"You dare to call zis slop 'cuisine'?"
Rochelle sighed inwardly, but kept her expression carefully neutral. She desperately needed this job, so she was not about to snap back at the head chef... no matter how much of a jerk he was, and no matter how bad his fake accent was.
The head chef of Le Couteau Doré (The Gilded Knife, Rochelle automatically translated in her head), the finest restaurant in Canterlot, was a huge, overweight earth pony named Toque Blanche (White Chef's Hat, she translated again). He was so grossly obese that any fat joke you could make about him would fail to do him justice. Were it not for the fact that his weight was equal parts fat and muscle, it would be impossible for him to move. Instead, his profound obesity gave him a strangely intimidating bearing.
Which fit perfectly well with his overbearing personality...
"Ze apples," the fat pony continued, in a voice that could have been heard in Manehattan, "are so undercooked zat zey are singing 'Raise Zis Barn' at ze family reunion!"
Looking at the apples in question, which were part of an apple tart, Rochelle thought that they did not seem too bad, given the circumstances. The dish had been rushed, she had to admit, but Toque was the one doing the rushing: the meal required a prep time of close to an hour, but the head chef had demanded it be done in half that. If the chef wanted the food to be perfect, then why was he giving her such unreasonable demands? It was like he was setting her up to fail...
"I swear, if it were up to me," Toque continued, "then I would have you thrown out of here. However, it is not my call... yet. The manager has decided to give you one more chance. If I hear one complaint about anything you cook today, however, you will be out ze door with my hoof print on your flank, girl or not. Do you understand me?"
"Yes sir," Rochelle said, her expression and tone neutral. She mentally calculated the odds of her getting another job as a chef somewhere else in Canterlot, one that would pay anywhere near as well, and, upon reaching the expected answer, bit back anything else she might add.
"Order up!"
Toque snatched the written order from the waiter, and gave it to Rochelle. "Get to it."
The waiter, Majordome, an elderly gray pegasus, was getting a weird vibe from the new customer. Maj had served many an individual here who even a quick glance could tell you would be bad news, but this guy seemed like he'd season his food with the ground up bones of anyone who angered him.
...Still, all he was doing was sitting there, patiently waiting for his meal, so even if he was trouble, that didn't mean that he was trouble for anypony here...
Rochelle breathed a sigh of relief when she read the order: Fontal Polenta Avec Champignons Sautés (Fontal Polenta With Mushroom Saute). While it had a fancy name, the meal was quick, simple, and flavorful. Just the thing she needed to relieve a little stress: there was no way that she could get this one wrong.
She started by heating the cooking oil in a skillet over high heat. Then Rochelle added the mushrooms (this recipe called for several different kinds of mushroom blended together), and sautéd them for four minutes. Once that was done, she added herbs (oregano and thyme, plus a few extras she'd found to give the basic recipe a boost) and garlic, seasoning them for taste; after that, she sauteed them for an additional minute. The next step was to stir in one third cup vegetable broth (her own special mix), two spoons of lemon juice, one eighth teaspoon salt, and one eighth teaspoon black pepper.
Next, Rochelle brought two cups of milk and one and one third cups of broth to a boil, and stirred in the polenta (cornmeal boiled into a porridge for the laypony). She then cooked this for four minutes, stirring constantly. She stirred in two ounces of cheese and a quarter teaspoon of salt, and sprinkled another two ounces of cheese atop the finished product. She divided this out into four dishes: this was a popular recipe here, so the remaining three servings would be ordered and eaten before they got cold, or someone here would eat them at lunch. She then put the lot to broil in the oven for five minutes. When it was done, she pulled it out, put three to the side for later, and set the one for the customer on the counter for the final step.
She turned away for a split second to grab the mushrooms to add to the mix. As she turned back, she saw Toque walking away. Huh, it looked like he had been inspecting her work. Well, he wasn't going to have any complaints about this meal: this was one of the first recipes she'd learned, and she could do it in her sleep, if need be. She sprinkled the mushrooms over the lot, and gave the order to Majordomo to deliver to the customer.
Maj set the meal down in front of the unicorn who had ordered it, then returned to his spot by the kitchen entrance to wait. The customer began eating promptly, and seemed very clearly to be enjoying the meal... until he stopped abruptly, a look of shock on his face. After a moment, the unicorn's expression turned stony, then gestured to the waiter, who promptly walked over to the table.
Nervously, the waiter asked, "Is there something wrong, sir?" This unicorn was giving Maj the creeps...
"I will speak with the one who cooked this, the head chef, and the manager, if he or she is available." His tone made it clear that this was not a request, or even a demand, but a prophecy: it would happen, regardless of whether any of them wanted to talk to him or not. It also promised grave consequences to anypony who tried to argue.
"At once, sir."
Rochelle, concern written large upon her face, asked, "Did he say why?"
Maj shook his head, and said, "No, and I wasn't about to ask him. This guy gives me the creeps..." The waiter shuddered.
That was worrying: Majordomo had served individuals suspected of being leaders in organized crime with nary a whimper. A high class restaurant like this one required a certain amount of nerve: not every customer with expensive tastes was nice... or forgiving. If this guy was giving Maj a bad enough feeling that the veteran waiter was nervous, he must be very intimidating indeed.
