Poulain

(Reading time: 11 minutes)

Beginning with working as a dishwasher in a local restaurant as a teenager, Zane Roland grew increasingly cognizant of, later vexed by what he thought was the lack of skill and effort of the place's kitchen workers. Loving the art of cooking himself, he frequently thought: "If only it were me standing there cutting the onions and slicing the tomatoes," eventually having his thoughts fulfilled when at some point the cooks themselves asked him to prepare their food for them. Still, he soon grew dissatisfied with the restaurant's cuisine and quality of products, so he left for another one, that plus they offered him a higher salary, having perceived his talent from rumors and the like. From there nothing much changed, though he did grow increasingly dissatisfied there too, until one day as he was standing in the kitching, cleaning a plate of his own accord since he needed it and the washers had been reluctant on the job...

"See the problem with this kitchen? It's the same as with every other one!" an explosive voice shouts.

A high pitched voice replies: "*Sighs* of course. You always think it's because of oooone single reason, and that's nothing other than--"

"IT'S NOT SPICY ENOUGH! IT HAS TO BE MORE SPICY!" the spice spirit continues. Zane continues to stare at them from the corners of his eyes.

"You basically want to spoonfeed them powdered black pepper at this point," a white spirit with a light grey bucket cap and a serene voice replies.

"Oh is that SO? YOU just basically want to spoonfeed them salt, Spirit of Salt!..."

"And that's why you gotta leave it to the Spirit of Texture," the blue spirit with the high pitched voice, a hard hat and black mono-sunglasses responds, pointing at himself with both his index fingers.

At this point Zane starts to slowly turn his body to the spirits so he can watch them better without their notice.

"You three lots always forget the most crucial part. Sure flavor is important, very important, and so is texture important, very important; but what about aroma?" a brown spirit with a pillbox hat and brown fur coat who sniffs in between every sentence says with a strict voice. Obviously she's the Spirit of Aroma. *SNIFFFFFFF*

"*Sighs* well I guess I shan't complain about the visual aspects then... for once." the purple spirit with bangs covering his eyes, the Spirit of the Visual Aspect, mumbles with a flat-, soft- and under-his-breath voice.

"Agreed!" all the other spirits shout in agreement. Then the Spirit of Spice suddenly looks towards Zane, who quickly averts his gaze and turns around, looking frightened and obviously hoping that the spirit didn't see him. Sadly for him, though, again, it is the red Spirit of Spice with the flowery blouse and a handful of brown blades for hair with whom he just crossed eyes.

"Hey guys, guys! Did you see that?"

"See what?" the Spirit of the Visual Aspect asks him back.

"Look what I'm pointing at! That dude just saw us, didn't he?"

"I don't know," the Spirit of Salt says.

"Ehh not so sure about that," the Spirit of Aroma joins in. *Sniff sniff*

"Nah I'm sure I saw him looking at us just now," he Spirit of Spice continues as he moves to float in front of him. "I mean as soon as I did, he turned-- see! He acts like he doesn't see me, but the scared look on his face says enough!"

Zane's eyes grow big for a moment in fright.

"There, he definitely just responded to what I said!"

Zane tries to pull a poker face, with his head down, as he walks over towards the cutting table to cut vegetables.

"But how?" the Spirit of Texture continues to ask. "We're inside the Infinite Cuisine Realm, there shouldn't be any way for him to see or hear us."

Zane gets electrified at the words "Infinite Cuisine Realm".

"See? He responded again!" the Spirit of Spice immediately remarks, fixing his attention on him relentlessly.

"You're right. We saw it this time," the Spirit of Aroma replies as they're all looking at Zane in harmony now. He slowly turns around at looks at them with an almost sorry face.

"So maybe he *is* the *chosen one* after all," the Spirit of Salt says, at which they all "hmmm" in one accord, the Spirit of Aroma sniffing afterwards.

