared beside that object.
In that case, we simply had to sell it to him at a higher price.
I took out the game bird.
The skin was crisp, and fat had seeped subtly through the meat.
I brushed it lightly with a sauce reduced from honey, liquor, and bone stock, and its aroma surged the moment it hit the plate.
Sweet, fatty, and intense.
A main course tailored to the duke's pride.
I wiped the rim of the plate and said,
“Marie.”
“Yeah.”
“Don't shake this time.”
“I know.”
“This is the centerpiece of today.”
Marie inhaled and took the plate.
Her fingertips were just a little stiff, but the plate itself didn't tremble.
When she had first entered the kitchen, she would already have been breathless by this point, but now she at least understood that she was walking through the middle of a battlefield.
When Marie carried the plate out, I could feel the aroma spreading through the parlor even from inside the kitchen.
The duke leaned forward slightly the instant he saw the plate.
That reaction was enough. The man already thought he had won before eating.
Now all we had to do was make him pay after he ate.
The duke cut into the meat, and the skin made a crunching sound.
The moment he took a bite, he closed his eyes for the first time, if only very briefly.
I laughed inwardly at that moment.
‘Got him.’
The duke slowly opened his eyes and said,
“Good.”
It was a short, weighty compliment.
“This is really good.”
The atmosphere in the parlor changed.
The duke's attendants heard those words, and so did Elysia.
A man like that didn't acknowledge things easily.
But he had just acknowledged this.
The duke looked at Elysia.
“Miss Monbel.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“I really like this meal.”
“We're honored.”
“And that chef, too.”
The air inside the kitchen turned cold.
The duke's gaze turned toward me beyond the door.
“Let me say it again. Kyle Prat, give him to me. I'll adjust your debts by as much as you want.”
Elysia was silent for a moment.
I set down the towel I was holding.
‘Yes, I knew a recruitment offer was coming.’
The duke wasn't the sort of man who ate something good and came back for more; he was the sort who wanted to bring something good into his own house.
Elysia smiled slowly.
“Your Grace.”
“Speak.”
“There is still dessert.”
The duke's eyebrow rose.
“Are you putting off your answer?”
“No.”
Elysia said very demurely,
“I'm raising the price.”
Now it was time to put a price tag on the duke's pride with the final plate.