The Cute Little Cook (Part 2) “He can’t eat what others make…
Perhaps it was my act of keeping her that day that made her misunderstand something, and the new chef began to treat my kitchen as her own.
Although she seemed stubborn and naive, she actually dictated new menus and chef schedules, and tried to gradually incorporate her own cooking into my three meals a day.
The chef asked me what I was going to do and I signaled him to just be patient.
This strange woman has not been exposed yet.
She cooks well, especially the millet, pumpkin and red dates porridge.
However, no matter how delicious the porridge is, you will get tired of it after drinking it for a long time. Moreover, for some reason, this woman has always stubbornly believed that I have stomach problems. Not only are the dishes she cooks bland, but she also asks other chefs in the kitchen to cook light dishes as well, which greatly affects my three meals a day experience.
I have never eaten the same thing for so long as I can remember.
It just so happened that my vacation was over and I was planning to go back to work.
I am picky about food, so the old house has more than 20 top chefs preparing meals for me, and the company also hired eight chefs to serve me exclusively.
If you come to work in the company, you won’t have to eat the meals she cooks.
After lunch, when I returned to the office, the tea was already on the table and the assistant handed me a document.
I looked through the files and found new news about the four major families.
The Nangong and Beiming families, which were originally preparing to form an alliance, broke up again, but the Beiming and Dongfang families became closer.
Weird dynamics.
I couldn't see the logic in this, so I asked my assistant to follow up.
At this time, the assistant's work phone rang. He walked to the corner and answered it. After a moment, he said to me, "President, someone wants to come into the company. He says he is your chef."
I immediately thought of the strange cook.
"Let her come up."
The assistant responded, then opened his laptop, called up the surveillance footage, and placed it in front of me.
Today the cook was wearing a goose yellow dress and light makeup.
She said to the receptionist, "I want to see the president."
The receptionist smiled gently and asked, "Do you have a reservation?"
She lifted the lunch box in her hand, her eyes wandered for a moment, and her ears turned red. "I'll bring him food."
Her gesture was enough to cause misunderstanding, but she didn't mention that she was just the cook in my family.
"Sorry ma'am, you need an appointment to see the president."
She frowned, "I'll just put the food down and leave."
The receptionist has become accustomed to seeing people of unknown origin over the years she has been in the company, and her smile is so steady that it seems as if she has been personally trained by the assistant.
"Sorry ma'am, we only accept guests who have made reservations in advance. You can call the president."
Of course she didn't have my number.
She bit her lower lip and begged, "Could you please call the president? If I can't deliver food, he will definitely starve himself again."
The receptionist was stunned and looked suspicious.
I guess she couldn't understand why I would wait for takeout while starving, and would rather starve to the point of stomachache than let the chef deliver the food.
Employees passing by also looked over curiously, and someone muttered, "We have a cafeteria in our company."
The cook was not embarrassed at all and added to the front desk, "He can't eat what others cook."
Several employees looked at each other.
The company cafeteria is subsidized. Not only is the chef selected by me personally, but the price is also very low, which is considered as the company's employee welfare. Almost all employees of the company go to the cafeteria for three meals a day. Therefore, I attach great importance to the food in the cafeteria. From time to time, I will pick a time to ask my assistant to go to the cafeteria to get food and bring it to the office for me to taste it myself.
Many employees have seen it.
Now she actually says that I can’t get used to food cooked by others.
Not only did the employees not understand, I didn’t understand either.
There was a knock on the door, and the assistant opened it, revealing the cook.
"Sir, you may not be used to eating outside. I will deliver the food."
She walked to the desk with familiarity and placed the lunch box in front of me.
Before I could say anything, she saw the tea on my table, snatched the cup angrily, and poured the tea into the trash can nearby.
"Sir, I've told you many times! If you have a bad stomach, don't drink stimulants like tea and coffee on an empty stomach."
I watched helplessly as the top-quality Dahongpao that had just passed through the first round of water was dumped into the trash can.
I looked at her with gloomy eyes. She didn't pay any attention and just kept talking to herself. Although I didn't get a response, she was still talking lively and opened her lunch box while talking.
