~ A completely unnecessary disaster Tony will never forget ~
Tony Bellingham had faced mafia debts( actually kai faced it), reincarnation(somehow, he faced that), corporate board meetings(only once), and Clara and Mai's sus questions( well, some of her sus questions… but nothing prepared him for this.
Nothing.
Because today… he was going to cook.
Correction: He was going to learn how to cook. And this brilliant idea came from none other than Uncle Jovi, the family's eccentric, highly energetic chef who wore flaming dragon aprons and claimed salt was "the holy element of flavor."
Jovi was the owner of King Diner, a very famous restaurant in the U.S, it had that godly aroma filling the room, the classic red rose in a vase on top the table and the bell at the door( He really liked bells as a kid).
"I have never in my 50 years met a Bellingham who couldn't whip up a damn soufflé!" Uncle Jovi declared, slapping a ladle against his palm like a battle weapon. "It's time we change that, son!"
Tony stared blankly at the kitchen counter, which was already packed with more ingredients than he knew what to do with. Eggs. Butter. Mystery herbs labeled "DO NOT EAT RAW." A suspicious-looking fish with eyes that still blinked. A live lobster crawling near the espresso machine.
"This feels like a war zone," Tony muttered.
"That's because cuisine is war," Jovi shouted dramatically, pointing to the heavens. "Now, put on your apron, Rookie Chef T-Bell!"
Tony....well kai didn't want to. The apron had the words "Hot Stuff Coming Thru" written in glitter.
Round 1: The Omelette Showdown
"Step one: Crack the eggs," Jovi instructed.
Easy enough, right?
Wrong.
Tony cracked the egg directly onto the counter.
"Not on the counter! In the bowl! What kind of heathen—!"
Tony wiped his hands on the apron. "The egg betrayed me."
Jovi sighed deeply, like a man carrying the weight of generations of ruined breakfasts. "Alright. Let's try again. Gently. Like massaging the truth out of a crooked politician."
Tony successfully cracked the next egg… shell and all, into the bowl.
"Close enough," Jovi grunted.
They moved to the stove. Jovi demonstrated a perfect flip of the omelette. Tony, in a burst of misplaced confidence, tried to do the same… and catapulted the egg disc into the air like a frisbee.
It landed on the chandelier.
And stayed there.
Staring down at them.
"Don't look at it," Jovi whispered. "It can smell fear."
"Huh????"
(Since when did egg's smell fear?)
Round 2: Pasta Panic
Jovi brought out the pasta machine. "Alright, now we make the dough."
Tony dumped flour everywhere.
"Not on me!" Jovi coughed, turning into a walking snowman.
Tony shrugged. "It's snowing. In Italy."
Rolling the dough turned into a cardio workout, especially since Tony tried using a wine bottle instead of a rolling pin. (He didn't know where the real one was. Neither did Jovi. It's possible it had run away.)
Then came the pasta cutter. Tony forgot to flour it first. The dough stuck. It jammed. The machine groaned.
"Abort mission!" Jovi yelled as spaghetti strings exploded like party streamers.
A blob of dough slapped Tony across the face. He looked like an undercooked lasagna.
He just gave a thumbs-up.
Round 3: The Flaming Dessert Finale
"Let's finish with something simple," Jovi said, looking 10 years older. "Crème brûlée."
"Sounds fancy," Tony said.
"It means 'burnt cream.'"
Tony blinked. "We're… making burnt stuff on purpose?"
Jovi nodded. "Now we torch it."
They brought out the culinary blowtorch.
Tony aimed it like a space gun. "This thing has fire, right?"
"Yes. Controlled fire."
Tony pulled the trigger.
It was not controlled.
The flame burst out like a dragon. The nearest curtains sizzled. A cabinet handle melted. The fire alarm screamed.
But Tony screamed louder.
Jovi dove across the kitchen, tackled Tony, and sprayed a fire extinguisher in all directions. The crème brûlée ended up looking like a melted candle in a snowstorm.
"...we did it," Tony panted, covered in foam and dignity loss.
"You passed," Jovi said, with tears in his eyes. "You truly are a Bellingham."
Later that night...
The maids, the butler, the cleaning team, and a confused security guard gathered in the destroyed kitchen. There was flour on the ceiling. Pasta in the air vent. A lone lobster on the chandelier.
Tony stood proudly, holding the one thing that survived:
A slightly burnt toast.
(Slightly..... indeed)
He grinned. "Dinner is served."
Everyone stared at it.
Then the chandelier omelette finally fell.
Right onto the sweet toast.
Uncle Jovi burst into applause.
"PERFECTION."
(And it was ....Truly Perfection)