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Chapter 25 - Roasting
🕑 Added 2025-02-25 18:00:04 +0000 UTCJulienne missed many things about Ambrosia City, but he did not miss its air. Everything was so packed together, forcing a hundred otherwise pleasant aromas condense into one overwhelming, unidentifiable smell.
But in Toral, where lawns separated buildings and the old mossy stone absorbed any stenches, the air was pure bliss. As a gondola carried the students through Toral, Julienne let the smells wash over him.
There was the pleasantly pungent aroma of cheese as they passed a fromagerie. The soothing smell of lavender fields. When they turned around a bend, he smelled the coffee of the corner cafes. Freshly baked bread. Rotisserie-cooked meat. He smelled strawberries as a man walked on the bridge overhead with a big basket. But no smell compared to the one coming from the chateau that they approached.
The building was rosey stone with deep blue tiled roofs, a tower on each corner, tall, frequent windows reflecting the sun. Apple trees wrapped around the sides of the building, and a great lawn with immaculately trimmed hedges served as the introduction to the grand building. Two rows of life-sized statues portrayed headmasters from Lyceum Labrusca’s history. But in front of them all, one great statue loomed tall.
“Who’s that one?” Mindy asked as Julienne helped her off the boat.
“Headmaster Samin,” Julienne answered. “Lyceum Labrusca was the first of the Culinary Academies, and she started it. She was one of history’s greatest teachers, and life as we know it might not exist without her.”
Julienne admired the statue. Even from afar, and even in the stone, the sculptors had captured a likeness that felt approachable.
The students walked down the stone paths and crossed a plaza where two dozen people ate the Lyceum’s creations as they whispered and speculated who these Chefs were with the Platterian-styled jackets.
Julienne led his team through the red doors and into a tiny room with scarred stone walls. The four of them could hardly all fit in the room, the only path being up a spiral staircase that bent up and to the right.
“Some entrance,” Yarrow said.
Julienne smiled and remembered visiting the Lyceum as a child. He took on the role of tour guide.
“It was constructed with combat in mind,” he said as he climbed the first few steps and then turned back to them. He mimicked swinging his right arm down at them. “See how if you were assaulting the Lyceum, you’d have to swing with your left? It gives the defenders the advantage.”
“Even your Culinary Academy was made with war in mind?”
“It’s just part of our culture,” Julienne said as he shrugged. He mimicked another attack on Yarrow before turning and running up the stairs.
They stomped up after him, turning around once, twice, three times as they climbed into a grand foyer of marble floors and ribbed stone ceilings. Paintings of Labrusca’s most famous Chefs looked down from the high walls, one likeness in particular standing out to Julienne.
The man in the painting had tightly curled salt and pepper hair, full cheeks, and massive black eyebrows that curved to match his warm, half-laughing smile. He held as many mushrooms as he could carry in his arms against his chest, nearly covering the entirety of his black jacket.
“Head Chef Orzo,” Julienne told no one in particular as he pointed up at the painting. “The greatest living Chef in Labrusca.”
Yarrow walked up next to Julienne and looked up at the painting. “If he’s the best, why’s he not a White Jacket?”
“Labrusca exports all its White Jackets. It exports most of its Chefs, really. They learn here and then go across the world to find their place.”
“Still. You think there’d be at least one White Jacket that stayed behind.”
“Well, right now all of Labrusca’s White Jackets are named Julienne.”
“He looks so happy,” Mindy commented. “Like a loveable grandpa.”
“Next drink’s on me if you call him gramps,” Oliver dared Mindy.
Julienne punched Oliver’s shoulder.
“Alright, alright, I’ll tone it down,” Oliver conceded. “Where to now?”
They looked around at the many hallways of the Lyceum. A warm, melodic voice bounced down one of the halls.
“Sounds like the main kitchen,” Julienne said. “Good a place as any to start.”
As they walked down the well-polished floors of the hallway, the smell from the main kitchen rushed to meet them.
“Want to bet what they’re making?” Oliver asked. “I can’t smell anything other than the onion, so I’m guessing Labruscan onion soup.”
“I thought you were more creative that that,” Yarrow scoffed before submitting his guess. “I smell carrot. Bolognese.”
“You two should check your noses if you can’t smell the meat,” Mindy said. “Roast beef stew.”
“Beef stock,” Julienne answered. The smells were too subtly layered. They had to have been submerged in liquid and simmering.
