A Tasty Performance (1)

“Lights, clothes, and… action.”

The slow timbre of the bass rang, accompanied by the occasional chords of piano keys. The spotlight above brightened, revealing a part of the rustic kitchen. Just off to the side, Maeva and her father watched with dropped jaws while I got myself into character.

In through the nose, and out through the mouth.

Now, let’s get started.

“Welcome, welcome all you miscreants to the first ever Chaotic Cooking!” I said, reaching my arms out wide. “I’m your host and amateur chef, the Jester, here to serve you up something deliciously passable.

“Of course, what’s a cooking show without some taste testers? So, joining me today on this random occasion are our judges: the hostess and chef of… um…” What is it again?

The music stopped as I slipped off-stage over to Maeva. “Psst… What’s the name of this hotel again?”

However, she didn’t respond. Unlike her father, who seemed to have recovered with an amused expression, Maeva remained slack-jawed, muttering quietly.

So, stepping over, I leaned right into her ear and yelled, “Maeva!”

“H-huh? What? Who?”

“The name of the hotel please!”

“Oh, um… the Atmeneti Hotel, but wait–”

I scurried back into the spotlight before she could say anything else. The smooth jazz started back up. “Right! Joining me today are the hostess and chef of Atmeneti Hotel: Maeva and Maeva’s father!” I directed my hand over to the side, turning on another spotlight over the two. A thundering round of applause roared from our (fake) live stream audience.

“Wait a second, what’s going–”

“Now, let’s get to our dish of the day!” I kept up the momentum, ignoring Maeva’s confusion. “Today we’re going to make…”

Drdrdrdrdrdrdrdrdrdrdr

“...an omelet! Or I guess you can say omelette, tomato potato–”

“Ok, what the heck is going on?!?” Maeva yelled, finally breaking out of her stupor, freezing the music like a DJ scratching the records. “Who in the world is playing the music?!? Where is that clapping coming from?!? When did we install spotlights?!? How did you put on that apron and suit?!? Why do you even have two pairs of clothes on at all?!?” Huh, that’s all five ‘w’s plus the extra ‘h’. Maeva continued to rapid-fire questions in a panic, her face flushed. Eventually, she tousled her hair, crouching with a final, “I don’t know what’s going on anymore.”

“Hmm, so you’re a mage then, ey boy? Is that why you got pretty all of a sudden?” Maeva’s father asked with a level head. I could tell he was confused, but he was enjoying the spectacle, flipping the pen he held around.

“Well… I wouldn’t call myself a mage. I’m a streamer.”

“A streamer?”

“A jester, a showman, an entertainer, so to say.” After all, almost everything that’s happening was simply an illusion cast on the kitchen. The background music? An illusion. The spotlights? Also an illusion. The apron over suit? Obviously an illusion; Maeva could still see my real clothes underneath. My magic was rather limited, but live on stream, there’s no one better. Have to say, pretty good atmosphere this time around.

“That doesn’t explain anything!!!” Maeva cried out, biting her lower lip. “How the heck is this happening?!?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry–!!!” And… now she’s trying to tear her hair out.

“Ok ok. Let’s get back on track,” I waved off. “Now, there are an infinite number of ways to make an omelette. You can mix and match different fillings, or even incorporate herbs and additives into the eggs themselves. However, given this is our first ever Chaotic Cooking, we’ll stick with an omelet for the average palette.” Well, also because I’m a second-rate home cook, but I don’t need to say that.

“Time for the ingredients!” With a snap of my fingers, the food storage doors opened. Maeva’s father held his pen and notebook at the ready while Maeva stared off into space.

“First, we have the eggs, obviously.” As if responding to my voice, the eggs flew out of the cabinet, landing softly on the countertop next to the stove. “You can think of an omelet as a folded pancake, so I typically recommend at least two. Though, you can put however many your pan fits.”

“This is just too weird. Why is he carrying things like that?” Maeva mumbled. Sounded like she saw through my floating illusion, not that it was anything special. I just opened the door and pulled the ingredients out. This is a (sort of) stream; it needs some flourish.

“If you want to change the base texture and flavor, you can also add in something. The most common are water, cream, and milk; but just plain eggs are also quite popular. I’ll be using water this time, which is about a tablespoon per two eggs.” In response, a nearby cup filled itself with water.

“How many cups is that?” Maeva’s father asked.

“Well, you carry the one, and then add two, leaving… absolutely no idea!” What? So I didn’t know my conversion tables. All I needed to use was a tablespoon measurer. Do they not have one here?

“There are, but those spoon sets are about a hundred reale. Using a regular cup’s much cheaper.” Well, given the money pit that is this restaurant, I can understand that. From what I could tell, the plain wooden cup I was using held about one-and-a-half cups.

“Well, as they say, if you can’t measure, then eyeball,” I shrugged my shoulders. “Actually, let’s have our judges join us on stage! That should make it easier to see what we’re cooking.”

“But why didn’t you do that sooner… and why did you treat filling up a cup like it was a mind-boggling feat… Ugh, I give up,” Maeva came to some sort of epiphany; her eyes a bit frenzied.

“Haha! Best to get used to it now, o daughter of mine. I can tell he’s not going to make any sense!”

“Now, now. Let’s save the banter for later.” Not that I can refute it. “Time to pull out the herbs! These will be mixed directly with the egg and cooked off. For this, we’ll use some parsley and… thyme…” None of the ingredients floated off the shelves. And by that, I mean I can’t find them at all. Where are they?!?

“Third storage, first shelf on the right,” Maeva’s father easily pointed out. I took out (read: floated) the herbs over silently.

“And finally we have the fillings!”

“You’re just gonna ignore that?!?” Hey, no need to point it out.

“It can literally be anything, but you typically see cheese, vegetables (fungi included), and meat. We’ll save meat for another time, so let’s just stick with some swiss cheese topped off with onions, peppers, and mushrooms.”

“Does it matter what kind of mushrooms?”

“Nope, just experiment! I prefer the thicker ones like buttons and portabellas though.”

“Gotcha,” Maeva’s father scribbled another note.

“Of course, we can’t forget about salt and pepper, but these can be added at the end for our tasters to add themselves.”

“Perfect for you, dad,” Maeva offhandedly said, which was met by a quick bonk on the head.

“Now that we have all the ingredients together, we can finally start.” I snapped my fingers.

“Let’s get cooking!”