Ask Chef Gregor

Noxus military's Head Chef. Also a Quartermaster. Officers get fine cooking, grunts get beef stew.

[chefgregor]

Homecoming

Someone squeaks in the kitchen. It’s a very distinct little noise, laced with sheer terror, that cuts through the usual hustle and bustle of the kitchen, alerting the rest of the brigade. The cooks look up from their station at the source of the sound.

“Ch-Chef’s here!” The commis stutters, eyes wide in shock.

The chef raises an eyebrow. “Huh? What are you talking about, Paul, I’ve been here all along.”

Something about the way most of the crew suddenly stands at attention ticks him off. He turns away from his station to look at what everybody is gawking at, to find three men standing in the back entrance. The one in the middle, dark haired and much shorter, steps forward and takes a deep inhale.

“What in the sweet ever loving suffering fuck is going on here?” He bellows. “Here I was, actually looking forward to coming back to this kitchen, but fuck if I expected to find such a shithole!”

“And who might you be?” The chef asks, squaring his shoulders.

“Who am I? Who am-- Martin, who the fuck is this joker?”

“Don’t know, Chef,” Martin shrugs. He’s a tall beanstalk of a man, ducking underneath the door frame.

“Probably new ‘round here,” the last one speaks up.

“Must be. Right. I’m Quartermaster General Fabre.” His voice shifts to a much more sensible tone as he walks up to the chef. “I’ll be taking over this kitchen, you’re relieved of your duties for the time being. Talk with Gauthier here,” he juts a thumb at the last man to speak, built like a battering ram, “and we’ll have your next assignment sent to you shortly.”

“... yes, sir,” the chef says dejectedly.

“Now, the rest of you... you should know I expected much better than this. I’m gone for...” He glances down at his wristwatch, “...six years, and somehow you disgusting maggots turn this place into an absolute shambles. I’m not having this. So! We’re going to clean this place from floor to ceiling, and I want it to fucking sparkle! We’ll stay here and scrub for as long as we have to until this kitchen shines so bright the Shurimans think the Sun shines out of my gods damned stove, understood?”

“Yes, Chef!” The cooks grin at each other knowingly. Chef’s back.

“Then get to work!”

[sheriff-caitlyn]

By the Book (with chefgregor)

[sheriff-caitlyn]

"And I was doing my job, too. Off the books this time," she adds with a smile, and gives a small brief chuckle at the unintended pun. "A pleasure to cut my teeth in Noxus, though I’m sorry I could not recover more."

She pauses, clearing her throat, folding one arm behind her back. “As for the ‘who’… I’m not 100% certain I have anything definitive. The three men who perpetrated most of the robbery were after something useful. The fourth, however, was something of an educated man. Someone who knew that, heavy as they are, books are worth a good deal more than most would assume. It might have been him who started the fire, to cover his tracks; it might have been an accident on behalf of his companions.”

She pulls a folded slip of paper out of a pocket and holds it out to Gregor. “I wrote down my observations and general hypotheses about the identities of the individuals, though - as I said - I have nothing definitive. A personality profile can be stretched to fit anyone, sir, and I would hate to make you paranoid.” Her expression goes somewhat stony for a moment. “But I believe the one who stole the books from you is someone who may work for you. I’m sorry.”

[chefgregor]

Gregor reached for the piece of paper and stuffed it in his pocket, his frown deepening as she talked. When she was done, he gave a weary smile and a nod. “Paranoia is something I’m used to. I don’t trust many people.” He glanced over his shoulder with a joyless chuckle. “See, not having faith in people has its perks. I’m never disappointed.” His expression hardened. “I don’t have time for disappointment.”

It took him a moment to tone down his anger and unclench his fists. If he was not disappointed, he was certainly angry, incredibly so. He took a deep breath. “Again, thank you for your help, Sheriff. If I can help you in any way, please let me know.”

[sheriff-caitlyn]

By the Book (with chefgregor)

[sheriff-caitlyn]

Her smiles widens. “I’m very glad to hear that, sir. And very glad that it was, indeed, the weapon in question.” She slides the canvas bag from her shoulder, setting it down on a nearby table. “I also took the liberty of checking a few bookstores around Noxus. You know, sometimes I appreciate a criminal who knows that there are things more valuable than shiny stones and coins. Makes my job a lot more… interesting.”

