Absinthe

Chapter 45: Cordillera Clouds

I thought it was the warmth of the sunlight that woke me up. But I realized it was Jiwoo's lips on my

cheeks that did.

"Sorry, did I disturb your sleep?" he asked.

I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. Jiwoo waited for me to sit upright before doing the same, and I

noticed his eyes were still on me.

"What?" I asked.

"I think I'm in love with you," he said.

I burst out laughing. "What time is it?"

"It's just a few minutes past six."

I glanced around and saw that the place was covered in thick mist, which made the air cold, and the

sun was mostly obscured by fluffy clouds.

I jumped out of the pickup truck with Jiwoo following closely behind. I ran to the thick growth on the side

of the road until I was near the edge of the cliff. I sat there feeling breathless and reveled in the sight. A

few rays of the sun pierced through the clouds and showered certain spots of the mountainside with

bursts of orange light.

I felt Jiwoo sit behind me, enveloping me in an embrace.

"It's beautiful," I commented.

"You're fishing for compliments," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"You know how I'd respond to that. I did so last night."

"I just said that the scenery is beautiful," I protested.

"You are beautiful," Jiwoo said as he buried his face in my shoulder.

It was then that I remembered how he had said the same thing last night. I didn't move. I wanted to

stay there for as long as I could.

"Hey, Jiwoo," I said, realizing that I hadn't properly acknowledged how he had kept me company

yesterday. "Thank you for everything."

Jiwoo tightened his embrace before he let go and faced me. And then he inched slowly forward until his

lips were almost touching mine. I knew better than to move, but I did. I met his lips until he parted mine

and we were kissing again.

We must have dozed off because we were lying on the grass when I woke up to Nico's complaints.

"Jesus! I thought something bad happened to you guys! I searched for you everywhere, and the car

was empty!"

"Sorry, man," Jiwoo said, helping me to my feet.

"I'm never going to help you with your schemes again," Nico declared.

"Hey! No fair!" Jiwoo complained loudly.

"Let's go back," Nico said. "We only have this afternoon to practice for tomorrow's lunch challenge."

Fuck, I'd totally forgotten about that. I hadn't thought of what dish to cook!

Jiwoo must have noticed the look of panic on my face because he leaned in and whispered, "You'll do

great. I know it."

Back at the villa, I spent the entire afternoon racking my brains as to what I could possibly serve for

dessert. I could smell what Jiwoo was cooking in the kitchen, and it was amazing. The guy really knew

his way around aromas and flavors.

At around 6 in the evening, Jiwoo sat beside me and invited me out for dinner. I still hadn't come up

with a dish. But I figured I could take a break from brainstorming, so I reluctantly agreed. We met with

the other two at the central restaurant.

We all ate in silence. For the first time since our arrival, the food wasn't chicken anymore. I happened

to glance at the small painting across our table, and the landscape depicted in it was oddly familiar.

Nico followed my gaze and said, "That's where I found you guys this morning. It's the cliff side of the

place where this asshole plotted to have a night out with you."

"Hey!" Jiwoo protested.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Vivi asked. "I saw that place on our first morning here. The surroundings were epic

with all that fog and the sunrise!"

And then something dawned on me.

"Guys!" I said. "I know what to cook!"

The following morning, I was first in the kitchen because the dessert I planned for had a lot of elements

that had to be made in advance.

A few minutes past 9, Nico arrived and started working on his dish. Vivi and Jiwoo came in 30 minutes

later, so the kitchen was suddenly busy with all four of us doing what looked like four or five things at

the same time. I could feel the eyes of the head chef darting left and right.

By 11, we finished all the necessary preparations and decided to have an early lunch. We were all

famished for not having had breakfast.

At 11:30, we were back in the kitchen to finalize everything. At 12, the head chef announced that Chef

Maxwell was already seated together with the chosen panel of judges.

"We're good," Vivi responded. "Starters coming in the next five."

The head chef turned on the TV on the wall that I knew was used to monitor the activity in the dining

hall. Only this time, the camera was focused on one table alone.

I could clearly see Maxwell sitting with three people I didn't know. One of them was a lady in her mid-

50s dressed in business formal attire. Beside her was an old man, probably in his 80s. The last judge

was a young lady wearing a floral outfit.

We saw Vivi's food being served. Once the cloche was lifted, all of them at the table applauded in

delight.

"I made raviolis," Vivi told us. "I laminated some flower petals and herbs into the pasta sheets, and the

filling is made of goat cheese and sautéed local mushrooms."

"And the broth?" Jiwoo asked.

"I made a consommé from the goat bone broth I'd been cooking since last night."

"Genius!" I heard Nico say. "We're off to a brilliant start."

Chef Maxwell and the judges cleaned their plates in no time, and after a few moments, Jiwoo's soup

dish was brought out.

The business lady and the older man shook their heads upon finding out what was about to be served.

They probably disliked the idea of the soup. I glanced at Jiwoo, but he didn't seem too worried.

However, the same two judges suddenly clapped after they had their first spoonful of the soup.

