The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 385

"Mr. Thorne," Chef Vance said with a polite nod. "What exactly would you like to learn today?"

Sebastian stood up, suppressing a wince, and walked over to him.

"I want to learn how to make a flawless julienned potato hash."

Chef Vance blinked, momentarily thrown off.

"Excuse me?"

"A perfectly seasoned julienned potato hash," Sebastian repeated with deadpan seriousness. "Can you teach me?"

The chef's expression twisted slightly.

He had spent twenty years in elite kitchens and a decade at a three-Michelin-star restaurant. He had taught dozens of wealthy clients how to master French gastronomy, exquisite sushi, and complex molecular gastronomy.

This was the absolute first time a billionaire had hired him to cook peasant food.

But he masked his surprise instantly.

"Of course," the chef replied smoothly. "It is a fundamental dish."

Sebastian gave a curt nod.

"Then let's get started."

—

In the massive, state-of-the-art kitchen, Chef Vance tied his apron and laid out the ingredients.

Potatoes, dried chilies, peppercorns, garlic, scallions, vinegar, salt, and sugar.

As he worked, he began his lecture.

"A julienned potato hash seems incredibly simple, but true mastery requires flawless execution. The secret lies entirely in the precision of your knife skills and exact heat control."

He picked up a peeled potato and began to slice.

The blade became a blur of silver. Under his expert hands, the potato was instantly transformed into perfectly uniform, razor-thin matchsticks, each one identical in thickness to the last.

Sebastian stood practically shoulder-to-shoulder with him, his dark eyes tracking every micro-movement.

Chef Vance set the knife down.

"Your turn, Mr. Thorne. Give it a try."

Sebastian stepped up, gripped the heavy chef's knife, and grabbed a fresh potato.

He took a deep breath and made his first cut.

The slice was uneven and aggressively thick.

The second cut veered completely off angle.

By the third cut, the blade nearly took off his fingertip.

Watching from the side, the chef's mouth twitched in barely contained horror.

But he kept his voice rigorously professional. "Keep your knuckles curled inward like this. The blade needs to drop straight down..."

Following the instructions, Sebastian aggressively started over.

One slice. Two slices. Three.

The resulting potato strips were a chaotic disaster. Some were as thick as steak fries, others as thin as toothpicks. It looked like a massacre.

Standing by the island, Lance aggressively covered his mouth, his shoulders shaking as he fought back a laugh.

Chef Vance's expression was equally strained.

But he managed an encouraging nod. "For a first attempt, that is... an effort."

Sebastian stared down at the butchered potato shreds, his brow furrowing into a dark scowl.

"Again."

He grabbed another potato.

This one was marginally better.

But still completely unacceptable.

He grabbed another.

And another.

And another.

...

Half an hour later, the massive butcher block was buried under a mountain of ruined potatoes.

Sebastian's hands were coated in starch, a sheen of sweat breaking out across his forehead. He stood rigid, glaring intensely at the catastrophic pile of vegetables, refusing to say a word.

Chef Vance finally couldn't take the tension anymore.

"Mr. Thorne," he offered diplomatically, "perhaps we should move on to the actual cooking technique? The knife skills will come with practice."

Sebastian looked up, his predatory gaze locking onto the chef.

"For this specific dish, what matters more? The precise julienne, or the seasoning?"

The chef hesitated.

"The seasoning, absolutely," he admitted. "Even with perfect knife work, if the flavor profile falls flat, the dish is ruined."