She starts to pull books out from the bag, setting them on the table. Some of them would be familiar to Gregor, while others were not. All of them were cookbooks of some variety, mostly hand-written manuscripts or collections rather than printed-press copies; all were the first-hand accounts of cooks and gourmands.

She unpacks about eight tomes in total. “I’m not sure if they were all yours, sir, but… well, consider them a gift from Piltover’s ambassadors, in gratitude for the splendid meal.” She taps the brim of her hat, and gives a low chuckle.

[chefgregor]

The cook frowned as he put down the sword carefully. He glanced at the books, three of them rare copies, coming straight from his bookshelves. He picked one and ran his thumb on the cover, recognizing the familiar feeling of the leather binding. There was no words for how grateful he felt. “And here I thought everything went up in smoke with the house…”

He looked up at her. “You shouldn’t have, Sheriff. I was merely doing my job.” He smiled lightly. “Still, thank you. These are my most valuable possessions. I am... extremely grateful.” His expression darkened. “One last thing, if I may. About those responsible…” He stopped in the middle of his sentence, but the question was obvious. He needed to know.

[chefgregor]

// Sorry for being so inactive as of late. I have no excuse. Your friendly neighborhood grumpy cook will be back soon with more in character food porn and Noxian patriotic feels.

In the meantime, here's a sketch of Gregor!

[sheriff-caitlyn]

By the Book (with chefgregor)

[sheriff-caitlyn]

"Well, I hope it’s the kind of good news that more than makes up for it." She smiles, setting the bag down at hip-height, so she can carefully withdraw a sword in scabbard. "Is this the weapon you spoke of?"

[chefgregor]

He wiped his big paws on his apron and reached cautiously for the weapon. Once it was in his hands, he weighed it with an appreciative nod, drew it from the scabbard and examined the blade. The hint of a smile surfaced on his lips. "Yes, it is the right sword." He sheathed it.

"A fine piece of work for a fine officer. It was my father's." He nodded. "You have all of my thanks, Sheriff. I am deeply indebted."

[sheriff-caitlyn]

By the Book (with chefgregor)

[sheriff-caitlyn]

She gives a wry smile, tapping the brim of her hat as the soldiers vacate the area, then heads towards the source of the rumbling roar. An amusing image popped into her head of entering a bear’s den, but she schooled her expression so that no such amusement showed in her face.

"Gregor, sir? It’s Ms Huxley, of Piltover. Apologies for disrupting you at the tail end of such a busy day, but I have some good news for you." She shifts, adjusting the duffle bag on her shoulder.

[chefgregor]

Gregor turned to face the Sheriff as he released the ear of his assistant. "Ah, Sheriff. I did not expect to see you again so soon. Don't worry, you're not disrupting me. Unlike these slackers." He glanced at the bag, and his face brightened slightly. "I'm actually glad you're here. I could use some good news after a day dealing with these loafers."

[sheriff-caitlyn]

By the Book (with chefgregor)

[sheriff-caitlyn]

"Piltover proud."

It’s a long day, and the Piltovians are kept busy with the machines they’ve brought, the medical tents they’ve erected, and the general curiosity that they do their best to answer between their essential tasks. Fresh water and free medical treatment certainly helped make a good first impression.

Caitlyn doesn’t return until very late that evening, a duffle bag slung over one shoulder. She banters with a few of the soldiers who are hanging around Gregor’s kitchen, enduring the painfully-obvious flirting and crude remarks with a lady’s practiced grace, and a few disarming statements of her own.

"Is Gregor still here? If not, I’ll come back before breakfast."

[chefgregor]

The soldiers glanced at each other with eloquent looks. "That grumpy imp is definitely good at making friends in high places..." A burst of coarse laughter. "Yes, Sheriff, you will find the Chef inside," said one of them, pointing at the bustling tent. "Be careful, he has had a long rough day, he might snarl and bite."

As an echo to the grunt's comment, a gruff, roaring voice thundered from under the pavillion. "Well... good luck, Sheriff." The officer saluted, barked a brief order to his men, and the place was clear in the blink of an eye.

[sheriff-caitlyn]

By the Book (with chefgregor)

[sheriff-caitlyn]

She inclines her head, a momentary flicker of something like understanding across her features. “This city is a big place,” she murmurs, partly warning and partly conversational. “Who knows what we may find?”

