6.
Title: Heaven’s Kitchen
Pairing/Characters: Slight Masuda/Tegoshi
Rating/Warnings: G
Prompt: # 6 Restaurant critic AU
Summary: Massu, caught up in his job as a professional restaurant critic, takes a trip to the countryside and learns to unwind.
There was something off about the lasagna, Massu thought as he chewed his second mouthful. It wasn’t that it tasted bad - it was perfectly palatable - but there was something not quite right, something missing. Usually he’d let that slip, but for something that was supposed to be the restaurant special, that wasn’t up to standard. The meat sauce needed more vinegar, or more salt, or both, he decided, and the Chianti they’d paired it with needed to be just a touch warmer. Hopefully dessert would prove to be to a higher standard, because so far the restaurant had proved to be utterly average. It was good enough, yes - but not great.
Massu really did hope that they would pull it together in the dessert course, because he really did prefer to give restaurants good (or at least decent) reviews. He wasn’t a malicious person, but a critic had to be honest, and that meant being honest about the negative just as much as the positive. Besides, he had to think of his own reputation just as much as the restaurant’s; after many years, his opinion had finally begun to carry some weight in the world of restaurant critics, and he couldn’t go giving dishonest reviews just to spare every mediocre chef’s ego.
Fortunately, someone managed to get it together, serving up one of the best plates of tiramisu Massu had tasted in a long time. At least that gave him one thing to write home about - or at least, something to write in Tokyo Cuisine magazine about.
He’d lost track of how many reviews he’d published now. After just over five official years on the job, this would probably be number fify-something - though he’d written many more during his seven unofficial years. He’d started as a blogger, posting photos and reviews of the food in restaurants he’d visited as a hobby. He hadn’t really noticed the popularity creeping up on him until he’d started to appear in the number one spot on top rated and top read food blog lists.
People said there was something about his style of writing, a kind of candidness and honesty, occasionally punctuated by some subtle, underlying snark. Massu, however, just maintained that people liked food.
Back then, during his early years in university (which he later dropped out of to pursue this career) he’d gone to all the cheap, homely and humble restaurants. Recently, though, they’d been much higher class, which was probably why he was so unreasonably excited about the next project he had upcoming. It wasn’t so much a restaurant as a bed and breakfast type place that did dinner for the tiny number of guests it could house per night. A friend of his had stayed there recently and raved about the whole experience to him, so Massu figured, why not. If it was that good, then the least he could do was write them a glowing review and increase their business.
It was in a tiny town, not quite a village, in the countryside of Aichi prefecture, about as far away from Nagoya as you could get without crossing into Shizuoka. The first thing Massu noticed was the beautiful greenery, a refreshing change from the towering, grey buildings of Tokyo.
As expected of a family run bed and breakfast out in the middle of the country, it was a quaint little place, with a homey sort of feeling. The atmosphere had you unwinding before you were even checked-in, with a beautiful garden filled with blooming summer flowers and a small bamboo fountain.
Massu couldn’t help smiling. No wonder Nakamaru had liked this place - it was so peaceful, and with colleagues as insane as his (Massu had heard many stories) he had probably needed a little relaxing time.
Massu was greeted at the front desk by a boy about his age, with a cheery, almost mischievous smile, and an outfit far too fashionable for a country kid.
“Welcome, how can I help you?” His voice was a little more masculine than Massu had been expecting from someone with such a feminine face. “Are you checking in?”
“Um, yes. Booking for Masuda.”
Tegoshi Yuya - at least, that’s what it said on his nametag - flicked through his reservation book and nodded.
“Here you are. Let me show you to your room.”
His professional demeanor lasted all of another 30 seconds, until he relieved Massu of his bags and asked, “So, you’re the restaurant critic, right?”
It was lucky that Tegoshi had just taken his luggage, or Massu would have dropped it.