I looked at the soup and my brows jumped. The assistant quickly collected the documents that were almost splashed.
The dishes were laid out one by one. Finally, she placed the stomach-nourishing porridge in front of me and said with a smile, "Eat quickly. Irregular eating is bad for your stomach. Don't ruin your body next time."
I frowned and looked at her.
I don’t know what she was thinking about, her cheeks turned red, she turned her head away, and an expression of “I understand~” appeared on her face.
...What do you understand?
I just wanted to ask her why she was so sure that I had stomach problems.
I looked down at the food.
To be fair, the cook’s cooking skills are good, and her methods of storing and transporting food are also acceptable, but no matter what, it can’t compare to freshly made, hot meals.
Having just had a full meal, I have no appetite for these.
"You go back first."
She put her hands on her hips, her cheeks puffed up, and if you didn't listen to what she was saying, she would look pretty and cute.
"No! I want to watch you finish eating! If you work so hard and don't pay attention to your body, your body will be ruined sooner or later."
My temples were pounding. “You really care about me.”
The cook was stunned and her face turned red. She was completely different from the person who boldly started the company before.
She stamped her feet lightly and walked away in a hurry.
...Is it an illusion?
Why do I feel like she deliberately lifted her hair to reveal her red ears?
The assistant put away the lunch box.
I really don't want to eat these tasteless meals. At the same time, after some investigation, I found that the cook did not carry any supernatural things such as systems. She was just a person who wanted to attract my attention through small tricks.
In that case, there is no need to continue to accommodate her taste, and the kitchen schedule can be changed back.
I'll let the housekeeper handle it.
As I expected, when I returned to the village, I saw her standing in front of the gate with her eyes swollen and red, like a rabbit.
"Sir! They want to change the stomach-nourishing diet I specially planned for you back to its previous state. They are going to make pickled fish tonight! Your stomach is not well yet and you cannot eat spicy food. How can they do this!"
She looked worried and angry, as if she was really worried about my health.
Unfortunately, I don’t have stomach problems. When I heard this, my attention was only focused on the sauerkraut fish tonight.
As I walked into the manor, I said, "I arranged this."
She was stunned and stopped in front of me.
"You arranged this?"
"right."
Laicai and Bizai came towards me like two balls of fur and snuggled up at my feet. I picked up the dogs.
The puppies have gained weight and now it’s a bit difficult for me to hold two of them at the same time.
She looked at me blankly and asked, "Why?"
"I'm tired of eating."
Her eyes became even redder, and there were sparkling lights in them, as if tears were about to fall.
"You are insulting me! Not only are you insulting me, you are also insulting my dreams!"
I couldn't communicate with her normally, so I pinched the pads of my lucky meat and reminded her, "I have been eating millet for twenty days, pumpkin for nineteen days, and red dates for eighteen days."
Her tears finally fell, and she shook her head and said, "I thought you were different, but I didn't expect you didn't understand me either. I was wrong about you!"
With red eyes, she wiped her cheeks hard with her sleeves and ran out of the manor.
“I don’t cook for people who don’t understand!”
But for some reason, her running speed became slower and slower, from running to walking, and from walking to moving, and when she reached the gate of the manor, she was almost motionless.
I ignored her and carried the dog to the living room.
The moment the housekeeper closed the door, I happened to turn around and saw a flash of disbelief on the cook's face.
A thought suddenly flashed through my mind - did she think that I would keep her at the last minute?
…
In the following days, the housekeeper said that the cook did not go far outside the manor, and was sneaky. Every time she was outside the manor, it was dinner time.
An unbelievable guess arose in my mind, so I went out to eat at noon that day and chose a table next to the giant floor-to-ceiling window.
After the food was served, a vague gaze came at me from outside the window.
I didn't look back and finished my lunch slowly.
After the meal, the housekeeper said that she never wandered around the manor again.
I pressed the solar plexus.
Could it be that she really thinks that I am not used to the food cooked by others and will have difficulty swallowing it without her, so she just needs to wait outside the manor, and when I think of her repeatedly, I will naturally invite her back?
