Chapter 90
Chapter 90. There Has Never Been a Taste Like This (1)
The day of the competition's main round.
The 1st Royal Culinary Competition was held in the indoor banquet hall of Whitehall's South Wing.
Perhaps because it was a competition hosted by the royal family in name, even if it was a culinary contest?
Far more spectators had gathered than anticipated.
Temporary seating had been set up for the audience.
Jurgen, suppressing his presence and seated in the most out-of-the-way corner of it all, looked over the assembled faces.
'The audience quality isn't bad at all.'
Chief Secretary Arthur of the Queen, members of the House of Nobles, senior officials, noble ladies of distinguished families, and even the ambassador of the Bellua Republic were present.
A quality audience was welcome.
Would the Culinary Revolution not advance by one step simply from having influential figures who held sway in their respective fields witness a 'culinary competition'?
The finalists, on the other hand, were fewer than the scheduled twelve.
A majority of five had withdrawn, leaving only seven people standing before the cooking tables — Penelope included.
"Huuu…… huuu……"
Penelope, dressed in a white chef's uniform, was taking deep breaths — she seemed nervous.
From the way her eyes were moving busily, she was probably looking for Jurgen, but it wouldn't be easy.
He had intentionally suppressed his presence to the greatest extent possible.
Waiting for the competition to begin, Jurgen patted his inner pocket with satisfaction.
"Hmm."
These past three days in the Capital.
Two harvests that were not bad at all.
The first — the cube clicking in his inner pocket.
The Alchemy Catalyst 'Dice,' required in order to use Material Creation.
The uses of the Dice were endless.
Useful for dealing with the End Order lot who appeared to have recently resumed activity, and down the line it would help with developing new business items as well.
In short, there was no downside to having extra on hand.
But to produce this dedicated catalyst required not only extremely rare materials, but facilities on the level of a specialized research laboratory.
Meaning that as long as he was 'Jurgen,' it was something that would be difficult to make no matter how much money he had.
So while staying in Albion, he had used the opportunity to clear out every last Dice remaining in the secret safe in his office.
Things he had stashed away in preparation for an emergency.
Five of them, no less.
It felt as if a reassuring reserve asset had been secured.
That alone was enough to warm a corner of his chest, but……
'I made a bet with Brigitte.'
'If we win the Royal Warrant, she'll work at Y&P Trading Company for three years.'
'……What? I didn't threaten her. What do you take me for?!'
Penelope, who he had entrusted with standing in at the competition, had brought back an unexpected result.
She had successfully arranged a bet with Brigitte, with her recruitment on the line.
It was a gain he hadn't even hoped for.
Brigitte had politely refused when Jurgen had tried in various ways to recruit her on the day they had cooked together.
Even when he had pledged full support — even a stake in Y&P Trading Company.
Jurgen had interpreted that as an arrogance particular to artists.
That very aspect was part of what made Brigitte so appealing to him.
Without that degree of stubbornness, she could never have bloomed the tantalizing rose that was Duck Confit in such barren soil where not even a blade of grass would grow.
Yet Penelope, having rescued Brigitte from a crisis, had established the bet through a fitting deal.
Meaning that if CCC were to win this competition —
She had succeeded in a miraculous negotiation in which Brigitte came along as a bonus on top of the Royal Warrant, which had been the original objective.
All Jurgen had to do now was trust in Penelope, who had devoted herself to preparing the food for two days, and cheer her on.
Just then, murmuring reached him from one corner of the audience seating.
"Baron Rangill, congratulations in advance on your win."
"A true noble is one who settles the outcome before the contest has even begun. I am filled with admiration, truly, at His Lordship's resourcefulness."
"Haha, is that not getting ahead of yourselves when it hasn't even started yet?"
"What is there to worry about? You even brought a chef from the Bellua Republic."
"What do you mean? Auguste is a proper Britannia national."
"Ahahaha, that's right."
It was Baron Rangill and his entourage.