“What? How did you…”
The skin at the edge of Tegoshi’s eyes crinkled. “Nakamaru-kun said that he was going to recommend this place to you. We talked a lot while he was here. It’s not that common for anyone my age to pass through, so I’m always excited when someone does.”
Massu immediately got the impression that he’d be seeing a lot of Tegoshi during the next two days.
His theory already seemed to be coming true when, an hour later, Massu was pretty sure that Tegoshi had managed to share his entire life story while setting up the room.
“Anyway, I cook the meals here, so I hope you enjoy them. I guess I should tell you now that I haven’t had any professional training, but I have confidence in my abilities.”
Massu coughed. “Just… I don’t usually let people know that I’m a critic before they cook for me. If I do, I know they’d usually give me special treatment, and it kind of skews the results in the review…”
Tegoshi’s smile turned impish.
“Not to worry. I’d be giving you special treatment even if I didn’t know who you were,” he said, sugar sweet, then continued before Massu could figure out what he’d meant. “Dinner’s at 6pm sharp, don’t be late.”
And with that, he sauntered out of the room.
The B&B didn’t have a bath of its own, but guests were apparently welcome to use the public bath house down the road free of charge if they took their key, so Massu took advantage of the 2 hours before dinner to go and take a soak.
There was no one else at the bath house, so it was just him alone with his thoughts. He stretched out in the bath, leaning back against the edge of the tub.
Tegoshi was a strange kid, he decided. Nice enough, but totally strange - not that he wasn’t a bit weird himself, but Tegoshi was something else. He seemed so straight forward and honest, but at the same time, oddly difficult to figure out.
Massu decided to just forget about it for now and enjoy the hot water. Being native to Tokyo, he was accustomed to the fast-paced bustle of the city, so it was nice to slow down for once; body and mind.
Back at the B&B, dinner was not at 6pm sharp as Tegoshi had promised. He waited in the dining room with two elderly couple, plus one lone grandmother who talked his ear off the entire 15 minutes they sat waiting without leaving him room to get a word in edgeways, and Massu was too polite to interrupt.
Fortunately, Tegoshi did so for him when he finally wheeled their dinner in on a cart.
“Sorry to keep you waiting!” He sounded too chirpy for his apology to actually come across as apologetic, but there was something about his personality that begged you to forgive him anyway.
The moment they began to eat, joined by Tegoshi and his parents, Massu went into food critic mode, not really joining in the conversation.
There was an unusual amount of vinegar in the salad dressing, he thought as he chewed on the soybeans thoughtfully. Not unpleasant, but most places would have definitely not been as liberal.
The soup, miso based from what he could taste, with pork and shellfish just seemed bizarre. A pig and a clam would never meat in life, so Massu couldn’t understand why Tegoshi had decided to unite them in a bowl after death. Once again, though, it wasn’t actually bad - it didn’t taste weird. It just seemed weird.
The entire meal was nothing like the fare in the high class restaurants he usually attended these days, but later that night, tucked up in bed, he could still feel the warm, satisfied sensation spreading from his stomach through the rest of his body.
The green tea had been awfully hot, Massu thought. It had probably scorched his insides on the way down.
He was only half joking.
Breakfast was western, but no less strange than last night’s meal. The scrambled eggs tasted great, but traditionally they weren’t meant to be made with as much cream as Tegoshi had obviously added, and they’d definitely been cooked longer than was considered proper.
It was definitely an odd experience for him. He was enjoying everything, and couldn’t find fault with the taste. It was clear why Nakamaru had liked this place, but there was something unconventional about Tegoshi’s cooking that made Massu a little fidgety. What was he supposed to write? “It tastes wonderful, but it’s completely weird. The chef does everything totally wrong, but at the same time, totally right. It makes you feel warm inside, though that could just be the obscenely hot tea.”
That was a bit laughable. No magazine would publish that. It would have been fine on his old blog, but it was hardly appropriate for a professional publication. That was the kind of thing he’d have written when this had all just been a bit of fun, not his honest-to-god career.