The students entered the Lyceum’s main kitchen, a room larger than any that preceded it. The kitchen was as grand as any in Ambrosia City, even Cafe Julienne’s, with polished steel countertops and flumes coming down from the ceiling and hanging over each stove, carrying their aromas out to mingle with nature’s.
Twenty students of orange and yellow and green and blue jackets paid no mind to Julienne, instead focusing on their summer studies.
Until the Black Jacket at the head of the room announced their arrival. “Attention Chefs!”
The class snapped to attention, reminding Julienne of Colby’s class.
“We have a special guest today! Our future pride of Labrusca, petit Julienne!”
The class burst into applause, the lower ranked students clapping loudest of all. A few Blue Jackets mimed the motion, letting their hands barely rub together. Julienne stepped forward and waved before taking the Black Jacket’s outstretched hand and shaking it.
“Head Chef Orzo,” Julienne said. “It is an honor to meet you.”
“Mhm,” Orzo moaned. Since his painting had been hung, the man’s hair had turned pure white without losing any of its thickness, and age had made his face plump enough to hide his eyes between cheek and brow when he smiled. “And this must be your team.”
Orzo did not bother to shake their hands, instead gripping Julienne’s firmly. Julienne let his hand go limp, but Orzo hung on. He pulled Julienne to step in front of the class.
“Now class, we want to see what a Julienne can do, don’t we?“
”Yes, Chef!” they answered.
“Great!” Orzo flipped his hands back and forth as he turned to Julienne. “We’re challenging ourselves today. Half hour beef stock. Normally, we simmer for up to half a day. But with this, we see how much of the bone’s flavor we can extract in just half an hour.”
“Interesting,” Julienne said. He didn’t want to start with a test, but Orzo left him no choice.
“Fili! Give up your broth for petit Julienne. We’re nearly twenty minutes in, so this will be easy for you to finish. Let’s have you go cook next to your cousin.”
Another family member. Julienne tried not to wince. He failed when he saw who it was.
Of all of Julienne’s family members that lived in Labrusca, Julienne saw this one the most. He came up to Cafe Julienne once per year for his father’s birthday. He was in his third year and had developed a reputation as one of the world’s most promising Chefs. Perfect marks on both finals. Studious. Hard-working. His name was Brûlée, and if anyone was going to take Julienne’s name away, it was him. Uncle Julienne made that clear on more than one occasion.
Julienne hated Brûlée. He knew it was more than Brûlée deserved, but Julienne couldn’t help himself. He hated everything about his cousin. Brûlée bore a slight resemblance to his father, but lacked all of his charms. The boy looked like a rat with his thin, protruding face and ears that stuck out straight sideways. He kept his hair short, but let his sideburns grow to a ridiculous length just beyond his ear, where it met with a stubbly beard that grew as thick as a carpet around the goatee.
But worst of all was his voice. Julienne wished Brûlée had moved to Ambrosia City just so that might lose his obnoxious accent. He had taken on all of the worst aspects of a northern Labruscan accent and exaggerated them to the extreme. Guttural sounds, words that flowed together without proper space. It was simultaneously nasally with vowels that came from the front of the mouth and deep from the consonants that came from their throats. His entire face moved when he spoke, showing little muscles around his jaw that Julienne never knew existed.
He used that horrible voice to greet Julienne.
“Cousin Julienne! It is so good to see you.”
Julienne refrained from rolling his eyes as he took his spot next to his cousin. “You too, Brûlée.”
“My father is well?”
Julienne ignored the question for a moment as he watched Orzo escort his fellow Academy students to some empty stoves. “Hm? Oh, yes. Very well. Will you be coming for his birthday?”
“Yes. I’ll be staying for the Ambrosial Summit as well.”
Great.
“Great.”
Julienne looked for something to stir the stock with, but the only other thing on the stove was a thin baguette. He bent down to look in a drawer.
“Do you not cook the baguette magique way?” Brûlée asked. He pulled his baguette from the pot. Despite having used it to stir, the baguette had absorbed no liquid.
Julienne found a large wooden spoon and dipped it into his stock. “We don’t learn that at the Academy.”
“Oh,” Brûlée blurted with a guttural throat clear. “You should learn. It really is a superior way of cooking. The bread is a much more natural conduit for channeling essence. Have my father teach you.”
