If you were a crab, an animal that tends to flock together, what would it be like to migrate in the autumn alone? Or if it's a grasshopper. How does it feel to fly somewhere to another alone? Normally people say it's sad. I think that's stupid thinking. How do they know when they've never been crabs or grasshoppers before, right?
Well, let's just take the 'normal' answer. If it's Caulburn's class, I'd rather skip school without paying off the attendance debt to make up for absenteeism. To hell with grades? It's not like I'm having trouble scoring good grades. The thing is quite tempérance, pay attention and learn a bit. When you don't understand? ask. Nonsense to people who think the system works overnight!
But it falls differently when you think it's gold? Not in the sense of something that hangs and is used as a showpiece. Or something on the finger that can increase social status for those who put pride in it. I'm talking about something you like. These are not objects, but activities.
"Is this correct, Mr. Fisherich?
His steps closer to my skillet. His hand seemed to move the smoke into his nose.
“Très bien! Do it at a constant 375 degrees! If you're not sure, use a thermometer!” he said more firmly. “Alors, the seasoning will permeate. Ah! Don't forget to drain later! You remember what I taught you?” he said while stroking his cute mustache.
“Monsieur a compris! (understood sir!) If you eat well, then everyone else must be good! If not, then even cats can't eat it!” I said excitedly and full of pride.
Mr. Fischenich, the rather sentimental cooking teacher, you can't even persuade him. At least you have to be careful. If lacking seasoning is bad luck, then forgetting or not at all is a failure.
What he teaches is true. But achieving it is not easy. It's not like you study and when you don't know, then just ask questions later. In a cooking class, ignorance must be answered as quickly as possible. The thing is, cooking is not just about knowledge. This technique is very necessary.
“Good, boy, good! I understand you are one of the diamonds among the mud!” his praise slightly made me rise to the sky. "The important thing is practice! Your progress is not from me, but you repeat practice even though you fail. Well that sucks a bit, but… now you're starting to understand.”
"Okay sir, thank you!"
Many people see him as too evil, scolds a lot for a man, and is a perfectionist. But slowly time I understand it. I mean… come on! We may complain about stupid cooking, but you don't want to be protested while cooking? How stupid is your brain, huh? It's the first time I've ever paid respect to a nagging person. Technically, Mr. Fischenich is like a second Caulburn, from my friends' point of view.
A few moments passed, after being drained, through the plating technique, then I was just waiting for him to use his tongue. To hell with grades, I just need it to be perfect. After all, cooking is also part of life. Even so, I do not hang my hopes in deep. In fact I'm more pessimistic than usual. Do you know? If you work hard, then waiting time for results is the most torturous thing.
The more heartbeat, he chewed my cooking results. His eyebrows that went up and down, instantly seemed to tug at my worries.
“Etonnant! (Amazing!) this is delicious!” he added nodding and then spooning the sauce. “It's thick, the acid can be added a little. The spiciness suits me, but certainly not for who doesn’t like this spicy level. The rest of this seasoning is just right. Good work!"
I feel relieved. It sounded even more satisfying the more it went through twenty trials. Well, ten times it failed to fry, ten times my spices fell apart.
"Okay, class is over son!"
“Thank you, monsieur!”
We also cleaned the room for a while. Normally it's not necessary. Yeah, I changed my ditching schedule.
It's also not like I'm such an amateur that the kitchen looks dirty. But I'm an absolute holder of all the facts about cooking. Well, number one is cleanliness.
“I am very proud of your hard work, however, this cannot be tolerated if your reasons are unreasonable. Say, why did you have to skip classes, son?”
That's an unexpected question. Actually I'm pretty sure if my results are good, he won't ask too many questions.
He took off his apron and placed it in the front cupboard.
“Actually… this is a bit hard to explain…”
His eyebrows rose slightly.
“Mark, you are talented. You have desire and persistence!” he added while holding his mustache that looks sensational. "Don't think wrong. I don't have time for people who aren't interested in my studies. I've been a loser too, twice, but now I own a restaurant!”
"You have a restaurant, sir?"
"Of course! You think Widehope is a small school? It's one of the best in Yorkshire!”
I looked unsure.
“Well, despite the fact… they have a lot of disgrace. It's not that I hate you guys or stand up for the rich one. But the truth is, I still make time for people like you. Even if they don't pay extra, at least.”
I'm just silent. I couldn't get frustrated at the fact he was talking about, but it was a bit sickening indeed.
He sighed.
"If you want to talk that would be a relief. But if not, so be it."
"Thank you sir."