She taps the brim of her hat, then politely excuses herself and returns to the delegation. There was still a few things that needed to be discussed - and more food to finish - before the Piltovians could go about the tasks they had come here to do.

[chefgregor]

Gregor stuck a cigarette between his lips with a brief nod and scratched a match against his chin. "It is indeed." Smoke soon began to meld with the thin mist he slowly exhaled. "Take care, Sheriff," he mumbled with a solemn salute. "You know where to find me if you need anything. Forever strong."

He watched as she went back to her business, then rubbed his hands together. There was work waiting for him, and now that he was slightly less concerned about his own personal issues, he could fully dedicate himself to it. 

[sheriff-caitlyn]

By the Book (with chefgregor)

[sheriff-caitlyn]

Caitlyn inclines her head. “I’m sure my partner will very much enjoy that. My father, likewise.” There’s a small, considerate pause, and she lowers her voice to ask, “Is there anything of significance that you would like to see returned, if possible?”

[chefgregor]

The chef took a second to think about it, and nodded briefly. "Yes," he mumbled. "A sword. It's valuable, I don't think they would have let it burn. It was a Noxian officer's saber." A long, weary sigh escaped him. "My family recipes are all gone, but if you can find the sword... there're initials engraved on the blade. B.F. It's a well made piece, you can't miss it."

[sheriff-caitlyn]

By the Book (with chefgregor)

[sheriff-caitlyn]

She studies him, seeing in his posture and gesture what he wasn’t saying, as well as what he was. She nods, in utmost seriousness; she understood pride better than most people. “Of course, sir. But the Piltovian relief force is here to help Noxus, is it not? And I came along with them.” A thin smile. “Still, as more of a diplomat, I suppose I’ll be spending more time wandering around the city, seeing the sights, as I’m not much of an engineer or a doctor.” It was a way out, of sorts; for her to help without it being ‘help’.

[chefgregor]

He remained silent, staring at her with a frown. He knew what that meant. What she was doing. It was smart, subtle, and it suited him perfectly. He tried to find something to say as he looked down at his shoes. The guilt was still there, but it was more bearable.

"You should see the Shoutheast quarter. Quite nice to visit, and I think your partner might appreciate the pubs. Just don't mind the smoking ruins in Vexallian Square."

[sheriff-caitlyn]

By the Book (with chefgregor)

[sheriff-caitlyn]

Both eyebrows shoot up. ”Ashes? Good sir, if your home is ashes, that sounds a good deal more serious than ‘ransacked’.” Her eyes gleam a little brighter, the insult more keenly felt. Then she remembers herself, and does her best to tone the empathy down a notch or two. “… dare I ask… was anyone hurt?”

[chefgregor]

Gregor crossed his arms on his barrel chest, as in an attempt to shield himself from the looming feelings he had put so much efforts into avoiding. He was grateful for her genuine concern and her kindness, but he couldn't ignore the stinging sentiment of guilt at the back of his neck. There were other people who couldn't manage as well as him. Maybe they needed help more than he did. "I don't really like amplifying my problems, ma'am. Nor talking about them." A sigh escaped him.

"No one was home when they burned the house. Fortunately." After a brief glance to make sure no one was eavesdropping, he turned back to the Sheriff. "Look... I do appreciate your offer, ma'am, but I'd prefer you don't tell anyone you're helping me."

[chefgregor]

Gregor’s raucous voice boomed in the kitchen amongst the rattle of utensils, barking orders to his staff. He strode from table to table, inspecting every dish, tasting this sauce, smelling that pot. This was a most unusual day. They were cooking for the elite. The slightest mistake, and he would lose his job, and most likely his head at the same time. He could feel the heavy pressure on his shoulders, but he had to keep a cool head. This was a challenge for him. The perfect occasion to demonstrate his skills, his ability to run a kitchen and manage a large staff. He could prove useful.

He was, in fact, quite proud of what he had come up with. He had composed a menu with the finest dishes Noxian cuisine had to offer. The scents of food floating in the air alone were a reward for his hard work. As he gave a look to his pocket watch, a small, satisfied smile appeared. A rare sight. He could even allow himself a short break.