Tegoshi cornered him later that day, when he was about to go out and explore the village.
“Taking a walk?” He asked, somehow managing to make it sound like a request to come along.
Naturally, they ended up going together, which turned out to be fortuitous for Massu, since it was like having his own personal tour guide.
“So.” Part way through their stroll down an empty road framed by rice field, Tegoshi turned and fixed him with an inquisitive stare. “How’s the food, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Massu stared back. “Huh?”
“My cooking. Do I have to wait for you to write the review, or am I allowed to know now? Are your thoughts top secret property?”
Massu bit the inside of his cheek. He’d never, despite his job, been able to give criticism to anyone other than close friends if it was to their face. It was different in writing; more impersonal. Less likely to hurt feelings. More removed.
“I’m enjoying it,” he finally said, and Tegoshi’s face split into a broad grin.
“Okay. That’s all that matters.”
Tegoshi looked so happy that Massu felt as though he was only setting him up for disappointment when the review was finally published and was filled less with glowing praise and more with complete confusion. He should be more honest, tell the full story, How did the saying go - you’ve got to be cruel to be kind.
“But…” He began, then stopped. How was he supposed to explain this? “But there is one thing…”
Tegoshi looked at him curiously. “Do you have some advice for me? I’m good with criticism, so don’t worry. I want to be the best at anything I do, and I hate losing. I’ll take anything on board.”
“No, it’s just…” Massu struggled, still a little tongue tied. When Tegoshi didn’t stop staring, he finally blurted out, “you just confuse me.”
Tegoshi’s smile turned quizzical. “Me? Or my cooking?”
‘Both,’ Massu wanted to say, but refrained. “It’s just, the way you cook… it tastes good. It tastes great. But it just seems wrong. There’s always too much of something, or the ingredients seem mismatched, or it’s cooked too long or too little and it seems like it shouldn’t be good, but…” he trailed off there, suddenly realizing it was coming across as more and more offensive by the second.
Tegoshi just cocked an eyebrow. “Is that a problem if you’re enjoying it? I make it the way I like it, so who cares how it ‘should’ be cooked?”
Massu shuffled his feet and shrugged his shoulders, his voice a mumble. “Isn’t it a bit presumptuous to assume everyone will like what you like?”
“Isn’t it a bit presumptuous to assume everyone will like it how it’s apparently supposed to be cooked?” Tegoshi asked, mouth tugging at the edges as though trying not to smile. “I don’t assume anything, but why would I cook food I thought tasted gross and then give it to other people?”
Massu stopped to consider that. “Huh. Okay.”
“I make it with love,” Tegoshi continued. “Food should feel like a hug from the inside. As long as it makes the guests feel good, that’s my aim. I’ve never wanted to be a professional because I like doing things my way. Professionals have too many rules to follow. You’d know all about that, right?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Massu asked, but his only reply was a mysterious smile.
They continued walking in silence, Massu deep in thought. A little further down the road, he suddenly stopped again and turned to Tegoshi. “I like my eggs cooked a little less. And your tea always burns my tongue.”
Tegoshi’s lips curled at the edges. “Okay. Now that I can fix.”
The seared tuna salad the guests were served up that night came with grapes and strawberries for some reason, but the tea was pleasantly hot instead of scalding. And despite that, Massu still went to bed feeling warm and comforted, like someone had just given him a long hug.
He checked out the next day, Tegoshi making him promise to come back again sometime.
“I’ll give you special treatment next time too, even if you’re not reviewing us.”
“I got the same food as everyone else,” Massu reminded him. “What’s special treatment about that?”
Tegoshi’s laugh was high and clear, like two glasses clinking. “I dished your meals up with a little extra love.”
The blush on Massu’s face as Tegoshi saw him out the door warmed him inside and out.
