Absinthe novel Chapter 28

It had been three months since that stupid kiss. In other words, it had been a full 90 or so days of fighting a hard battle to stop myself from slapping the shit out of the asshole that was Jiwoo. Every single moment with him in our classes was plain torture. My hands were itching to beat him to a pulp, and the itch was akin to some stubborn wart that refuses to go away.

I'm not a violent person, and the diary I've kept since I was in second grade will prove to you that I have never been in a fist fight my entire life. But fine, I'll admit that maybe it's my innate gayness that has prevented me from even roughhousing anyone. I may have a sharp tongue sometimes, but I've never felt the desire to hurt someone physically.

Until now.

Because what that asshole had done was plain unbelievable.

It was horrible.

Disgusting.

Cruel.

"Oi, BJ! Three orders of our specialty lava cake!"

"Huh?"

"Quit daydreaming and get your ass to plating these!"

"Yes, Chef!"

True to Chef Maxwell's word, our classes had drastically changed after the palate test. Genre after genre, dish after dish, ingredient after ingredient, Chef Maxwell started hammering the entire world of cuisine into our skulls.

Our morning classes in business management were also over. They had been replaced with afternoon classes in food science, only this time, we were studying the chemical properties of each ingredients. And to be honest with you, that was the only thing I was enjoying about the course.

It was fun learning about what makes one type of potato different from another, or how one type of tomato has more sugars than the next. Or about the cynarin in artichokes that disables your tongue's sweetness receptors for a while before fooling your brain into thinking that the next bite you take is so much sweeter than it actually is.

Fun, right?

I guess that was just me because Nico, Vivi, and the asshole I'm refusing to name from now on seemed to be winging our food science classes.

On the other hand, since the number of hands-on sessions had doubled, I started falling behind. But that was to be expected because all three of my classmates have more extensive culinary backgrounds. What did I have save for my decade-long experience in churning out financial projections and kissing the asses of old men a.k.a. my bosses? None.

And that was the reason why those in Chef Maxwell's kitchen despaired whenever I was assigned to their section for my OJT.

Well, maybe except for the pâtissier, Chef Jacob. He was neutral about having me in his section because I hardly made mistakes with desserts, but he was far from satisfied with my speed.

"I said stop daydreaming. If you don't, I'll kick you out!"

"Three servings of lava cake ready for service, Chef!"

"Go out and serve it yourself. The guests specifically asked to meet you."

A wrinkle formed between my eyebrows. "What? Chef, have I done something wrong?"

"Repeat customers from yesterday," Chef Jacob clarified with a smile. "They've been looking for you since they tasted your lava cake, but you were already in class with Chef Maxwell when they asked for you. You've done great, so go and take your compliments."

Despite the anger boiling in me for the past three months, my loneliness from Cassie's and Faye's absolute lack of contact, and the fatigue at always being the worst OJT chef, I felt happy.

"But I couldn't have done it if—"

"Nonsense!" Chef Jacob interrupted. "This is your recipe. You were the one who put the lava in that lava cake. Take pride in what you do, BJ, because you're excellent at it."

I was really glad. Even with the grueling work required, I figured there was still a future for me in the industry after all.

"Congratulations, BJ," said Chef Maxwell at the start of our class that night. "You're the first person to earn a compliment from our very picky customers. Until when are you going to keep me waiting, Nico? Vivi? Jiwoo?"

None of them answered, but I could feel their frustration.

"I was expecting all of you to at least get a compliment from a customer before we go onto the next stage of your education. I guess we really can't wait for that now, can we?"

"We'll get it, Chef Maxwell."

It was Jiwoo.

Shit! I just promised myself not to mention or even think about his name! How could I forget that?

"Very well," Chef Maxwell said, nodding in acknowledgement to that annoying person who I 100% won't name anymore. "Let's move on then. For centuries there has been a lot of debate on what the greatest cuisines of the world are. The de facto common belief is that French, Chinese, and Turkish share the title of the world's three greatest cuisines.

"However, a recent study and survey of how the different cuisines stand up against each other was conducted by none other than the Federation of United Chef Knights, or FUCK. Cuisines from all around the world were ranked based on their cultural influence, technicality, variation, and, of course, taste.

"Can you guess which cuisines came out on top?"

The annoying half-Korean said, "Indian."