"... or he's just somehow able to sense us," the Spirit of Spice all of a sudden says, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

"Have you forgotten already that you're the one who's been making a whole scene of him just now?" the Spirit of Aroma shouts. The spirits start to argue again and then all of a sudden the chef slaps Zane on his head and asks what he's all spacing out for. Zane continues his job, ignoring the spirits for the rest of the day.

Then Zane gets home, showers & eats, and finally gets his nighttime rest...

A few seconds after he's fallen asleep, a red arm appears out of thin air and throws black powder in his face. Zane sneezes and chokes as he wakes up, aggressively as if he already understands what's going on.

"Motherfucker!"

"Mothgic powder!" the Spirit of Spice replies with a nice fairy smile on his cheeky face.

"Are you still bothering me?!"

"Well YOU seemed pretty INTERESTED earlier TODAY!" the spirit replies, now angry on his turn.

"Interested in you almost killing me with your *freaky* grounded pepper you mean?! *Sneezes*"

"Oh, right, sorry about that."

"Well if you're so sorry, ahem, I'm trying to sleep! Working in a kitchen is pretty tiring, you know. I need my rest!"

The spirit slowly puts some powdered spice on his finger under his nose.

Zane makes a very freaked face for a couple of seconds and finally shouts at him: "What the fuck are you doing?!"

"Cloves. They make you sleepy and promise you good luck."

"I don't *yawn* need any of that..."

"Oh, alright. Good night."

Zane turns around in his bed and closes his eyes, after a few seconds gradually making a bothered expression, and then finally shouts: "I know you're still there!"

"But I made sure not to make a sound?"

"I can feel your eyes burning down my neck!"

"Okay, okay, I'll go, I'll go `*poof*`"

"Ugh..." Zane sighs before finally falling asleep.

The next morning he's standing in his home kitchen, preparing breakfast for himself. "That was definitely not a dream..." he thinks. "Though a strange one it certainly would've been...".

"Psst"

Zane side-eyes halfway and then immediately averts his gaze.

"I saw you respond, you can hear me."

"What do you even want from me?!" Zane snaps, not looking into the direction of the Spice Spirit.

"Oh, nothing in particular. I'm just saying that, rather than using that old milk over there, why don't you take a look in this fridge..."

Zane turns around and to his surprise sees an overlapping dimension with multiple fridges in front of him.

"Ah, you don't know which fridge I was referring to, do you?"

"What's... this?"

"A misrepresentative image of the Omni Cuisine Kitchen Realm."

"Misrepresentative?"

"What you see here is not really reflective to its name. See, once you step inside this Kitchen, you are able to get anything you want, at all! Uhh ingredients I mean."

"Anything I want, at all-- Erm, any ingredients I want?"

"Any! Ah, but it is best if you see it for yourself, of course."

Zane does a few steps forward, but as he stands on the edge of entering the realm, he suddenly asks: "Wait, this doesn't explain what happens once I get inside or what you even want from me to begin with."

"Listen..." the spirit begins, now irritated again.

"Sorry, are you angry with me right now? How's that reasonable, again??"

"I was just going to say, look, I didn't choose you or any of this, okay? Since you are able to see us, that must mean you are the chosen one."

"Yea, the what now??"

"ACH!-- don't ask me, okay?! I think it's stupid anyways..."

"If it's so stupid, then why bother me so much about it?"

"I meant to say the idea of the "chosen one", but not the cause. See, we are the Spirits of Cuisine. We have inspired food across the world for centuries, aeons; but now that everything's fast food and commerical customer service and genetically modified and meshed together with chemicals for preservance and fast lifes with barely any free time and stuff..." the Spirit says, finishing with disgust in his voice and an agonising face: "And they don't even properly spice it anymore!..."

"Well, shiver me timbers..."

"That's what I mean, even the pirates cooked better food!"

`*TRRRRRINNNGGGG*` the sound of Zane's alarm goes off.

"Fuck."

Zane heads out without saying any further word.