"For those who didn't withdraw to be of this caliber."
"Is the young lady of Y&P Trading Company doing the cooking herself?"
"Hmph, has that noble hand ever been dipped in water?"
"If the family has cast you out, the least you can do is stay quiet instead of making a scene."
An atmosphere that had all but confirmed victory.
They looked ready to pop champagne.
'So it was that fellow.'
They seemed to be whispering among themselves, but every word reached Jurgen perfectly.
From the manner of their speech, it appeared it was Baron Rangill's side who had proposed the withdrawal to Penelope and pressured Brigitte.
'Not entirely unexpected.'
The Baron Rangill in his memory had been an underhanded figure from the start.
Seeing that the finalists who had other influential nobles' backing were the ones who withdrew, it seemed he was staking everything on this competition to salvage a family in decline.
He had no particular intention of pointing a finger and calling it cowardly.
Court intrigue of this kind, regardless of the field, always played out in exactly this manner.
Of course —
Whether the result of the competition would also flow as Baron Rangill intended remained to be seen.
"In the name of Her Majesty the Queen, and for the glory of great Britannia, I offer my deepest gratitude to all distinguished guests gathered here today."
The court official standing at the podium recited the opening address and began introducing the judges.
"The Kingdom's brilliant fifth star. Fifth Princess Luiza has graciously undertaken the role of judge."
Luiza, seated at the very center of the judging panel, thrust her chin upward with full force to project her dignity.
But age was not so easily deceived — she was smacking her lips and repeatedly swallowing, gulping down her saliva.
"The second judge is Her Excellency Minister Fontaine of Internal Affairs."
"I request a correction. Acting Minister of Internal Affairs."
"Ah…… Yes, Her Excellency the Acting Minister of Internal Affairs, Fontaine, has graciously undertaken the role."
Lily, requesting the correction with an expressionless face.
'Doing well, I see.'
Seeing Lily seated upright in a sharp, trim suit gave him an oddly warm feeling.
According to rumors coming from the Capital, she was performing beyond even his imagination.
"Finally, the Minister of the Royal Household, Lord Cromwell, has graciously undertaken the role of judge. Submitted dishes must be completed within three hours, and the dish receiving the highest combined score from each judge will have the honor of being awarded the Royal Warrant."
After introducing the final judge —
The court official at last announced the start of the competition.
"Wishing all participants the best of luck, and hoping that the finest dishes worthy of the royal family's honor will come to be created here today."
***
Immediately after the competition began, most of the distinguished guests' gazes were drawn to Auguste.
From a distance, Auguste exuded confidence in waves as he trimmed his ingredients with a flair that was almost slightly exaggerated.
"I've heard the Bellua Republic is famous for its food…… He does have quite the extraordinary air about him."
"My, he is slicing carrots with tremendous energy."
"He is slicing carrots with tremendous energy!"
"But what is he trying to make?"
"Indeed? Just looking at the ingredients, one can't begin to guess……"
None of them had sufficient knowledge of cooking to understand exactly what was happening, but……
One among the distinguished guests understood Auguste's intentions precisely.
"It is a dish called Terrine, Madame."
It was none other than the Bellua Republic's ambassador.
He cleared his throat and slid himself casually into a seat among the elegantly dressed noble ladies.
"It is a dish in which gelatin is added to consommé and set firm as crystal, with various ingredients packed inside. Originally it was opaque in its traditional form, but of late the transparent version is in fashion."
"Ahh! So it's like eel jelly!"
"……"
He had explained to show off, only to receive a devastating reply.
The ambassador was reminded once again of which country he was in.
"Ahem, that dish is not so simple a matter."
Terrine — and among terrines, the 'transparent terrine' currently in vogue in the Bellua Republic — was notoriously difficult to prepare.
The ingredients that went into the 'mold' of set consommé were all different from one another.
For those ingredients to achieve harmony within the mold, each and every one required a different preparatory cooking process beforehand.
