I Opened a Café in Another World.

Volume 1, Chapter 26: I compete.

“Ahem. Please make something with this fish.”

The head chef and I were to compete with our skills, all according to my plan. If nothing had happened, Zeke and I would have continued to be treated as thin air. But then we couldn’t answer Mister Royce’s expectations. After all, the goal was the international royal conference. It would be impossible for the two of us to cook all the food. No matter what, I had to have these chefs recognize my skill and obtain their cooperation.

The chef and I stood with the kitchen between us. The sous chef who spoke up began to explain the rules of the competition.

The fish looked like a sea bream. Its eyes were clear, so it was quite fresh. I had never eaten this fish, so I didn’t know what it tasted like. Hmm, what should I make?

I glanced at the head chef across from me, who smirked, brimming with confidence. He saw my glance and snorted.

Oh, you little…no matter how mild-mannered I am, even that pisses me off. I’ll definitely make you cry!

I feigned serenity and smiled warmly at the head chef.

The head chef put the fish on a cutting board and stuck in his kitchen knife. He filleted the fish and peeled off the skin in an instant. I admired his dexterity with a knife and also began preparing my fish.

In the end, I decided to make fish ball soup. While I was nowhere as fast as the head chef, I filleted my fish with no problem.

“Ha!”

The head chef laughed again. I felt frustrated, but I ignored him and continued. I put water in a pot along with the fish head, vegetables that looked like ginger, onions and cabbage and turned on the stove. I was going to make fish-based dashi from the head. The vegetables were for taking out the fishy taste and adding depth to the flavor.

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The chefs watching me all tilted their heads in confusion. I see, soup stock and dashi don’t exist in this world…even though dashi is the foundation of cooking.

I felt discouraged by the differences in cooking from my previous world, but I moved back to the cutting board. I diced the fish fillet into small pieces and beat it with the kitchen knife again and again. The kitchen was filled with the sound of my kitchen knife hitting the cutting board. Although the other chefs stared at me incredulously, I could no longer feel their eyes on me.

I’m pretty sure that there are no paste products in this world. I continued to beat the meat, reflecting on how amazing Japanese paste products were. I would have liked a mortar so I could grind it, but this was an away game. No way about it. It was a little chunky, but I moved the fish paste to a bowl.

I added some finely chopped vegetables in, with egg whites and a bit of flour for binding, seasoned with salt and pepper and began to knead the mixture. When it began to stick together, I placed it in the fridge and went back to the pot.

I skimmed off the scum with a ladle and moved the pot to a low heat burner. This would still take a while, so I left it to stew.

I looked at the head chef while I cleaned the cookware I used. The fillets were covered in flour and laid on a tray. Is he frying it? Or sauté, perhaps? I thought, as the head chef took out a frying pan and poured in some oil. A bit late for an explanation, but this world also has oil, most commonly extracted from the olive-like lintz fruit. The flavor is almost identical to olive oil, and it is used in various areas like beauty and health care, not just cooking.

Somehow, the chef poured in a weird amount of oil. It wasn’t enough for frying, but too much for sautéing. Was he going to shallow fry it? I continued observing, and the head chef put the fish on the frying pan without any hesitation. The hot oil sizzled, and the flour quickly turned a golden brown. Like the Claude kitchen, this kitchen’s burners only had one heat setting.

The fish was cooked at high heat. In a few seconds, the fish’s color completely changed and the head chef flipped it, shallow frying it at high heat. Then he picked it up with a spatula and moved it to a plate.

There were so many things I wanted to point out that I was twitching. From the amount of oil, the heat setting, the time on the pan, to plating without draining the oil. The fish shimmered with oil, neither fried nor sautéed, and sat resting on the plate with a puddle of oil seeping out under it.

…What a dish that inspired indigestion…

In my previous world, olive oil contained more oleic acid than salad oil, and as such was lauded as being healthier. According to Basil, even though the name was different, a lintz was basically the same as an olive with the same nutrition content. Therefore, it was safe to believe that lintz oil also contained oleic acid.

However! All things in moderation, even if they are healthy. It is bad to have too much oil, which has a high amount of calories. Disappointed by the food with an unpredictable taste, I went back to my own dish.

I turned off the heat under the pot and took out the ingredients with a strainer, then moved the pot of soup to a medium heat burner. I tried a bit of the soup. Mm, I made good dashi, the ginger was a wonderful highlight. I put in some quarter-sliced carrot-like vegetables and thinly sliced shiitake-like mushrooms and brought the soup to a boil.

Finally, I took the fish balls out of the fridge. I took a handful with my left hand and squeezed bite-sized pieces out between my index and thumb into the soup.

The chefs crowded around me, brought over by the enticing aroma of fish and ginger.

I seasoned with salt and pepper, then added a pinch of sugar to bring out the flavor. To be honest, I would have liked soy sauce or a miso base, but there was no way that would exist in this kitchen, and the batch that I made still needed a few more months.

After taste testing, I turned off the heat and plated the soup with a slightly deeper soup dish.

“Are both of you finished?”

The sous chef who had been standing between the head chef and I asked, and we nodded.

“Then how about you eat each other’s food? I’m sure you know what your own food tastes like.”

What! I have to eat that thing that’s drowning in oil!?

“Yes, why not?”

For some reason, the head chef agreed nonchalantly. I don’t think I have a choice…

“…I understand.”

I really didn’t want to, but I nodded. The sous chef placed the head chef’s oily cuisine in front of me, and my soup in front of him.

I gulped and cut through the head chef’s food with a knife. Although some time had passed, it was fried at a high temperature so the outside was still crunchy. However, when I raised the bite-sized piece with a fork, I was shocked to see more oil dripping from the bottom of the piece.

I faced the head chef and we took a bite at the same time. What will be, will be, I thought, and the instant it went in, I covered my mouth with my hand. I forced it down, but I couldn’t help but say,

“…disgusting.”

“…delicious.”

The head chef murmured at the same time. The antonyms surprised the head chef, sous chefs, the chefs around us and me.

Only Zeke smiled, satisfied with the conclusion.