Once at work, it appears that Zane has forgotten about the spirit already. At least, that's the face he's trying to make. Once he picks a tomato to cut, the chef slaps him on the hand and gives him a stern warning.

"Don't pick that one,-- what's WRONG with you?!"

"Well..."

"Are we a star restaurant or are we not?!"

"I didn't see anything wrong with this tomato..."

"Ah, does that have something to do with your weary eyes perhaps? Tell me, did you sleep?"

"8 hours, as I always make sure I get."

"Ah, I see, so you dreamed you had 8 hours of sleep!"

"No--"

"Roland, sir, I can see you are still dreaming by looking at your eyes. Need to take the rest of the day off, hmm?"

"You ask your best cook if he needs to take the rest of the day off?" he asks, tilting his head at him nonchalantly.

"If you're gonna claim to be the best here, then perhaps it's time to act like it, ehh?"

The chef walks away and Zane inspects his tomato.

"Psst"

Zane side-eyes into the direction and coincidentally makes eye-contact with the Spirit of Spice, who nonchalantly points with his finger to a basket with tomatoes in the hidden realm.

Zane smiles and decides to walk inside, taking the first real step into his destined, fateful journey...

"Now I understand why you were still dreaming," the chef says to Zane at the end of the day with a stern pokerface. "A true master chef can taste and inspect what he cooks in his dream."

At those big and precious words, master chef, Zane's eyes light up so much that it's as if he can see the reflection in the chef's eyes, who gives him a handshake before closure, something which too meant as much as a king himself bowing down in veneration before him. Soon after the restaurant got rewarded with a second star, and when they were hoping to be aiming for their third in their early stage after having received their second star, the most unfortunate event happened for them, that is the announcal of Zane's resignation as he had passed the certification program of a master chef and decided to open a restaurant of his own, naming it Roland's Beacon. The restaurant grew quickly, along with his name that was famous enough to carry him this far so fast in the first place. Or well, in the second as it's foremostely the blessing the Spirits of Cuisine had promised him.

One of the things by which the people in his community would identify him was by their saying that they had "never seen a master chef cook". Truly he was a cook at heart, something the world could never claim from him, and wasn't materialistic as such. At least that was his own perception, and that of the people, and that of the Spirits of Cuisine themselves since he was after all according to them their "chosen one". Well, none, not even himself, had seen the extend of his "chosen oneness" just yet. That's what he decided to prove by putting a very special ingredient in his food: the very expensive pule cheese.' For a special customer, a friend of his named Jaspin, for a special low price. Too low to be possibly sold.

"Wow, this *Beacardie* {word joke} is really good! What kind of cheese is this?"

"Ah, but that's a secret!"

"What?"

"It's pule cheese," Zane whispers.

"Pule cheese?"

"A cheese from the Balkans, 60% donkey and 40% goat milk," Zane responds with a happy face, not making eye contact whatsoever.

"Yeah I'm looking it up..." Jaspin says to his surprise. "Woah, that's pretty expensive. How did you--"

"Heh?"

"Hmm?"

"Oh!--" Zane says, suddenly aware of the other customers and his employees in the restaurant.

"Hmm?"

Zane makes 'stop' body signs.

"Zane, bro-- `*sighs*` nevermind... No, actually--"

"I will explain later, okay?"

"Nevermind."

"Bon appetit!"

Zane leaves his friend and resumes his work, not noticing the gaze from a curious customer clad in black like an incognito, who remains to burn his neck with his eyes.

Zane is back in the kitchen and checks on his employees.

"Hooow are you all doing, my fine lads and ladies, brothers and sisters?"

"Fine", "good", etc are the various responses.

"That is good to hear! I am so happy that you're all here!..."

Zane taps the only employee with a beard net, someone who looks like he could be either Levantine or North African - as he's the only one with a beard -, on his shoulder to take his tomato from him.

"..." Beardnet stares at Zane with a slightly nervous look in anticipation.

"Know what's the problem with this tomato?" Zane asks.

Beardnet shrugs.