Pairing/Characters: Slight Masuda/Tegoshi
Rating/Warnings: G
Prompt: # 6 Restaurant critic AU
Summary: Massu, caught up in his job as a professional restaurant critic, takes a trip to the countryside and learns to unwind.
There was something off about the lasagna, Massu thought as he chewed his second mouthful. It wasn’t that it tasted bad - it was perfectly palatable - but there was something not quite right, something missing. Usually he’d let that slip, but for something that was supposed to be the restaurant special, that wasn’t up to standard. The meat sauce needed more vinegar, or more salt, or both, he decided, and the Chianti they’d paired it with needed to be just a touch warmer. Hopefully dessert would prove to be to a higher standard, because so far the restaurant had proved to be utterly average. It was good enough, yes - but not great.
Massu really did hope that they would pull it together in the dessert course, because he really did prefer to give restaurants good (or at least decent) reviews. He wasn’t a malicious person, but a critic had to be honest, and that meant being honest about the negative just as much as the positive. Besides, he had to think of his own reputation just as much as the restaurant’s; after many years, his opinion had finally begun to carry some weight in the world of restaurant critics, and he couldn’t go giving dishonest reviews just to spare every mediocre chef’s ego.
Fortunately, someone managed to get it together, serving up one of the best plates of tiramisu Massu had tasted in a long time. At least that gave him one thing to write home about - or at least, something to write in Tokyo Cuisine magazine about.
He’d lost track of how many reviews he’d published now. After just over five official years on the job, this would probably be number fify-something - though he’d written many more during his seven unofficial years. He’d started as a blogger, posting photos and reviews of the food in restaurants he’d visited as a hobby. He hadn’t really noticed the popularity creeping up on him until he’d started to appear in the number one spot on top rated and top read food blog lists.
People said there was something about his style of writing, a kind of candidness and honesty, occasionally punctuated by some subtle, underlying snark. Massu, however, just maintained that people liked food.
Back then, during his early years in university (which he later dropped out of to pursue this career) he’d gone to all the cheap, homely and humble restaurants. Recently, though, they’d been much higher class, which was probably why he was so unreasonably excited about the next project he had upcoming. It wasn’t so much a restaurant as a bed and breakfast type place that did dinner for the tiny number of guests it could house per night. A friend of his had stayed there recently and raved about the whole experience to him, so Massu figured, why not. If it was that good, then the least he could do was write them a glowing review and increase their business.
It was in a tiny town, not quite a village, in the countryside of Aichi prefecture, about as far away from Nagoya as you could get without crossing into Shizuoka. The first thing Massu noticed was the beautiful greenery, a refreshing change from the towering, grey buildings of Tokyo.
As expected of a family run bed and breakfast out in the middle of the country, it was a quaint little place, with a homey sort of feeling. The atmosphere had you unwinding before you were even checked-in, with a beautiful garden filled with blooming summer flowers and a small bamboo fountain.
Massu couldn’t help smiling. No wonder Nakamaru had liked this place - it was so peaceful, and with colleagues as insane as his (Massu had heard many stories) he had probably needed a little relaxing time.
Massu was greeted at the front desk by a boy about his age, with a cheery, almost mischievous smile, and an outfit far too fashionable for a country kid.
“Welcome, how can I help you?” His voice was a little more masculine than Massu had been expecting from someone with such a feminine face. “Are you checking in?”
“Um, yes. Booking for Masuda.”
Tegoshi Yuya - at least, that’s what it said on his nametag - flicked through his reservation book and nodded.
“Here you are. Let me show you to your room.”
His professional demeanor lasted all of another 30 seconds, until he relieved Massu of his bags and asked, “So, you’re the restaurant critic, right?”
It was lucky that Tegoshi had just taken his luggage, or Massu would have dropped it.
“What? How did you…”
The skin at the edge of Tegoshi’s eyes crinkled. “Nakamaru-kun said that he was going to recommend this place to you. We talked a lot while he was here. It’s not that common for anyone my age to pass through, so I’m always excited when someone does.”
