Desert 1: Mille Feuille and "Little Masters": Part II

The slate haired owner hissed and was about to chuck the plate at Faustus when he finally picked up a silver desert fork. "Get out of here you creepy spider," barked Ciel. He had never been so embarrassed in his life, not even Faustus dared to say things like that to him. He was Vincent Phantomhive's son, the owner of Funtom toys and Phantom Enterprises and Holdings. His mother was the belle of the ball, a socialite who could get just about anything done, the pair together were unstoppable. He was a noble among the rich and powerful, never in his life had he been called a brat. "Hey Ciel, let it go, we can always find someone else," Alois commented. Ciel leaned back in his chair and grumbled, "Yes of course, 14th time's the charm," he hissed before tossing the silver fork on the table. It landed with a clatter as it barely missed the beautifully plated tower called a Mille Feuille.

Presentation wise it was gorgeous; the flaky thin pastry was a beautiful golden brown, lightly dusted with sugar. Each layer was put together with an alternating pattern between small strawberries and tufts of cream. The strawberry purée was streaked on the plate to give it a little color and a single succulent strawberry rested on the top of the tower. Alois picked up the fork and asked, "If you're not going to eat it, can I try it?" Ciel waved his hand and nodded, "Knock your self out."

Faustus bowed before turning on his heel and returning to the kitchen. He didn't think the young chef would have that kind of mouth on him. Then again Sebastian had responded curtly to him in the kitchen when they spoke. Standing at the station which was now clean, oddly Sebastian had the courtesy to clean it which surprised him a little, he watched the young man pack up his clean utensils. He adjusted his silver rimmed glasses and looked at the second tower of a Mille Feuille which rested on the table. "I made too much, throw it out if you want," Sebastian muttered as he slipped his pastry edge into the black bag. Faustus was silent as he watched the man pack his things, there was something wrong with this picture. Sebastian didn't look sad, more like he was fed up, irritated and honestly exhausted. Most chefs looked crestfallen after facing the merciless Ciel. "You know they told me in school that when I got into the world critics would be harsh, but one would think that they would taste the dish before cutting you to piece," growled Sebastian as he zipped the bag closed. It was only then Faustus realized Ciel hadn't tasted it, "It's cruel out there," he commented as he watched the raven hairedchef swing his knife bag over his shoulder. Sebastian heaved a sigh and looked at Faustus, his shoulders dropped, and he ran his hand through his black hair. "Well it was nice to give it a try, even if the little master didn't appreciate it," he commented before turning around and disappearing through the back entrance.

Once the pastry chef disappeared from view Claude turned his attention to the second plate of Mille Feuille. It was perfectly plated, pleasing to the eye and looked delicious. He began to wonder what Ciel was thinking by refusing to simply taste it. Claude reached into the pocket of his chef's coat and pulled out a gold fork. "It would be a waste to throw away a Mille Feuille this beautiful," he commented. The fork slipped through the pastry cleanly, and he noticed the number of flaky layers in the dough. The sweet smell of vanilla, strawberries and cream filled his nose as he took a bite. His eyes widened as he looked at the dish, "So that is what you are capable of," he whispered before taking another bite. He had gravely underestimated the chef who had been in the kitchen. He rose from his stool and walked toward the door, Alois was going to taste it, that would be a waste. The desert was meant for Ciel, he could tell from the taste.

Claude walked out of the kitchen and stood before the pair, "What the hell are you doing out here Claude, shouldn't you be prepping for this evening?" asked Ciel curtly. Alois paused and looked at the head chef. Claude drew a deep breath, he knew he would pay for this later, but he couldn't stand watching talent wasted, even if it was in the form of the arrogant Sebastian Michaelis. "Ciel, I think you should at least taste it," said Claude after a moment. There was silence in the dinning room, "He wasted my time in there, there was frozen dough in the freezer," Ciel spat. Claude sighed, he could still remember how Sebastian worked the dough by hand and folded it with ease. There was no way that puff pastry could be mistaken as frozen, even when looked at. "Just taste it, you'll see why," Claude urged Ciel. The young man grumbled before picking the fork from Alois' fingers and dipping into the pastry. His eyes widened as he cleanly cut into it, there were flaky layers, and he noticed the cream had some body to it. It was a beautiful golden brown all the way through, most of the time the frozen dough was over cooked or soggy. He lifted the fork to his lips and froze, his sapphire eye fell to the plate, and he looked shocked and confused for a moment. "This is a Mille Feuille?" he asked after a moment as he looked at the dish. Claude nodded and watched as the young man chewed and swallowed before taking another bite.

The pastry was perfect it was flaky yet melted in the mouth when chewed. It wasn't doughy, wet or heavy; the pastry was light, fluffy and ever so wonderful. The cream was light and airy, yet maintained some body. It wasn't too sweet, and the vanilla hadn't over powered it. The cored strawberries finished it off with a little zing, "What would this be pared with?" asked Ciel after a moment as he tapped the tip of the fork to his lips. Claude smiled and picked up the tin of Earl Gray Tea, "This or coffee," he remarked. Ciel was silent, it was clear at that moment the young man was wrong; Sebastian did make something he wanted to eat. Alois purred after popping a piece in his mouth, "This is amazing, Ciel why did you tell him to get out?" Claude's golden eyes were locked on Ciel, they were fierce and filled with the same heat as the fires of the kitchen ovens. "You are a fool to push him out," said Claude coldly, "He could bring us back to the forefront."