Charity gala's menu

Hors d’oeuvres

Avocado and salmon tartare

Carrot and avocado salad, with reblochon cheese and Kumungu oranges

Crème brûlée au foie gras

Main courses

Duck filet and pears in honey sauce

Noxian endive tart

Rock lobster gratin with morels and truffles

Desserts

Glazed nougat

Red berries sorbet

Floating Island on its pistachio cream

[chefgregor]

Gregor carefully watched the meat cooking. It was that time of the year, when Martin hummed seasonal tunes and the kitchen was bustling with cooks and aids preparing the traditional Snowdown meal. Even the grumpy Chef couldn't help feeling a little bit cheerful. He did not mind the huge load of work as long as he was behind his stove.

In the mess hall, soldiers and officers alike were gathering around the tables, eager to taste what the kitchen staff had been working on during the morning.

Officers menu

Duck dumplings

Deer steak and parsnips in their cherry sauce

Figs and speculoos tiramisu

Troops menu

Salmon-stuffed avocado

Shepherd's pie with truffle sprinkles

Kumungu fruits Snowdown log

[sheriff-caitlyn]

By the Book (with chefgregor)

[sheriff-caitlyn]

"Ransacked?" Her smile stays where it is, but her eyes grow sharp. Affronted, even, as though the news of a crime perpetrated in even another nation is personally insulting. "Good sir, my sincerest condolences…" She tilts her head slightly as she retrieves her hand from him. "I take it that there has been no good news regarding it since then."

She pauses, glancing to her partner and her father, then back to Gregor. “Piltover is here to help,” she says, slowly, cautiously, not wanting to insult Noxian pride. “And I am a detective, sir. Perhaps, if it would not be intrusive, I might be able to assist you?”

[chefgregor]

Help. He did not need any help. Not from strangers, not from anyone. The Fabre solved their problems themselves. And yet, part of him wanted to accept the offer. He hunched his shoulders, uneasy. He couldn't find the responsibles on his own anyway. All of this was new to him. People were not usually kind. They did not sympathise with him. And it was fine. This was the Noxian way.

"There can't be any good news with all the problems we have to face." He lowered his eyes, swallowing his pride. "The house is nothing but a pile of ashes now, ma'am. I don't think there'd be any evidence left... Not that I doubt your talent."

[chefgregor]

A hastily written note is pinned on the door of the cellar at the attention of the sauce-chef Martin.

"Can't be there today. Lots of work at the warehouse. Budget tight, no unnecessary expense. Groceries list attached. Here's today's menu. If there's a problem, I am at my office.

Officers:

Quiche (1 slice per person, careful with rationning)

Ratatouille

Apple cake (put chocolate chips if there is enough left)

Troops:

Beef stew

Ration biscuits

Can't do better, have to be caution with portions. If soldiers complain, give them cheap ale. Don't forget to lock the doors tonight. Careful for looters.

G. Fabre"

[sheriff-caitlyn]

By the Book (with chefgregor)

"I felt it would be appropriate to take the time to thank you myself, sir." She offers her hand to shake. "You’ve made our little delegation feel quite welcome here - beg pardon for my partner’s manners, but she’s the exception that proves the rule - and I really appreciate that. My father too, but you’ve spoken to him already…"

She pauses a moment, and studies the man. Her eyes and smile lose the brightness of cheer for a moment, and she looks serious, and thoughtful. Discerning.

"… Forgive me for prying, but you seem somewhat distracted. And clearly not to do with the delegation, given the way you keep looking back towards the city." She pauses, and clears her throat. "… is everything alright, sir?"

[chefgregor]

Gregor's eyes widened in genuine surprise. He was not used to gratitude, especially not coming from strangers. There was never a "thank you" for him. He was only doing his job, after all, why would anyone thank him? And yet, here she was, smiling at him. She remembered the insignificant cook, even though they had only exchanged barely more than a few words. He took her hand in his big, scarred paw and shook it firmly, as he would with an equal, with someone he had respect for.

"It's only natural, ma'am. I'm the one who should thank you for the help in the kitchen. It's been a pleasure."

The faint smile on his face faded. Observant, she was. He frowned.

"Well, I..." He glanced back. "I have quite my share of problems... my house's been ransacked and..." A sudden stop. He was not the whiny kind. "Sorry," he grunted. "Shouldn't be telling you that."

[chefgregor]

"I just can't help it. I have to cook. Did you really expect me to step aside and let anyone decide what's on the menu?"

Candied onions

Tartiflette

Winter fruits salad