Absinthe

Chapter 29: How To Woo

"How is it?" I asked Robert as he took a spoonful of the soup that I had made in preparation for the

upcoming challenge.

Robert closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. "I plead guilty, your honor!"

"Hey, stop joking around. This is serious. I'll be on janitorial duty if I fail."

"It's amazing. No, it's not amazing. This is seriously good."

"I'm regretting calling you for this. I should have contacted people with more refined tastes like Faye or

Cassie."

I then remembered that Faye was still not talking to me. It's the longest fight we've had, and I didn't

really know how to resolve it. Meanwhile, Cassie was still MIA. Even her family didn't know where she

was!

"What's bothering you?" Robert, the ever-perceptive guy, asked. "Come on, you know you can talk to

me."

"Chef Maxwell said we are to present him with a dish that will signify our chosen culinary specialization,

which is what will define us and our approach in cooking. The problem is I don't really know what I am

as a chef."

"You make great desserts! That means you're a pâtissier, right? Isn't that the kind of specialization you

have?"

"No, it's not that," I answered dejectedly. I sat on the chair next to Robert and covered my face with my

hands. "Yes, I'd like to be a pâtissier, but we're talking about a cuisine specialization—French, Indian,

Chinese..."

"You're doing a lot of baking and a lot of sweets, so doesn't that fall under French cuisine?"

I looked up and saw confusion on Robert's face.

"You have a point. But the core aspect of French cuisine is the impeccable methods chefs use to

convert various ingredients into food. I don't really think that's my core as a chef."

"Why'd you say so?"

"Because I'm having too much fun reinventing French desserts. I get a high from discovering ways on

how to incorporate what I learned in class: all those chemicals found in the ingredients and techniques

that are just not traditional."

"Molecular gastronomy?"

"Yeah, you could say that. But I just don't know which cuisine my style falls under!" I said, exasperation

wearing me down.

Robert was quiet for a moment. Then, he started eating the main meal I made him, a medium-cooked

filet mignon with raspberry sauce.

"Ugh," he said, a choking sound escaping his throat.

"What's wrong?" I asked, immediately reaching for a glass of water in case he needed it.

"What is this?" Robert said with difficulty as he took several more bites.

"You like it? It's an experimental raspberry sauce. I'm not sure if sweet sauces pair up well with a steak,

but—"

"I get it now! I know what kind of chef you are!"

Huh? Did he mean my specialization? The cuisine that will signify who I am as a chef? The cuisine that

will influence all of my cooking?

"Your specialization is Filipino cuisine!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you joking? Is Filipino cuisine even a thing?"

"Yes, it is! And it's your cooking style!"

I couldn't help but take that as a slight insult. I mean, I'm proud to be a Filipino, but there's nothing

special about our food. We're just copycats of mostly Spanish cuisine and Chinese cuisine.

"You've lost me."

"Your food is always based on combinations of contrasting flavors: sweet, sour, and salty."

"How is that Filipino?"

"How is that not Filipino?"

"I still don't get you, Rob."

"Chicken and pork adobo. Sinigang na hipon. Kare-kare. Need I say more?"

I snatched Robert's plate and ate the last piece of steak there. Indeed, I had cooked the steak to a

perfect medium-rare, but the key point was the invisible scoring I made on all sides to allow the salty

flavor of the butter to seep in. The raspberry sauce was also tangy and sweet, which complemented

the saltiness of the steak. None of the three contrasting flavors stood out, but the dish was nothing

short of amazing. I was actually surprised. I couldn't believe I was the one who had made that dish.

"See what I mean?" Robert said with a grin. "And I learned about counterpoint from my mom's cooking.

It's also a main feature of Filipino cuisine, and it's present in all the food you make."

"Counterpoint?"

"Some of our dishes don't have the contrasting base of saltiness, sweetness, and sourness. So

instead, we eat them with a counterpoint. For example, we normally eat champorado with tuyo."1

He was right. The sweetness of chocolate rice porridge is perfectly complemented by salted, sun-dried

fish.

"Dinuguan with sweet puto!" I said excitedly, citing another example.

Dinuguan is a pork dish where fatty cuts of a pig are stewed in its blood. Filipinos typically pair that with

a sweet, steamed rice cake called puto.

"Right! Puto even counters itself when it's topped with cheese."

"But is that how I cook all my food?" I asked, doubt starting to dampen my happy spirits.

"Yes!" Robert answered confidently. "Remember the crème caramels you served us? You said you

revised the recipe because you weren't satisfied with what you did during the selections."

"Oh, yeah. I added salt to the caramel for the sugar dome and made it contrast with the sweetness of

the crème caramel."

Robert smiled, and I naturally smiled back.

"I guess that's definitely my genre: Filipino cuisine!"

"I'm happy for you."

"Thanks, Rob. I couldn't have figured it out without you."

Before I knew it, Robert had swept me up in a tight embrace.

"I missed you so much," he whispered to my ear. "You've been busy these past three months, but I

didn't dare disturb you because I knew you were having a great time."

"..."

"But I really wanted to see you. I wanted to call you. I wanted to take you out on dates."

My hands moved on their own until I was hugging Robert back.

"You told me I'm allowed to woo you, but your schedule didn't give me a chance to do anything."

"Well, you certainly wooed me today," I said, chuckling. "Who the fuck uses the word woo? It sounds

stupid."

"Like your new friend Jiwoo. I'm glad you stopped pretending to be boyfriends with him on IG."

I detached myself from Robert. How on earth did he manage to introduce that asshole into the

conversation? I was already feeling all fuzzy for him, but he had ruined it by mentioning that forbidden

name.

"If you stop sending me flowers and chocolates, I'll find time for you."

Robert's face lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah," I said. "In fact, I think you deserve a date because of how you helped me today."

I could tell he was beyond happy with what I had said.

"You know," I continued. "Chef Maxwell told us that if we win this challenge, he'd cook us and a guest

of our choice a full 14-course meal."

"Yeah? Maxwell's cooking it himself?"

"Yes. You in?"

"It's a date then."

"Alright!" I said before planting a soft kiss on his cheek. I don't know why I did it, but I felt so fond of him

at that moment.

"I earned that, didn't I?"

I punched him lightly on the shoulder. Maybe Faye was right. Perhaps I was better off dating people of

the same economic status as me. I couldn't believe I had actually fallen hard for a certain someone

after he kissed me. I was a fool, and I deserved what happened.

But that was all in the past now. I was ready to give the Robert-BJ ship a chance.