Toque, on the other hoof, had a smug smile on his face...
In short order, Rochelle, Toque Blanche, and the restaurant manager, a grey and white pegasus by the name of Silver Tongue, were assembled in front of the customer. Upon seeing the customer, Rochelle had wished that she'd taken the opportunity to wash her face. And maybe put on a clean uniform and some makeup: the stallion in question was a total hottie.
Tall, well built, with an ash gray coat, and pitch black mane: he was totally her type (she liked the tall, dark, and handsome look, and he was pulling it off like a master). Strangely enough, though, he somehow seemed familiar, which should have been impossible: she would never have forgotten meeting somepony this good-looking. Still, Rochelle felt incredibly nervous, given that the next words out of his mouth would probably get her fired.
The unicorn looked to her, and... smiled. It wasn't a big smile, but it was there. He asked, "You're the one who cooked this?"
Rochelle nodded mutely.
With a tone that was surprisingly light for such a stern face, the customer said, "Let me just say, first off, that I have not had this meal cooked by somepony else in quite some time. In fact, the last time I can recall having had it when I, myself, was not the chef, was when my mother had cooked it for me as a colt. It would likely have broken her heart to hear me say this, but you did a better job of cooking this than she could have ever dreamed of. I doubt I could have cooked it better myself. It was delight to the taste buds, and if this was the last meal I ever ate, I would go to my grave with no complaints."
Rochelle blushed brightly at the compliment. She wasn't used to getting praise about her cooking. She knew that she had some skill, but hearing it from somepony this good looking was going right to her head...
"Which is why," the unicorn asked, turning his attention to Toque, his expression clearly angry, "I can't help but wonder why you would have desecrated such a magnificent meal by spitting in it?"
Rochelle turned, shocked, to look at the obese pony, shock written large on her face. Spitting in a customer's food? That was practically juvenile!
Toque's shocked expression gave his guilt away, but he still tried to deny it.
"Don't bother trying to lie your way out of it," the unicorn said, his anger rising with each word. "I memorized this recipe a long time ago, and I know for a fact that it doesn't contain bell peppers. I could taste it in the saliva from whoever spat in it. The same type of peppers that I can smell on your breath, I should add. Did you enjoy your grilled pepper salad?"
Quite a tongue this guy had, if he could discern that taste from the medly of flavors in his meal so easily. And quite a nose to go with it...
His tone now icy, and his red eyes filled with barely contained rage, the stallion said, "If there is one thing I cannot stand, it's somepony spitting in my food."
Wait... now Rochelle realized where she had seen this customer before: last week in the papers, he was the front page story. The return of a legendary wizard who had barely escaped destruction. The notorious villain had walked right up to Canterlot Palace, demanded to see the princesses... and immediately begged their forgiveness for his past misdeeds. She'd heard that he had been allowed clemency for his crimes, given that the thorny issue of statute of limitations would make a trial extremely complicated. However, even knowing all of that, it had taken her a moment to realize just who it was that she was looking at. Well, who wouldn't have had trouble recognizing him, given that you can hardly expect a former member of royalty to walk into your workplace?
Of course, without his crown or the other accoutrements, he looked like an ordinary pony. But now she could clearly see who had just complimented her on her cooking: The tyrant of the Crystal Empire, the master of dark magic, and one of the most powerful wizards to have ever lived...
King Sombra.
And Toque Blanche had been caught spitting in his food.
One Thousand Years Ago...
King Sombra was getting really sick of the taste of spit in his food.
Poison he could stand: one of the first things he had done, before he set off on the road to rule, was to acquire an immunity, or at least a powerful resistance, to every ingestible poison known to ponykind. Since any poison put in his food would, if the poisoner knew what he was doing, be tasteless, it didn't interfere with the flavor of his meal.
Saliva was a different matter. Disgusting as spit can be, it didn't actually interfere with the flavor on it's own. However, it contained traces of anything that the spitter had recently eaten, and with a tongue as sensitive and discerning as his own, he couldn't help but notice it. Every. Single. Time.
...This ruined the entire meal, the entire experience of eating for him. It was like trying to get a good night's sleep with a sharp rock under your sheets, or like trying to enjoy the sound of a symphony while a mosquito was buzzing non-stop in your ear. He couldn't stand it. It should not have bothered him, but even the smallest things can become a major distraction when you're trying to enjoy yourself. But there was no way that he could escape it as long as he had others cooking for him...
As he glared at the chef he was even now considering blasting to atoms, an idea formed in the tyrant's mind. He chuckled to himself as he sat upon his throne, causing the chef to writhe in fear.
"I suppose," Sombra said to the terrified chef, "that I could be merciful, and spare your life. In exchange, however, I want something from you."
The terrified chef nodded, his relief evident at having been spared from annihilation. "Anything you want, master."
A slow smile spread across his face as he said, "Good. Teach me how to cook."
Both Rochelle and Silver Tongue stared at the head chef, with her angry, and the manager simply shocked. Rochelle broke the silence first, asking a question that she should have asked days ago.