"From a first glance it may *look* right, but it's too hard, so obviously it hasn't ripened enough. Remember, pick one that gives a gentle give when pressed."

"..." Beardman complies and picks a different one, which Zane quickly inspects and returns to him within a second.

Hidden behind some furniture, the Spirit of Texture watches with a proud face.

"I guess that *you* don't have to teach him anything," the Spirit of Spice says to him.

"None of us has taught him yet, no? He's talented and it seems like he can handle it by himself. Well, I guess there is no worry since he'll always be too interesting for us to *not* watch."

"Yeah you're right about that, he is interesting. How long do you think until he makes it big? And yes he has been *taught* before, by the Spirit of Aroma, remember?"

"That's because he was so sick that he couldn't even smell," the Spirit of Salt mentions.

"That is no excuse. A *master* chef, after all, should have developed keen senses that outclass even a dog's," the Spirit of Aroma strictly asserts.

"But he was at home, cooking only for himself..." the Spirit of the Visual Aspect then responds.

"That is still no excuse! A *master chef* should always be capable, or they aren't *qualified* enough!"

The other spirits then burst out in laughter together.

"Now to answer your question," the Spirit of Spice says to continue his conversation with Texture Spirit. "He's talented when it comes to food, but what kind of *man* he'll be we have yet to see."

"Exactly!" Aroma Spirit butts in.

"Yeah I can't see the future either," Texture Spirit says as he touches his sunglasses. "But he's the Chosen One for a reason.--"

"*IF* he is the Chosen One.--"

"Oh come on, it isn't obvious after all this time? And of course he's talented, that's part of it!"

"Hey, take of your sunnies," Spice Spirit says.

"Why `*takes them off*`, you want to call me blind--"

BOOM! Spice Spirit punches him straight in the face with powdered pepper on his fist. "Don't call *us* blind when you're the one with photophobia!"

"Photophobia, why?" Salt Spirit asks.

"He's just dying for a fight, that's why his excuse is so poor," Aroma Spirit answers with a sniff.

"And a fight he can get!" Texture Spirit responds as he takes out a mortar which he holds in one hand and a pestle in the other. "I'm gonna mash and grind you up real good this time!"

"And I'm gonna care for *your* texture by flaming you just right!" Spice Spirit responds as he takes out a skewer and toastie maker.

"Maybe I should take my pastry bowl and mixer to fix your brains instead. After all, I can't possibly *mix them up* further just like you're mixing your insults and *equipment* up, you madman!"

"You're both madmen!" Aroma Spirit butts in again.

"And maybe I should see what to spice you up with this time, as neither your insults or the sight of your mug ever taste any better!"

"You will taste my pestle between your teeth that are spread like fire, or *spice* in your case!"

Boom, clatter, clunk, etc.

"I swear I'm going to pick a rotten tomato for sure..." Zane cogitates. "these monkeys keep distracting me, then want to tell me to stay focussed!"

"Another *Beacardie*, coming up!" a waitress with nerdy glasses says, who is the single French employee in the restaurant. "Beacardie, Zanoise, Rolandille, Biérdnattóin... I swear, the devil came up with those dishes!" she cogitates with great anger.

Beardnet side-eyes her distrustfully. "Somehow... I don't know why, but I feel like I've just been insulted!"

"Coming up?" Zane cogitates on his turn. "And to think that I said I was so happy with you all just a minute ago... Anyway, another Beacardie? I didn't expect it would become this popular, or not this soon at least..."

"Here is your *Beacardie*," French Glasses smiles with a glint of abhorrence in her voice. "*Voila*, and *bon appetit*!--"

"*Merci*," the man says before she can even leave, the same man as before, the incognito-clad with a black chapeau borsalino and tinted glasses: "This cheese in particular tastes amazing. A bit nostalgic too, or familiar I should say maybe..." his pupils glint with ember from under his shades as he tilts his head a bit lower to make eye-contact. "Does it happen to be pule cheese?"