After that tidied up, we ate the results of my cooking. Of course I prepared more than one portion.
"Don't you want to continue in the field of cooking?"
“That is a very attractive offer, sir!” I said confidently.
He looked at me deeply. His eyebrows then rose again.
“Um… you see. I have spent years seeing and meeting people. Always recruiting those who really want to be chefs is my job. But I have to be strict, because everyday the standard has to increase. The minimum remains and does not go down. Never have I seen someone as determined, an amateur as you, fail so many times and then succeed!”
“Eh? Never?"
He held his eyebrows again. His eyes glanced the other way.
“Well, no. At least not with your less than convincing eyes. I know your love for cooking, but those eyes of yours…. Look, I'm not an esper, but I can see people's character at least whether they believe it or not.”
"Because my eyes look less interested, but not with my love for cooking?"
“Et bien. Not just a diamond in the mud, but…a unique individual. You may not be as successful as those with a Michelin star, but your technique, determination and desire are on par with them. So that's why…”
"You confused?"
"So what's the problem, son? Don't tell me you're just having doubts? While that opportunity can change your future. At least from this place.”
I can understand, because this man in his 50s has more experience. I don't think what he said was wrong though.
“Um… I do love cooking-“
he interrupted.
“Love is not enough! It takes perseverance and strong determination!”
“But sir, I never thought of being a great cook. This is a personal thing. I like it, but don't really want to be great."
Fischenich glared at me.
"See? That's the problem! You say a good thing, but somehow it doesn't make any sense! It's like water and oil in one container! I don't understand what you're talking about!” His tone snapped with annoyance.
I was silent for a moment a bit scared.
“Um sir… actually… I'm doing this for the sake of… the wrong thing. Well, the thing is… I don't know how to say…” I said a bit embarrassed.
If telling the truth hurts, of course it applies to embarrassment.
"For example?"
“Um… woman? You know… I am quite happy to be complimented by a girl… hehe.”
The man is silent. It's like confusion. I could see his skin was slightly red, but I couldn't feel that he was angry. The atmosphere became a bit quiet. He looked thoughtful then shook his head in confusion. He is like a person who determines the future of his child. After the head he rubbed, his mustache is now being held non-stop.
Then he returned to silence again. I noticed that his body was slightly shaking. I don't understand what's funny.
“Sir… is something wrong?”
His laughter was getting louder. I can assure you that I am not a comedian, let alone an impromptu one. But this person would not stop. It's not getting slower, it's getting louder.
“Sir! I'm serious!" I said a little loudly.
He waved his hand, meaning to stop talking. I can assure you these are the moments where he laughs the longest and the least he makes up for it. Well, a little annoying, but my respect is higher than my arrogance.
After that it started to stop. I sighed.
“Blimey! I understand, son," he added. "If you are like that, it means I will not teach you more. Even I won't hire you in my restaurant.”
It's a shame to hear that. That's the second thing that saddens me the most. It's like you're rejecting the opportunity to increase your value as a sentient being.
"Hey, don't be so gloomy! You can't regret your own choice!” he said softly.
I feel like crying, but I can't. After all, a decision is a decision. That includes the sweet, but you also swallow the bitterness.
I returned our plates to be washed.
“Son, you are a second year?”
"Yes, Sir."
He held his mustache and thought deeply.
"That means in the third year, there won't be any additional practice?"
"Indeed, sir."
He came to me and held my shoulder, then looked at me deeply. However, his face this time was more serious than a look of disappointment.
“I will teach you something that is important to you and something that suits you. I have been said I wouldn't teach you just now, a little embarrassing indeed. but this is the very end,”
“No problem, sir! Two different things? Is that true?" I asked rather excitedly.
"But I won't have much time. This depends on proving your love for cooking. It's also incomplete, but I'm sure you'll improve greatly!”
I nodded with no worries.
“Et bien, the first is something that suits you…” said the man, tugging at his mustache. “This is just my concept. Cooking something sweet. Three romantic things are a sweet thing. The first, the woman is sweet. Second, women like sweet. Third, the sweets themselves. I will teach you the basics!”
Hearing that, my sadness instantly disappeared. I nod happily.
"The second. sir?”
He turned around while walking a little.
“What a complicated technique… An ingredient that you even have to know every character for….”
I guessed from the word 'character'.
“Seafoods?”
“Oui! but more complex and careful.
I swallowed my spit.
“An instrumentation of processing pufferfish meat!” he said excitedly.
After that, that night I couldn't sleep because I was too excited thinking about it. Of course I have noted the time.
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