"You made a potage parmentier, didn't you?" Nico asked.

Jiwoo nodded. "The people in this area use a lot of potatoes in their cooking, so I chose that for the

body of the soup. For the flavors, I pureed some grilled root crops, with leeks being the main flavor

profile. Then I used rabbit broth."

"Rabbit?" I asked.

"Yeah. I heard it's a mainstay for those who live in the mountains." This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

We all glanced back at the screen. It looked as though the judges were very happy with the soup, too.

"My turn," Nico said.

True enough, the main course was next. No one in the dining hall was moving. They were all studying

the plates before them.

Chef Maxwell signaled to the server, who came and listened to whatever he had to say.

"Uh-oh," Vivi said. "Looks like trouble."

Nico smirked. "You're underestimating me."

Seconds later, the server entered the kitchen and announced that Nico was being called out to explain

his dish.

We all followed Nico to give him moral support.

"Hello," Nico greeted them. "This is my version of pinakbet."

What the fuck? Pinakbet is a vegetable dish that is known in the Philippines as a healthy, poor man's

meal. It's made with tossed vegetables simmered in coconut milk and flavored with shrimp paste.

I glanced at what was on the plate, but it looked nothing like pinakbet at all. Pinakbet usually consists of

soggy, overcooked vegetables that can't even hold their shape anymore.

Nico's plate was a full-on pyramid with different colorful layers, nine in total. And there was purplish rice

shaped like a crescent moon around the pyramid.

"Is that a terrine?" Vivi whispered to me.

"Looks like it," I said. "A vegetable pyramid terrine. Nico's outdone himself."

The panelists didn't seem to need any other explanation. They reached for their utensils and started

digging into the terrine.

Unsurprisingly, there were cries of joy from the judges, and everybody clapped and congratulated Nico

for coming up with such a sophisticated dish that hit so close to home. Pinakbet, after all, originated

from that area of the country.

Of course, my dish came last. For some odd reason, none of us seemed inclined to go back to the

kitchen. It made me anxious as hell.

Four servers came in with the desserts. Nico and Vivi started discussing it in soft voices. Jiwoo put his

hand on my shoulder and whispered, "You did amazing."

"Oh-hoh, what do we have here?" Chef Maxwell asked.

"Am I seeing cotton candy?" the judge in the floral dress said.

As soon as all four plates were on the table, the servers readied their mini flagons filled with my special

peach sauce.

"Ready, messieurs? Mademoiselles?" one of them asked.

"Please," Chef Maxwell answered.

In one synchronized motion, the four servers expertly poured the peach sauce onto the cotton candy to

reveal what was underneath.

"Do I smell tapuey?" the elderly man said.

"Yes, sir," I answered, unsure of myself.

"Holy shit," I heard the youngest judge say under her breath.

Chef Maxwell chuckled. "Language, Samantha."

"Language? Look at this!"

To be frank, I wasn't sure if my dish would work or not. I baked a soft chiffon cake and mimicked the

taste of the local bibingka as much as possible. I baked it to resemble the shape of the mountainous

part of the Cordillera region, the place where I watched the sunrise with Jiwoo and the subject of the

painting we saw in the central dining area.

I'd covered some parts of the cake with brown and green chocolate sauce to create the greenery. I also

made a traditional Chinese delicacy called dragon's beard candy from pine nuts and peanuts and

draped it all over the cake.

I intended to use the cotton candy to imitate the fog, but I figured it would disappear when I pour peach

sauce on it. However, some of the cotton candy didn't fully melt. Instead, they clung onto the dragon's

beard candy, creating a more realistic-looking fog. I also placed some crushed praline made of cashew

nuts along the mountain to appear as rocks and boulders.

"How can we eat something like this?" demanded the young judge. "It's blasphemy to destroy this! This

is art!"

Upon hearing those words, I felt relieved. Jiwoo squeezed my shoulder.

The woman in the business suit and the elderly man were not saying anything.

Chef Maxwell invited them to take their first bites. Without warning, the elderly man started crying. Chef

Maxwell beckoned me to approach the table.

I noticed that the older female judge was dabbing her eyes with the table napkin.

"What's wrong, Chief?" Chef Maxwell asked the elderly man.

"I'm just happy," he said. "This is the same bibingka my late mother would make us for merienda. I love

her, and this dish made me remember her and how we'd play at the mountaintop early in the morning,

wishing the fog would give way to the sun."

I couldn't help but tear up, too, like the crybaby I was. When someone reacts to your food the way the

elderly man did, it's pure bliss.

The Chief stood up and walked unsteadily toward me. He thanked me and suddenly took me in a hug.

The older lady then came and did the same thing. She was sobbing. The youngest judge followed suit

and told me how amazing I was.

Suffice to say, their compliments overwhelmed me. I was thankful for having seen the painting and

getting inspiration from it.

"Mayor Alcantara, Samantha, Chief," Chef Maxwell said to the panelists. "These are my apprentices,

the future top chefs of the Philippines."