Chapter 15 #2
The answer comes to her as she sips yet another boba milk tea from the Taiwanese restaurant on Cowley Road, which has become her favorite haunt now that her friends have all become fully absorbed in their tasks.
The next day, she hurries into Chef Clarke’s office beaming with excitement.
“Orange peel and brown sugar syrup. The sweetness will be very subtle, more aroma than actual taste. It go perfectly well with the savory spiced brine.”
“Brown sugar syrup?” Chef Clarke says with a frown.
“You know, like the one we are using in boba milk tea.”
“Ah.” Chef Clarke frowns for a while, then he raises his eyebrows. “Well, maybe. Yes, I can see that working. And how will you be cooking it?”
“So after I dry-age it with the orange peel and brown sugar syrup, I will do it in a confit style, cook it in its own fat. That way the meat becomes so tender and falling off the bone.”
Chef Clarke nods. “That sounds good to me. Good work, Mebel. I will arrange for some duck to be delivered here, and you can start practicing once it arrives.”
Mebel can’t remember the last time she felt so proud of herself.
She walks all the way back to her room with a huge smile, and once inside, she notices that she hasn’t even put her makeup on today.
She looks a frightful mess, but for once, she doesn’t care.
She’s designed her own dish all by herself, and none of this process involved her blow-drying her hair in a meticulous fashion.
There’s something so incredibly satisfying about that knowledge.
Alain, who has returned from London, takes her out that night, and listens with a look of quiet amusement on his face as she walks him through her duck dish.
“I like the sound of this dish,” he says.
“You do?” Mebel says, her eyes lighting up.
Then she stops herself. Of course he would say that he likes the sound of it.
He’s her—well, not boyfriend, it seems ridiculous to refer to someone as one’s “boyfriend” when one is in her sixties.
Goodness, what is he? Her lover? Her paramour?
Mebel bats the question away. Doesn’t matter.
What matters right now is the fact that he is kind of obliged to like her dish because they are sleeping with each other.
The thought makes Mebel uneasy. Is she cheating on this competition because she’s sleeping with Alain?
“Is it okay that we are talking about this? I don’t want to cheat the competition and win just because you have the sex with me.”
Alain’s eyes dance with laughter. “Do you think that’s what I’d do? Have you win the competition and start working at my highest-rated restaurant just because we are lovers?”
Mebel blushes at the word “lovers” coming out of Alain’s mouth. Despite the intimacy of their relationship, she still hasn’t quite come to terms with the fact that she is the sort of woman to have a “lover.” “I don’t know. Men always think with their penises, not their brains.”
“Well, that’s not incorrect. But, no, Mebel, to put your mind at ease, you are not behaving in an unethical way, and I can guarantee that, because I won’t be the one judging the competition. The students at Pemberton College will cast a vote for the best dish at the end of the meal.”
“Ah.” Mebel sags with relief. “I am glad.”
“Good, now let’s enjoy—”
“But is it cheating because I discuss my dish with you and you give me advice when you are such famous chef?”
Alain puts down his fork and knife and regards Mebel closely.
“Is it cheating? No, I don’t think so. The other students are free to approach me or Chef Clarke for our input.
And I certainly won’t be giving you any information that I wouldn’t tell your classmates if they asked.
Now, before you ask another question, let me ask one of my own: Why do you care so much if it’s ethical or not?
The culinary industry is a cutthroat one.
Backstabbing happens every day, especially when the stakes are as high as this. ”
“I know,” Mebel sighs. “I don’t like this backstabbing thing. My friends and I have good relationship, and then this competition come along and ruin everything. They need this prize badly, some of them. More badly than me.”
“Not really,” Alain says. “Once they graduate from the program, they’ll be snapped up by restaurants all over the country, just like that. They don’t have to work at Canard et Vin. They want to, but that is a choice. Just like you have a choice to do the best you can for this banquet.”
“I see,” Mebel says, nodding slowly, trying to parse through his words.
Alain has a tendency to speak softly and fast, and sometimes Mebel has trouble understanding him.
Like now, for example. All she got from his speech is that nobody needs to work at Canard et Vin, which seemed extremely obvious to her, but she has since begun to understand isn’t true for most of her classmates.