"It's because I'm a changeling, isn't it?"
There were no laws in Equestria that made being a changeling illegal. In fact, such a law would be considered highly unethical, and smacked of outright tyranny: in what fair and just society could there be a law that you broke simply by being born? The only laws regarding changelings were those that would apply to any other creature with the ability to change their appearance (and there are many who have that ability as part of their skill set). The most important of those laws, naturally, is simply this: you can't hide what you are in your day to day life. So, as long as Rochelle (her birth name was Roach, actually, but seriously, what girl would want that as her name?) lived openly as a changeling, she was free to be a citizen of Equestia, with all the rights thereof... including the right to live free of persecution due to her race.
Toque, strangely enough, seemed offended by that. "It has nothing to do with that," he stated angrily, losing his fake accent in the process. You could always tell when he was truly upset: a pony, born and raised here on the streets of Canterlot would never get taken seriously as a chef of foreign cuisine if he didn't have some sort of accent. So, great, he wasn't a speciesist, but if that was the case, why? Why go to all this trouble to either make her quit or get her fired?
Sombra chuckled, and asked, "Is it because she's a better chef than you are?"
The earth pony almost seemed to deflate as he sagged in shame and admitted, "Yes."
Now that was shocking to hear... but in a weird way, it made sense: Toque kept his position as head chef due simply to the fact that he was, without a doubt, the best chef in the restaurant, hooves down. That was in spite of his abrasive personality and his mercurial temperament. If it was found that there was a better chef working here, one that didn't have all of his baggage attached...
It explained everything, really: the constant verbal abuse, the unreasonable demands, the endless insults to the quality of her cooking. She'd thought that he was just being a jerk (and he still was a jerk, there was no denying that, especially now), but it had all been part of a campaign to get her to quit or get her fired, before anypony realized that she was a better chef than he was. He had been trying to keep his job while not actually trying to improve his own cooking skills...
Silver Tongue, his expression clearly angry, said, "Toque, get your locker cleared out, pronto."
Rochelle thought for a moment that the obese earth pony was about to be fired, but what came next was even worse.
A smile, one that had no actual humor in it, crossed the pegasus' face as he said, "Our branch in Van Hoover needs a new head chef. You're it. If I hear even one word of complaint out of your mouth, you can consider yourself sacked."
Ouch. The Van Hoover branch had been struggling for at least a couple of years now: the clientele there was very limited, and as such, they didn't get nearly as much business. The folks in Van Hoover tended to prefer simpler fare. That meant that Toque would be essentially banished from the culinary mainstream.
...But at the same time, if he was able to get the restaurant back up and running, he'd eventually have a chance to redeem himself.
After a moment, Toque said, "Understood." The obese earth pony seemed to have reached the same conclusion, or at least calculated what his odds would be in regards to finding employment ANYWHERE, if it ever got out that he spit in the food of a major celebrity.
Sombra chuckled, and said, "Since it seems that this is getting sorted out so nicely, I suppose I'll refrain from filing a formal complaint about this." Silver Tongue visibly relaxed at that, while Toque breathed a sigh of relief.
Rochelle could understand why they both seemed a great deal less stressed now: The fact that King Sombra wasn't allowed to annihilate anypony who annoyed him didn't change the fact that he could make Toque's life quite miserable in a number of ways, including just by mentioning this incident to anypony in high office. Like, oh, say, his parole officer, Princess Luna. Word of this kind of behavior would be a black mark on the restaurant in general, and on Toque in particular. If Sombra ever breathed a word of this to anypony, Toque would be lucky to get a job as a fry cook at a greasy spoon afterwards. The massive ball of lard turned and left without another word, apparently thankful that he was getting out of this with his skin intact and with at least a hope of being head chef at a restaurant that mattered again someday.
Silver turned towards Rochelle, and said, "I appear to be in need of a new head chef. Would you be interested in the job?"
The changeling smiled, nodded, and saluted, "I'll make you proud, boss. I can start right away."
Grinning, the pegasus said, "Nah. Take the rest of the day off, on me: it's always slow on a Tuesday night. You can start first thing tomorrow."
A promotion, the rest of the day off with pay, AND she got to see Toque get transferred to another city where she would never have to deal with him and his fake accent ever again? This came perilously close to becoming the best day ever.
Turning towards Sombra, Silver Tongue bowed, and apologized, saying, "I cannot possibly express how sorry I am about all of this, sir. If there's anything I could do to make it up to you?"
Chuckling, Sombra said, "Oh no, it's quite alright. I was worried that my afternoon was going to be dull, but this all has livened up my day immensely. Ah, but if you could see to having another helping brought to me, minus the, ah, additional seasoning, I would be most appreciative."
The pegasus smiled, then gestured to Majordomo. The waiter nodded, then went into the kitchen. Thankfully, there were three more servings to be had, so that wouldn't be a problem.
"Ah," Sombra said, smiling at Rochelle, "And since it seems you have the rest of the day off, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind sitting down and having a little chat with me. I must admit, I am curious to find out how a changeling managed to land a job at a five star restaurant. If it's not an inconvenience?"
Okay, now it was definitely the best day ever. "I'd be delighted."
