[Archived: 2020-07-09] Testing Testing

The gamy aroma of Ruskainan boar, the muscadine smells of Dressrosan wine, the heady scent of Fishman Island’s rarest three-headed squids; these were all too overwhelming for the olfactory organs of a hungry man. And it was even more so the case with the man who had in fact hunted and brought along these ingredients with him, along with many other similarly rare ones. ”I must say, you make for a pretty useful Bishoku-ya, Gray-kun. I can’t remember the last time someone brought in so many rare ingredients, and the variety was much needed too. I’m feeling pretty confident about winning this contest.” Cassimo Mapra was a stubby man who was almost always wearing a dirty apron, the waist strings of which often hung loose clumsily. His twirly moustache had visible crumbs of bread and who-knows-what-else stuck in it, wiggling about in an ugly manner as he spoke. The aging man had lost most of his hair on top of his head, only left with a few solitary strands of brown hair that shared its color with his eyes and facial hair.

As the man lifted a large crate full of ingredients bigger than his size, his strength was made clear to any passer-bys on the crowded foodie street. ”I heard someone say that the competition has already started. Aren’t you going to be disqualified if you run too late?” The partner in the conversation was a black-cloaked man that dwarfed the shabby cook in size. His bare chiseled torso was a complete contrast to his bloated companion. With a robotic left arm replacing a missing limb, he was lifting a crate three times the size of the one that the fat cook was carrying. His pitch black cloak fluttered in the slight breeze, along with his slicked-back orangish-brown hair. The fur stitched over the cloak kept it from flying off his shoulders.

Around ten feet in height, he towered above almost everyone in the street, drawing suspecting eyes from the occasional pedestrian. However, most of the crowd seemed to be focused on moving in a single general direction. Near the end of the street was a massive tree, with a rustic structure wrapped around it. This seemed to be the destination of the majority of drooling folks that walked by him as he loaded the crate onto a hooded cart attached behind a grumpy black-haired yak. The large beast groaned in complaint, whipping her fluffy tail in a frenzy as she anticipated a hard day’s work ahead of her. ”My daughter’s already set up our stand next to all the other contestants in the main square. There are so many participants this time around that they couldn’t even fit them all in our massive tourney plaza. They had to find excuses to let so many of the local chefs go since they wanted to offer the foreigners a chance. But, I get along well enough with Hagel, so I’ve got a guaranteed spot on the list. Hagel is one of the organizers of the tournament and also the owner of the Kinship Mast.”

They could hear the ruckus from the plaza all the way down the street. But, the yells and cries seemed more like a battle than they did a friendly contest. This was because it was indeed a battle. The chefs of Pucci’s annual Love, Love Cook’s Cuisine Contest were very passionate and prideful about this event and saw it as a great opportunity to enhance their cooking skills whilst also representing their restaurants and advertising the products of their unique recipes. And the prizes were often worth participating for, even if there were little to no chance of winning. ”What’re the prizes this year, Cass-san?” The man coughed as he placed the final crate into the overloaded cart, closing the rear gate which could just barely keep the unevenly sized boxes from spilling out.

”They say one of the prizes is a centuries-old antique cutlery set that belonged to a famous pirate-chef. Honestly, I don’t much care for the prize. I just want to show off our recipes and impress the critics. Since I’m retiring soon, I wanted to give Cassie one final boost before she inherited the restaurant.” The taller man was slightly taken aback by the subtly-snuck news. ”You’re retiring and you're just now telling me? Not that Cassata isn’t ready to take over as head chef, but aren’t you a bit too young to be kicking up your feet?” Cassimo laughed heartily, the twirls of his moustache jumping up and down enthusiastically with the corners of his lips. ”MAAAPAPAPAPA! My love for cooking isn’t dead yet. My plan is to leave the Golden Appeal in Cassie’s care and then head out to sea in search of new ingredients. Who knows, I might end up a pirate like yourself in my late years… Mapapapapa~” Gray surrendered a defeated smile, walking alongside the yak as she began to move sluggishly, pulling the heavy cart behind her.

The roaring of the feisty chefs grew louder and louder as they approached the Kinship Mast, one ruckus amidst the chaos being painfully distinct from all the others. ”That’s Chef Gamsay and Chef Dupéré. They’re both excellent cooks, but they’ve got serious attitude problems. Especially that Gamsay, I’ve heard he even physically assaults his underlings that make the tiniest of mistakes. It could be hearsay, but from what I’ve seen of him, I’m inclined to believe it.’ The heated argument between the two chefs certainly lent some truth to Cassimo’s comment.

They quickly shuffled through the line of cooks to reach their stand, where Cassata, Cassimo’s nineteen year old daughter awaited them eagerly while having set up the utensils for Cassimo’s participation. When she spotted them approaching, she swiftly jogged to their side, excited as can be. ”Uncle Gray! I’m so glad you made it! Papa was going to lose the last of his hair worrying if you’d bring the ingredients in time. I hope you have time to stay for the tournament this year.” Gray smiled warmly at the tender welcome. He nodded and grinned before answering, ”Gehahaha~ I have plenty of time to spare. I’ll be sticking around to see if your father loses the last of his hair by the end of the event." The chef looked nervously to the far end of the stalls, his mind diverted to a second ruckus. ”I just might if we have to deal with so many noisy chefs this year.” When Gray directed his attention towards the commotion, he detected a somewhat familiar presence amidst the fuss. He decided against investigating, lest it be an unsavoury acquaintance from his past that he did not wish to be recognized by.