“You need to make a decision for yourself, Mebel,” Alain says. “I see the way you have been working so hard on your dish. It’s not the way someone who only wants to be a housewife would work. You are applying yourself very hard. Are you sure you are only here to win back your husband?”
“Yes, of course,” Mebel says, irritated by the question.
Why do people keep asking her this question?
They simply don’t understand what is at stake for her back in Jakarta.
It isn’t just about losing Henk, it’s about losing her entire life, her social circle, her home, her way of being.
She can’t imagine being invited to any meals or events if she were to be a divorcée.
Society would slice her out neatly, and she would be forgotten in no time.
And here Alain thinks she would give all of that up just because, what, she’s into her duck course?
Fortunately for Alain, the sex later that night more than makes up for the dicey dinnertime conversation.
Mebel is beginning to see the value in having lovers.
She can’t see a future with Alain, a man who is married, who thinks nothing of having multiple lovers, but she enjoys his company very much, which would’ve confused Mebel the CHIP.
But Mebel the worldly culinary school student is adept at compartmentalizing parts of her life.
It is as though she has split into two different selves.
Mebel the CHIP would never have a meal alone without a phone to keep herself company.
Mebel the worldly culinary school student not only is happy to have meals alone, but sometimes even prefers it, sitting there slowly eating with only her thoughts for company.
Mebel the CHIP is a one-man gal, devoting her entire life to her husband.
Mebel the worldly culinary school student is here to have fun before she returns to the company of her husband.
Mebel the CHIP spends her days working on making herself look fabulous, going for regular facials and having all sorts of chemicals injected into her face to boost collagen production.
When she isn’t working on keeping her face looking as youthful as possible, she is shopping to make sure her outfits are as flattering as possible.
Mebel the worldly culinary school student looks, quite frankly, like shit. She spends her days perspiring heavily in the kitchen, her hair trapped in an unflattering hair net. For once, the way Mebel looks isn’t the most important thing about her.
Despite the joy that comes with working hard in culinary school, Mebel’s life is far from perfect.
As they get nearer to the banquet, the tension among the students grows thicker, until it lies heavy in the air like a poison cloud.
The classes are no longer an easygoing camaraderie.
Mebel longs for the days when Adam would turn around and give Mebel a cheeky wink in the middle of class or when Bella would exchange an eye roll with her at Bruce’s antics.
They still go out for meals sometimes, but the meals are a far cry from what they used to be.
All Adam, Bruce, and Bella want to do is discuss what they think the other groups are cooking for the banquet.
Bruce in particular is in a bad mood because, apparently, he and his partner, Chris, are in a disagreement over their dish, but of course he is unwilling to talk about it.
“Did you hear what Kate and Matt are making?” Bella says one evening.
They all look at her in anticipation.
“Miso-smoked cod accompanied with blanched asparagus and shiitake mushrooms.”
Bruce’s mouth falls open. “She can’t do that.”
“Why not?” Mebel says, feeling like she’s missed something.
“Because Chris and I are using shiitake mushrooms in our dish. Are you sure about this?” he says to Bella.
Bella nods. “I overheard her talking to Chef Clarke about it.”
“I’m sure is okay if she does mushrooms too, so what?” Mebel says.
They all stare at her like she’s just said the dumbest thing in the world.
“So what?” Adam echoes. “You can’t have two courses with shiitake mushrooms in them.”
“Why not?”
“For fuck’s sake,” Bruce says, standing up so abruptly that his chair screeches across the floor. “I need to talk to Chris. We’re going to have to scrap our entire dish and start over.” He strides off, tapping on his phone furiously.
“We can’t have the same ingredients in our dish, Mebel,” Adam says. “It’s tiresome on the palate, and given Bruce has the sixth course and Kate and Matt have the third course, it’ll look like Bruce and Chris copied them.”
“Ah.” Mebel chews her pasta slowly, considering what Adam just told her. It makes sense, she supposes, though she still thinks they’re all overreacting a little.
“Especially when it’s something as distinctive in flavor as shiitake mushrooms,” Bella says. “Can you imagine having two shiitake dishes in the menu? Awful.”
Mebel doesn’t see the big deal in having two shiitake dishes in a menu, but she wisely decides to keep her mouth shut.