I feel like the whole thing is baffling.
＊＊＊
The restaurant under my name has a competitor, and it has always been defeated by my restaurant in previous competitions.
During this period, the rival restaurant launched many new products, most of which were porridge. These porridges were extremely delicious, which greatly increased the rival restaurant's customer flow.
So I went there.
After we sat down, when the chef was introducing the dishes to the guests, I saw the cook again.
This time, the cook changed her previous cute and lovely appearance, and a hint of arrogance appeared on her face. Only occasionally, her eyes would fall on me, with a bit of resentment that she wanted to say something but couldn't, which attracted the other chefs around her to look at me frequently, and there was even a tall chef who looked angry at me.
I ignored all that and just picked up the porridge - it was the familiar millet, red dates and pumpkin porridge.
I had eaten too much before and had no appetite, so I took a sip and put it down, then tried a few other dishes.
The taste is good, but it is still far from the same as my restaurant.
I put down my chopsticks and the cook clenched her fists slightly.
I didn't care about her.
When I was about to leave, she stopped me.
In order to match her cold and arrogant temperament, she put on a villainous makeup, with slanted eyeliner and flaming red lips, very beautiful.
But I don’t understand why she can cook with full makeup on and her makeup doesn’t look smudged.
…Wait, she wears a mask when she cooks, right?
She didn't notice the turmoil in my heart. She handed me the strawberry pudding in her hand and apologized, "I was too extreme before. I apologize for my inappropriate behavior before. Please accept this pudding. This is a new one I made. I thought you might like it."
She looked at me expectantly.
The light pink strawberry pudding was served in a specially designed white porcelain flat-bottomed wide-mouthed goblet, drizzled with pink strawberry jam and decorated with strawberries cut into the shape of roses. The jam must have been specially prepared and did not smell overly sweet, but rather refreshing.
The tall chef said sarcastically, "So this is the former employer who didn't understand food that you mentioned - you are just too good-tempered! He even specially developed a new dessert as a thank-you gift. It was really a bargain for him. He was the first to taste our new pudding that will be launched soon."
The cook's face flushed again, but she didn't avoid looking away this time. "I was wrong last time. I did something wrong."
I had no plans to try it originally, but when I heard him say it was a new product for next month, I wanted to try it in advance.
I scooped a spoonful, but before I brought it to my mouth, I paused.
At the same time, the assistant's hand gently pressed on my wrist.
His face was unusually serious, "Boss, don't eat it. There's something wrong with the pudding."
Yes, there is something wrong with the pudding, I smell the smell of addictive drugs.
There is something added here.
"Call the police."
Everyone was a little confused when they heard the word "call the police". The rival restaurant owner threw away his previous reserved attitude and shouted angrily, "What are you doing! Even if your company is big and powerful, you can't call the police to slander our products!"
I said coldly, "Is it considered slander to add addictive drugs to desserts?"
The cook's face turned pale instantly.
The police arrived as quickly as usual. The cook and strawberry pudding were put into the police car together. Not long after, I learned that the cook had been sentenced.
The police said that the cook wanted to see me, and I went there out of curiosity.
She looked at me through the glass, looking like she was about to cry.
I didn't have the heart to be gentle with her, so I interrupted her brewing emotions and asked, "I've been curious about something for a long time - you said that your cooking skills are inherited from your family and you have been in the kitchen for many years, so why don't you have any calluses on your hands? They don't look like the hands of a chef at all?"
Her face flushed as she defended herself, "I just take good care of myself. Do you think I'm lying and incompetent just because my hands look so beautiful? But you've had my porridge, haven't you? You like it very much! Everything I do is for your own good. If you don't eat the right food, your stomach will hurt!"
I stared at her, raising my eyebrows slightly.
"There is something I have been curious about for a long time - I have more than 20 chefs in my kitchen who tailor-make three meals for me, and my family doctor gives me regular physical examinations and is on call at any time. You know all this."
"So - why do you insist that I have a stomach problem?"
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