Chapter 49
When I sent out the letters, the restaurant owners soon sent replies.
At first, I thought two or three people might come, but there were actually a great many who said they would.
Two from the capital, one from an eastern commercial city, one from a southern gateway city, and one from the western mountains.
On top of that, there was a merchant who hadn't opened a restaurant yet but was preparing to do so.
When all seven of them arrived, the Maison Monbel drawing room suddenly filled with the unmistakable smell of merchants.
Marie watched them and whispered quietly,
“More of them came than I expected.”
“I know.”
“They're all people who copied us, right?”
“Most of them.”
“Doesn't that make you angry?”
“I'm not foolish enough to get angry at ordinary people.”
The restaurant owners all looked nervous.
They had good reason to be.
If you were personally summoned by the original restaurant you had been copying, it was hard to expect to hear anything pleasant.
Some had come expecting to be scolded, while others thought they had seized an opportunity to steal techniques.
A few of them looked calculating from the very beginning.
‘At least that's better.’
A restaurant owner who wasn't calculating would soon go under.
Elysia had them sit in the drawing room.
“Today’s meeting is for Maison Monbel to explain the basic principles of operating a new-style course restaurant. We’ll offer advice, but we do not permit unauthorized use of Maison Monbel’s name or recipes. If you use them without permission…the Kleber family and House Monbel will take joint action.”
At Elysia's warning, the restaurant owners' expressions stiffened slightly.
This was something Elysia and I had discussed beforehand as part of our carrot-and-stick strategy.
You had to rough them up with the stick first for the carrot to work.
“I will explain from here. I am Kyle Pratt, the head chef of Maison Monbel.”
In my previous life, I had appeared on television and given a few lectures, but I never imagined I would end up standing before restaurant owners in another world.
Life was strange.
It had become even stranger after I died.
“First, I want to say one thing.”
I looked around at them.
“Do not copy Maison Monbel.”
The drawing room grew quiet.
One restaurant owner from the capital spoke cautiously,
“But we hoped to learn from Maison Monbel's methods…”
“Learning is fine. Copying is the problem.”
He closed his mouth.
I continued.
“Serving several dishes in sequence. Operating by reservation. Weaving a story into the meal. Providing guests with a special experience. You may learn all of that. But if you sell exactly what Maison Monbel sells? You will fail.”
Marie gave a tiny laugh behind me.
“Because guests aren't fools.”
I said,
“If they eat something similar, they will compare it, and when they compare the two, the original will win. That means you will never be able to beat us.”
It was a cruel thing to say, but it was true.
A restaurant that copied another could never beat the original at its own game.
When two people walked the same road, the one who set out first had the advantage.
So I had to show them a different path.
I unfolded a map of the empire on the table.
“What you need to find isn't Maison Monbel, but what each of your own restaurants does best.”
The owner from the east narrowed his eyes.
“When you say what we do well…”
“I mean exactly that. Why does your restaurant belong in that city? Why should people from that region eat that food? Why should they eat it at your restaurant rather than somewhere else? You need to find food that can answer those questions.”
I pointed to the eastern riverbanks on the map.
“There should be freshwater fish along the eastern rivers. I've heard there is a local dish that uses herbs and vinegar to eliminate the fishy smell. Refine it. Don't simply copy Maison Monbel's fish; put the eastern rivers on the plate.”
The eastern owner's eyes widened slightly.
This time, I pointed to the south.
“The south uses a lot of spices and fruit. Meat, sweetness, and spicy aromas go together there. People from the capital can't easily imitate that. They don't know the heat of the region or the smells of its markets. Use those things.”
The southern owner slowly nodded.
“I've heard the western mountains have coarse bread, smoked meat, and goat's-milk cheese. Don't be ashamed of them. Don't think they're too rustic for nobles; refine the rusticity itself. You can create a table that feels like one set by someone who crossed the mountains.”
Even the owner from the west nodded, and then the restaurant owner from the capital raised his hand.
“Then what should a restaurant in the capital do? The capital doesn't have any obvious local specialties.”
“There are a lot of people in the capital.”
He hesitated.
“People?”
“People who have come to the capital from every region, people who work at court, wealthy merchants, and nobles who are the first to chase new trends. Restaurants in the capital have less of a regional identity, but more choices. You can make that the crossroads of the empire—or a hodgepodge. Go in one of those directions. But mix too much, and it becomes a garbage dump.”
The capital owner's expression grew complicated.
I added,
“The difference between a good hodgepodge and a garbage dump is intent.”
The restaurant owners became far more serious than they had been at first.
Initially, they had looked like people hoping to take away even a little of Maison Monbel's cooking methods.
