Chapter 43
Today was a day off.
By rights, everyone should have stayed out of the kitchen and taken the day off.
But at Maison Monbel, the words “day off” were generally close to a lie.
We weren’t accepting guests, but ingredients still arrived, ledgers piled up, reservation requests for upcoming dates had to be read, and the wine cellar’s temperature and condition had to be checked.
On top of that, lately there had been talk about how the records of the chef selection competition were doing, and how Count Kleber planned to expand the next event.
So I put a chair right in front of the kitchen’s back door and sat down.
It was an expression of my determination not to move.
Marie saw me as she passed by and asked,
“What are you doing?”
“Taking a break.”
“You’re taking a break in that position?”
“I’m doing my best.”
“You’re holding a knife.”
“Huh? What?”
Looking down, I saw that my hand was holding a paring knife and unconsciously peeling an apple.
Unconscious knife work… How horrifying…
“You gotta do what you gotta do.”
“Just go lie down in bed for a while, Kyle. Stop wandering around the kitchen.”
Just then, Elysia walked over from the direction of the garden.
Today, her dress was lighter than usual, and her hair was neatly but comfortably tied back.
These days, Elysia was beginning to look more and more like the head of House Monbel in high society.
She hadn’t officially succeeded to the title yet, but anyone could tell that her formal succession was coming soon.
But at home, rather than a capable manager, she was simply a young, pretty, and kind… Well, I wasn’t sure about kind, but anyway, she was that sort of girl.
She stood in front of me and hesitated for a moment.
“Kyle, today is a day off, right?”
“That is what has been decided.”
“Then can I ask you a favor?”
A favor on a day off was the most dangerous sentence a worker could hear.
I instinctively became wary.
“What favor would that be?”
“Make me a meal.”
I blinked for a moment.
“The kitchen will be preparing your meal.”
In the past, I had made all the food Elysia ate, but after I became Maison Monbel’s head chef, the other cooks began taking care of her meals.
For lunch, they simply served her a separate portion from the staff table, and they only prepared a separate dinner for her.
“I just… want to eat a meal you made for me again, since it’s been a while.”
Elysia turned her gaze away, looking a little embarrassed.
“Just for me, since it’s been so long. Not a course. You don’t have to give a long explanation, either. The plates don’t have to be too pretty. Just make whatever you want to make for me.”
“There’s no reason I can’t. Would you like something home-cooked?”
“Home-cooked? Is that different from what we normally eat?”
“I’ll make you the sort of food I used to eat back home.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
Marie narrowed her eyes beside me.
“I thought it was a day off.”
“It’s only one serving.”
“Hmmmmmm…”
Whatever Marie said, giving food to someone who asked for it wasn’t difficult.
I checked the ingredients we had left.
There was a little good chicken.
There were vegetables, mushrooms, eggs, freshly baked bread, grains, pickled vegetables, and even some clear broth left over from the previous day.
We didn’t have many high-end ingredients, but it was enough.
I started by making soup.
I finely chopped the chicken and vegetables and slowly cooked them in the clear broth.
I used almost no spices, carefully adjusted the seasoning with salt instead, and added a few mushrooms at the end.
It was hot and clear, and easy to eat with a spoon.
Next came steamed eggs.
I beat the eggs, mixed in warm broth, and slowly cooked them over low heat.
If they cooked too long, they would turn tough, so I lowered the heat and waited. At the end, I sprinkled just a little finely chopped herbs on top.
After that, I made potato pancakes.
I grated the potatoes, drained off the excess moisture, added salt, and spread them thinly in a pan.
Crispy on the outside and chewy on the inside.
I served them with finely chopped sour pickled vegetables.
Finally, I made fried rice with chicken scraps and mushrooms.
The rice variety wasn’t the wonderfully chewy kind I had in mind, but if I cooked it until fluffy and stir-fried it in oil, it came reasonably close.
I added chicken, mushrooms, a little egg, and finely chopped vegetables, then stir-fried everything well.
I kept the seasoning mild and adjusted the texture so it could be scooped up easily with a spoon.
While I cooked, the kitchen was strangely quiet.
The kitchen was usually a battlefield.
Orders came in, Marie moved around, Thomas repeated every instruction, and Uncle Bernard kept track of the time.
But today, I was alone.
There was no tension from waiting for guests, and even my mind, which was always calculating prices, got to rest for a moment.
It had been a long time since I had cooked without thinking about anything.
Even in my previous life, it had sometimes been like that.
Nights when I made food for other people all day in a high-end restaurant kitchen, went home, and lazily cooked myself some ramen or fried rice.
Back then, I had sometimes thought those meals were pathetic.
But after I died, those meals were the ones that stayed with me longer.
People sometimes remember comforting flavors longer than expensive ones.
