(Morcster Chef Book 2) - Chapter 87 (Patreon)

Arek grabbed a bowl from his bag, tossing it onto the table and taking three large spoonfuls of the butter. He dumped them into the bowl and held a hand over them, channeling energy through the runes on his claws.

A faint golden glow illuminated the butter and it started to melt rapidly, turning liquid within seconds. Arek lowered his hand and took several cloves of garlic from his pile, cracking it open with the flat of his blade and removing the skin before mincing it finely.

He tossed the garlic into the bowl and followed it up with several healthy glugs of soy sauce. The orc mixed everything together, then threw in a dash of parsley and black pepper. He dipped a finger into the sauce and gave it a quick taste before nodding to himself.

There were several cooking utensils at the side of the table. Arek moved a skewer system and a baking tray out of the way, grabbing a wide brimmed dish with high walls. He set it down beside his workspace, then carefully arranged the chicken within it. He gave the sauce a quick stir, then poured it over the meat, making sure it was evenly coated.

Arek pulled the broiler open and was rewarded with a blast of hot air straight to his face. His nostrils flared and he squinted slightly, putting his meal into the oven and closing the door behind it.

His preparation done, Arek sat down on the edge of the desk to watch Gernon cook. The other chef’s hands were a blur as he danced around the table, finely chopping and dicing vegetables.

The chicken crackled in a pan over the fire, oil sizzling and popping around it. If Gernon saw Arek watching him, he gave no signs of it. Even from where Arek stood, he could smell the powerful spices twisting and melding together like an orchestra.

Ever since the two of them had started cooking, the crowd’s volume had lowered to a low roar. It was impossible for a group of that size to be completely quiet, but they looked to be doing their best.

It didn’t take a genius to see that Gernon’s dish was significantly more complicated than Arek’s. The orc wouldn’t have been surprised if the spices the man were using cost more than his entire meal. However, unlike the steak cook off that Arek had done in Greenridge, Gernon was highly unlikely to mindlessly believe that the quality of his food would carry its flavor.

Minutes ticked by, and Arek drew in every detail of how the man seamlessly slipped from every aspect of his meal, not wasting a single minute. He seemed to instinctively know when the chicken needed to be flipped on the pan or how much spice had to be added to the mix to get the flavor perfect.

Arek glanced through the door of his oven. The top of his chicken had started to darken, but it was yet to show any real color. The pleasant scent of butter and garlic wafted into his nostrils, but it was overpowered by the intense spices that Gernon was using.

Meanwhile, Gernon had added his spice mixture to his pan, turning the chicken bright orange. A dense sauce bubbled tantalizingly around it like a miniature volcano.

More time passed, and soon nearly half of their allotted time had run out. The chicken in Arek’s oven finally started to gain a faint golden-brown crust. The edges darkened and the meat glistened in the red light of the broiler. Arek pulled it open and reached inside, grabbing the large baking tray with both hands.

He set it down on the table, then closed the oven and flicked the dial to the off position. It collapsed down back to its strange basket shape. Gernon looked over at Arek for the first time since they’d started cooking. He gave the orc a small nod.

A few minutes later, Gernon removed a lid from his pan and poured the orange dish onto a large plate. He spent a moment cleaning the edge from a stray sauce splatter, then walked over to the halfway point between their cooking stations. Arek mirrored the motion.

“Have you finished your dish?” Gernon asked.

“I have,” Arek said.

“As have I,” Gernon declared. He turned to Betsy, who quickly pranced up before them.

“What a shocking event, folks!” Betsy called out. “Neither contestant has used their entire allotted time. In a twist of events, the challenger actually finished before Gernon! But does this mean that he’s more skilled, or does it mean that he’s careless? Let’s find out!”

Betsy reached for both of the dishes, but Arek caught her hand. She glanced up at him in surprise.

“The dish is hot,” Arek said. “You’ll burn your hands.”

Betsy’s eyes widened. “That would have been embarrassing. I haven’t done this in too long. Thanks for the warning.”

She grabbed a pair of tongs from Gernon’s table. Then she revealed ten plates seemingly out of midair through some spell that Arek didn’t recognize. She laid them out in the air, where they floated as the woman filled half of them with Arek’s dish and the other half with the one that Gernon had made.

Betsy flicked her hand spun, walking towards the judges. Silverware formed out of the air and landed gently upon the plates, which slowly floated after her. They lowered themselves before the judges, the final one drifting gently into her hands.

“We’re going to start the judging process!” Betsy called out. “If you’re getting hungry, don’t forget you can pick up some meals in the tavern! Gernon’s assistant chefs have been hard at work cooking, and their food is almost as good as his is!”

Several people broke away from the crowd and headed into the tavern at that announcement, but the majority of them didn’t budge an inch. Everyone watched the judges with rapt attention.