But now their faces had changed. They were thinking about their own regions, their own ingredients, and their own customers.
That was a good change.
A new-style course restaurant wasn't a place that served expensive plates one after another; it was a place that served its own distinctive food in courses.
Without that individuality, the food became a joke.
I told them,
“Find good ingredients. They don't have to be expensive. The ingredients people in that region eat most often, have eaten for the longest, or can obtain in the best condition. Ingredients like those are often more powerful.”
One owner asked,
“Are foods eaten by commoners acceptable too?”
“They're even better.”
A faint stir ran through the drawing room.
I answered immediately,
“But you can't serve them unchanged. You have to understand the reasons behind them and refine them. Why were they boiled for so long? Why were they salted so heavily? Why were hot spices used? Why was the bread coarse? Poverty has its reasons, and labor has flavor. If you ignore that and merely put the food on a pretty plate, it's an insult.”
No one laughed this time.
Elysia was watching me quietly.
I felt a little embarrassed.
‘Did I get unnecessarily serious?’
But it was important.
Food comes from someone's life.
If you want to sell it at a high price, you must at least not look down on that life.
The moment you look down on it, the food becomes cheap.
By the end of the lecture, the restaurant owners' notebooks were packed with notes.
Finally, I drove the point home.
“Don't try to imitate Maison Monbel. Create a meal that can only come from the place where your restaurant is located. If you can't do that, you will ultimately end up with a cheap imitation.”
Silence lingered for a while.
Then the eastern restaurant owner lowered his head.
“Thank you for the advice. If possible, could you come to our region in person and look over our menu?”
At last, a request for an on-site consultation had come.
I answered slowly,
“That is possible.”
Elysia's eyes glinted ever so slightly.
“But it will be expensive.”
The restaurant owners all looked at me at once.
I said calmly,
“If I go in person, I’ll be leaving Maison Monbel without its head chef. There is travel time, preparation time, research into local ingredients, menu demonstrations, staff training, and checking the flow of operations. It isn't just a matter of offering a word or two of advice.”
The southern restaurant owner swallowed.
“Roughly how much…”
Before I could answer, Elysia stepped forward.
“The fee for an on-site regional consultation will vary depending on the distance, duration, and scope of the request.”
Her voice was very gentle.
It was the voice of someone fully prepared to make money.
“The basic fee includes Kyle Pratt's daily consulting fee, compensation for the disruption to Maison Monbel's operations, the cost of accompanying personnel, travel and lodging, and ingredient research. In addition, using the consultation results in advertising will require a separate contract.”
‘My lady…when did you prepare all this?’
No, had she just thought of it now?
Honestly, given how she normally operated, that seemed more likely, which made it even more frightening.
Uncle Bernard was already taking out a sheet of paper.
“Anyone interested may fill out a preliminary application. However, we won't accept every request. Any establishment that isn't a good fit for the Maison Monbel name and standards may be rejected.”
The restaurant owners' expressions were complicated.
Some were intimidated by the mention of the price, while others' eyes lit up instead.
The latter were people prepared to pay.
The owner from the western mountains spoke quietly.
“I don't mind if it's expensive. I just hate hearing that our regional food is nothing but rustic to people in the capital.”
I liked what he said.
“Then fill out the application. I'll give it a proper review.”
He lowered his head.
“I will.”
Elysia smiled.
“A trip to the western mountains will cost quite a bit in travel expenses.”
“My lady, you looked far too pleased just now.”
“It's your imagination.”
Absolutely not.
After the lecture ended, the restaurant owners left.
All that remained in the drawing room were empty teacups and several densely filled applications.
Marie scratched her head and said,
“So now we're selling restaurant owners lessons on how to run restaurants too?”
“Right. Kyle Pratt's Alley…no, Local Restaurant. And you're playing Jo Bo-ah.”
“What's that?”
“The pretty-face and reaction department.”
At that, Marie winked at me.
I couldn't see Elysia's reaction with her head bowed, but suddenly, Uncle Bernard straightened his back.
A moment later, Elysia lifted her head and said as she organized the applications,
“We need to choose the first consulting trip carefully. It has to become a success story.”
“The west seems good.”
I said,
“Why?”
“He takes pride in his region's food. People like that are ready to learn. They're better than people who only want to borrow Maison Monbel's name.”
Elysia nodded.
“Good. Then let's set the price high.”
“Why?”
“Because pride deserves a price.”
I laughed and said,
“You've learned well.”
“Who else would I have learned it from?”
Marie muttered beside us,
“You two have gotten scary.”
I couldn't deny it.