Julienne focused on the task at hand. He catalogued the contents of the stock as he stirred, identifying the carrots, celery, and onion that had been put in with the beef bones. Next was to analyze how their essences had merged, but Julienne struggled to focus due to his cousin’s continuing and obnoxiously vocal disapproval.
“This is very strange, that you do not know baguette magique. I shall teach you this summer.”
“That’s okay,” Julienne said, not afraid to let some of his frustration bleed into his voice. “We’re very busy this summer.”
“Busy learning, yes. My father has told me about your team.” Brûlée nodded to each of them. “Yarrow has an acid problem. Head Chef Orzo will fix it. Mindy is a natural at presentation and has an affinity to sauces. You should tell her of our Saucelleries. And that one, I do not know. Is he a new member of your team?”
Julienne considered ignoring him. “He’s here to help acquire the Charmant truffle. I assume you’ve heard of that.”
“Yes, yes. We received word before your arrival. I believe my father paid every town crier in Labrusca to call it out every morning.”
“Have you heard of many hunters dropping out of the race?”
“Some.”
Julienne smiled at the natural conclusion of their conversation. Now he could work. But there was something nagging him from the back of his mind.
“What did your father say about me?”
Brûlée puffed his lips up with air, stirring as he considered the question. He found his answer but did not look up to tell it. “I understand that this is an important mission for you.”
Julienne clenched his teeth and fought the urge to flex his stomach. So that was it? If he failed, would he be coming back to Ambrosia City? Or would Brûlée be going in his place? Julienne struggled to block out the noise. He focused on his breathing. In. In. In. Out.
He found the threads of essence in each vegetable, bringing them down like a hook to pull the essence from the bones. With each stir of the spoon, he advanced the process by several extra seconds. Whoever had worked on this before him had done outstanding work. Julienne just needed to bring it home.
But he wasn’t home. He was in a place where people did not know not to distract him.
“Petit Julienne,” Orzo chimed as he patted Julienne on the back too hard. He carried a little cup of some near-black liquid. “We can’t make things too easy for you, of course. Grab this.”
He positioned his hand so that Julienne could hold the cup with him. Julienne cupped the bottom, feeling the essence of vanilla through the glass. The whole class had paused their own work to stare at their beloved Head Chef and the newcomer with the reputation.
“Tell me, petit Julienne. Where are you?”
“Um…Labrusca.”
“No, no, no. Tell me specifically where.” Orzo leaned in, his beady black eyes honing in on Julienne’s.
“Lyceum Labrusca.”
“As specific as you can be.”
“I am in the center of the main kitchen of Lyceum Labrusca in Toral in Labrusca. Specific enough?” Julienne recognized the impatience in his voice and smiled to compensate.
“Certainly! And this is how we do things here!” Orzo cheered as he dumped the entire cup of vanilla into Julienne’s stock.
Julienne gasped in a panic and scrambled to find a ladle. There wasn’t a pot in all of United Ambrosia that needed that much vanilla, and a beef stock needed exactly none of it. The stock was certainly ruined, but Julienne still had to try to save it.
“Ah-tuh-tuh,” Orzo scolded as he grabbed Julienne’s hand by the wrist and pulled it to the wooden spoon. “Don’t remove, just contain. Hold the essence of the vanilla within itself so that it does not mix.”
Julienne stirred quickly. It took no time at all to find the vanilla’s essence. It ran through the rest of the ingredients like a carriage through a picnic. He tried to wrangle the vanilla’s essence back in, but it had already spread too far. He stirred and stirred and stirred, sticking his tongue out in concentration. Nothing.
“I can’t,” he admitted.
“Hm.” Orzo frowned. “Brûlée, help your cousin.
Brûlée pushed Julienne aside and took the discarded baguette, dipping it into the stock. When he pulled it back out, the tip was black with vanilla, having absorbed nothing else from the stock. He held the baguette over his cup, and although he did not squeeze, the vanilla was wrung out, leaving the bread bone dry.
“Too difficult for someone of your level,” Orzo said. “I thought perhaps a Julienne would perform above his rank, but it seems you have been appropriately dressed in yellow.”
Julienne sensed hostility behind the words. But then Orzo tilted his head and smiled, taking on that friendly persona that Mindy had seen in the painting.
“Do not worry, petit Julienne! Few can match Brûlée’s skill, and certainly no one your age could. Many Chefs have their breakthroughs in their second or third year, and you are young yet. Stick around and learn something. There is much training to do.”