“It’s ready.”
I placed the food on a small table.
Elysia’s eyes went round.
“That’s a lot.”
“Home cooking is supposed to have all sorts of things.”
“Is all this mine?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“You asked for it, my lady.”
“I don’t think I can eat it all.”
“If you leave any, I’ll just eat it.”
Elysia carefully sat down.
Elysia was in a small room beside the kitchen.
It was where the employees occasionally drank tea or organized the ingredient lists.
It wasn’t luxurious, but the garden was visible through the window, and sunlight streamed inside.
She picked up her spoon and started with the soup.
Her expression immediately softened.
“It’s delicious.”
“I’m glad.”
Elysia took another spoonful of soup.
This time, a little more.
She tried to eat as elegantly as a noble young lady, but soon gave up.
After gulping down the soup, Elysia began tapping the steamed eggs with her spoon.
“What’s this?”
“Eggs cooked until soft.”
“Mmm—! This is good. It’s like a savory pudding. I didn’t know there were dishes like this.”
“It’s a dish that came from a surprisingly simple idea, but apparently people only eat it this way in my hometown and the surrounding regions.”
“Make this for me often from now on.”
After eating half the steamed eggs, Elysia reached her fork toward the potato pancakes.
“Is this a pancake?”
“Something similar. But it’s made from potatoes, and a salty sauce goes better with it than a sweet one. Dip it in this.”
Elysia dipped the potato pancake into a sauce I had recreated as closely as possible to soy sauce, then brought the fork straight to her mouth.
When she bit into the crisp exterior, it made a crunchy sound, and Elysia’s eyes widened slightly.
“Oh, it’s delicious!”
“Things fried in oil are generally delicious. In my hometown, we have a saying that even an eraser would taste good if you fried it.”
“The people from your hometown are amusing. And what’s this sour thing?”
“They’re chopped pickled vegetables. They cut through the greasiness.”
Elysia nodded and picked up another piece.
Seeing her open her mouth wide and tear into the potato pancake was a little unfamiliar.
Elysia always calculated everything when she was in front of guests.
How a particular remark might spread through high society, what a price might mean to the nobles, who wanted to embrace us, and who was trying to keep us in check.
Even when she smiled, she was always tense somewhere inside.
But right now, she was simply eating.
She ate because it was delicious, blew on it because it was hot, and picked up another piece because it was crispy.
I liked that.
After Elysia heartily ate the fried rice as well, she gently rubbed her full stomach, and I quietly pulled the plate away.
I supposed I should eat what was left.
When the meal was nearly over, Elysia said,
“I used to find eating a hassle. Debt collection notices came, the servants left one by one, my father’s name was on everyone’s lips, and I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. Back then, nothing tasted good, no matter what I ate. I didn’t even really know whether I was hungry.”
She looked down at the empty bowls.
“But these days, I get hungry.”
I listened to her quietly.
“When I wake up in the morning, I wonder what will be coming in today. At lunch, when I smell the staff meal, I find myself looking toward the kitchen for no reason. At night, I look forward to seeing the next reservation request. And sometimes I just want to eat something delicious for no reason at all.”
Elysia looked at me and smiled.
“I like that.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“Yeah. That’s why I asked you today.”
“I understand what you mean.”
“Really?”
“Probably.”
She set down her spoon.
The bowls were nearly empty.
There was only a little soup, potato pancake, steamed egg, and fried rice left.
If this had been a course meal, you might have called it a failure of portion control, but for home cooking, it was a success.
With home cooking, the eater’s expression matters more than how much food is left.
Elysia looked satisfied.
“Kyle, make this for me on your next day off, too.”
“I’ll do it if you raise my salary.”
“Of course I will.”
“No, wait, what?”
It had obviously been a joke.
I was already being paid enough to be perfectly satisfied, so I had no intention of asking for more money. But Elysia had taken me seriously.
“I mean it. I already owe you so much. Of course I’d give you a higher salary.”
“I mean, I won’t refuse if you give me more, but…”
“Anyway, thanks to you, I had a good meal today. Get some good rest for the rest of your day.”
Elysia left the room, and I began clearing away the remaining dishes.
A little while later, Marie poked her head through the doorway.
“Did my lady finish her meal?”
“She just finished.”
“Is there any for me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I said it was one person’s portion.”
“You’re seriously too much.”
“I’m kidding. There’s some left, so let’s split it. Here, eat this.”
I placed a remaining piece of potato pancake on a plate and held it out to Marie.
Marie accepted it and ate it immediately.
“It’s good.”
“Right?”
“Make this for the staff meal tomorrow.”
“All right.”
“Yay, potato pancakes~”
Marie vanished out the door, shouting her strange cheer.
I polished off the rest of the meal, then cleared away the dishes.