Ciel paused, he could tell the young man was thinking this over, "It would be nice to be the front runner," Ciel mused. Claude smiled a little, he would never tell Sebastian that he had convinced Ciel to allow him to work there. Yet, he couldn't allow the chef who reminded him of the power of food to simply walk out. Perhaps a little more fire in the kitchen would be good, it had been a while since Ciel had seen this kind of action. "Claude, go call up that bastard of a pastry chef," Ciel groaned, "Tell him he's got the job." Claude nodded and walked up to Soma who already had the file out. The head chef sighed as he dialed the number and muttered, "Michaelis, you better thank me for this."

The wind blew down the river, and Sebastian shivered as he leaned on one of the banisters of the Millennium Bridge. He had never been treated in such a way; he was the best of his class at Le Cordon Bleu, known for his meticulous methods and execution. He sighed as he ran one of his hands through his messy ink black hair, "I was a fool to think I would find a job in London, I should have stayed in Paris," he muttered. There, he could have worked in any pastry shop, a small quiet shop on a corner. He had dreamed of such a shop, however with the debts his father had accumulated, that wasn't possible. He would have to settle for working in a restaurant like Ciel. It was a shame, Ciel was such a beautiful place, and the owner was just as gorgeous.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by the loud ring of his phone. It made the young chef jump a little, he wasn't expecting a call. In fact, it seemed far too odd to have a phone call in the middle of the day, since a majority of his friends worked at night and was usually asleep this hour of the day. He fished his cell phone out of his pocket and looked at the display, he didn't recognize the number. It was probably another debt collector; he pressed the answer button and lifted the chunky black device to his ear. "Hello, this is Sebastian Michaelis," he said almost robotically. He braced himself in case it was another debt collector. "Ah, Mr. Michaelis, this is Chef Faustus from Ciel. I'm calling to inform you, that you have the job," the caller said smoothly. Sebastian's red eyes widened with shock, he had been so unprofessional and went as far as to storm out of the back door. He was actually going to work at Ciel. "What?" he asked in shock, his hand covered his lips as an infectious smile curved them. "I said you've been hired, oddly enough your Mille Feuille impressed him to the point that he decided you were the only one for the job," stated the head chef. Sebastian's heart swelled a little, he did make the right decision. He smiled brightly as he looked out over the horizon, "I see, thank you for calling me, when do I start?" he asked curiously.

There was a paused and Sebastian could hear Mr. Faustus talking to someone in the background, "How about tomorrow?" he asked after a moment. Sebastian was about to jump and scream yes with glee, however, that would be just about as professional as when he stormed out of the kitchen earlier. "I can do that, what time?" he asked after a moment. Different restaurants opened their doors in the morning at different times for chefs to come in and prepare. "Since I am relatively unfamiliar with pastries I would like you to be there at 9 am, to pick out the supplies you need from our Grower," responded Faustus. Sebastian nodded as he hummed; he forgot that the golden eyed chef couldn't see him. "Sure, thank you so much," said Sebastian happily. Perhaps things would work out. Faustus sighed and responded, "Don't be late," prior to hanging up. Sebastian was happy he had received the job only to realize that he was now going to have to deal with the Head Chef, C. Faustus. Faustus didn't seem like a bad guy, he was just irritating; his constant jabs at Sebastian's decisions drove him up the wall. Yet, he was nowhere near as insulting as the 20-year-old owner Ciel Phantomhive.

Naturally Sebastian had heard the name, everyone who was in cuisine had. The 20-year-old restaurant owner was known for his tight ship and elegant style. He had started the restaurant in a response to a column in the Starr. They had been going after Vincent Phantomhive and his lack of knowledge of wine and French cuisine, Ciel was going down hill. When it had first opened Vincent opened it as a hobby and named it after his son. Oddly they had managed to gain 5 Michelin stars after being open for a year. It was known as a gem in the crown of London and even made the French incessantly jealous. The only issue was after the recession fewer and fewer people could afford to eat out. This caused a decrease in revenue which inadvertently affected the food. Ciel from what Sebastian had read was going to bring the restaurant out of the ashes and turn it into the once again the most highly respected restaurant in London. The snag was he was difficult to deal with. In fact, none of the papers had mentioned his rotten personality, which was something that Sebastian was irritated with. Even if he was a successful business man, he should never treat a chef like that.

Then again, he must have done something right, he was hired for a Mille Feuille. He paused when he remembered Ceil hadn't eaten it, he must have tasted it after Sebastian had left. At the table the young man didn't seem too keen on eating it, part of him wondered why the young man had even bothered with it. He didn't seem the least bit interested when the dish was placed before him. "No let's not over think this, be happy you have the job you ponse," he whispered before walking down the Millennium Bridge toward a brighter future. Or at least that's what he thought.