"For instance, the ingredients he intends to use are black truffle, scallop, mushroom, carrot, asparagus, and so on, are they not? The point is that every single one of those must be made to harmonize inside the terrine. And so while other dishes can be replicated if one has the recipe, terrine is strictly in the domain of talent and instinct."
Whoooosh!
As if having heard those words, Auguste put on a dazzling fire show over the pan as he seared the scallops.
"That level of heat output without an Alchemy Catalyst……!"
"Are chefs of the Bellua Republic also versed in Alchemy?"
As the cheers of the noble ladies reached him, this time he began slicing furiously with his knife, julienning the truffle.
"In-, incredible! You can't even see his hands!"
"But what is that? It looks like a lump of black dirt……"
The showmanship was heavily layered on, but Auguste's skill was genuine.
There was a reason Baron Rangill had spent good money to bring him in as a hired hand.
"Damn it…… Who is that guy?"
"Bringing someone from Bellua ought to be against the rules……"
The difference in class was evident at a glance.
It was no different from a champion appearing at a youth boxing tournament.
The morale of the other chefs and those who had backed them plummeted sharply.
"This is too much — I'm done……"
"I withdraw."
Two demoralized chefs declared their withdrawal and left the hall, and the expressions of those who ground out their cooking regardless were gloomy as well.
With the exception of just two.
"Sniff sniff — what is that smell?"
One of the noble ladies twitched the tip of her nose.
It was because a nutty aroma had begun to fill the hall at some point.
The ambassador, whose attention had been held captive by Auguste's inspired performance until now, shifted his gaze.
"Oh ho! Is that——?!"
The cooking method of the mild-looking chef was something he recognized very well.
"Confit! To think I would witness Confit here!"
"Confit? And what might that be?"
"It is a refined technique of cooking slowly and gently in oil, Madame. Originally it was a method for making preserved foods — the oil seals out air and prevents oxidation."
Before he knew it the distinguished guests had gathered around the ambassador of the Republic, and he grew all the more spirited and added his commentary with relish.
"That young lady has used a duck! And she is cooking it in duck fat! Truly a Confit faithful to its origins!"
"Hmm, is it so delicious?"
"Delicious and then some! A well-made Duck Confit is a taste from the heavens, worth no less than a thousand gold pieces……! Had I known it would come to this, I ought not to have declined the role of judge……"
"Oh? The other young lady also seems to be doing something with oil? Is that a Confit as well?"
The ambassador, swallowing his drool in regret, looked where the noble lady was pointing and shook his head emphatically.
"That is Fried Chicken. Entirely different."
"Ah, so that is the dish called Chicken?"
"It is a dish of the most ignoble sort, invented by the lower classes to eat every last bit of a chicken down to the bones. To compare it with Confit is absurd."
As the ambassador was clicking his tongue disapprovingly——
"Ambassador Saint-Germain, your eye is a discerning one."
Baron Rangill, who had been listening pleasantly to the ambassador's praise directed at Auguste from a little while ago, approached.
"To think of offering something as paltry as Chicken for royal supply. Desperation makes one blind to what stands before them."
"Desperate?"
"That young lady is the second daughter of Count Rosemore."
"What?! No, but — why would such a young lady be out there frying lower-class food? It is beyond desperate, isn't it?"
"Even if the root is the same, the fragrance and bearing of a rose differs with each bloom. Northern families are harsher toward children of no use, are they not?"
Baron Rangill still harbored ill feelings toward Penelope.
It was because he had heard the story of how she had responded insolently when he'd sent his Henchman to pressure her into withdrawing.
"Without even being recognized as the heir, she must be chasing some hollow delusion."
Having brought up what half of the distinguished guests already knew for the sole purpose of delivering an insult, Baron Rangill felt himself roughly half satisfied.
The remaining half would only be fulfilled upon watching Penelope receive a wretched score and come running out in tears.
Three hours passed just like that.
"Time is up! The judges will now begin their scoring."
The moment of mingling joy and sorrow had arrived.