Massu immediately got the impression that he’d be seeing a lot of Tegoshi during the next two days.
His theory already seemed to be coming true when, an hour later, Massu was pretty sure that Tegoshi had managed to share his entire life story while setting up the room.
“Anyway, I cook the meals here, so I hope you enjoy them. I guess I should tell you now that I haven’t had any professional training, but I have confidence in my abilities.”
Massu coughed. “Just… I don’t usually let people know that I’m a critic before they cook for me. If I do, I know they’d usually give me special treatment, and it kind of skews the results in the review…”
Tegoshi’s smile turned impish.
“Not to worry. I’d be giving you special treatment even if I didn’t know who you were,” he said, sugar sweet, then continued before Massu could figure out what he’d meant. “Dinner’s at 6pm sharp, don’t be late.”
And with that, he sauntered out of the room.
The B&B didn’t have a bath of its own, but guests were apparently welcome to use the public bath house down the road free of charge if they took their key, so Massu took advantage of the 2 hours before dinner to go and take a soak.
There was no one else at the bath house, so it was just him alone with his thoughts. He stretched out in the bath, leaning back against the edge of the tub.
Tegoshi was a strange kid, he decided. Nice enough, but totally strange - not that he wasn’t a bit weird himself, but Tegoshi was something else. He seemed so straight forward and honest, but at the same time, oddly difficult to figure out.
Massu decided to just forget about it for now and enjoy the hot water. Being native to Tokyo, he was accustomed to the fast-paced bustle of the city, so it was nice to slow down for once; body and mind.
Back at the B&B, dinner was not at 6pm sharp as Tegoshi had promised. He waited in the dining room with two elderly couple, plus one lone grandmother who talked his ear off the entire 15 minutes they sat waiting without leaving him room to get a word in edgeways, and Massu was too polite to interrupt.
Fortunately, Tegoshi did so for him when he finally wheeled their dinner in on a cart.
“Sorry to keep you waiting!” He sounded too chirpy for his apology to actually come across as apologetic, but there was something about his personality that begged you to forgive him anyway.
The moment they began to eat, joined by Tegoshi and his parents, Massu went into food critic mode, not really joining in the conversation.
There was an unusual amount of vinegar in the salad dressing, he thought as he chewed on the soybeans thoughtfully. Not unpleasant, but most places would have definitely not been as liberal.
The soup, miso based from what he could taste, with pork and shellfish just seemed bizarre. A pig and a clam would never meat in life, so Massu couldn’t understand why Tegoshi had decided to unite them in a bowl after death. Once again, though, it wasn’t actually bad - it didn’t taste weird. It just seemed weird.
The entire meal was nothing like the fare in the high class restaurants he usually attended these days, but later that night, tucked up in bed, he could still feel the warm, satisfied sensation spreading from his stomach through the rest of his body.
The green tea had been awfully hot, Massu thought. It had probably scorched his insides on the way down.
He was only half joking.
Breakfast was western, but no less strange than last night’s meal. The scrambled eggs tasted great, but traditionally they weren’t meant to be made with as much cream as Tegoshi had obviously added, and they’d definitely been cooked longer than was considered proper.
It was definitely an odd experience for him. He was enjoying everything, and couldn’t find fault with the taste. It was clear why Nakamaru had liked this place, but there was something unconventional about Tegoshi’s cooking that made Massu a little fidgety. What was he supposed to write? “It tastes wonderful, but it’s completely weird. The chef does everything totally wrong, but at the same time, totally right. It makes you feel warm inside, though that could just be the obscenely hot tea.”
That was a bit laughable. No magazine would publish that. It would have been fine on his old blog, but it was hardly appropriate for a professional publication. That was the kind of thing he’d have written when this had all just been a bit of fun, not his honest-to-god career.
Tegoshi cornered him later that day, when he was about to go out and explore the village.
“Taking a walk?” He asked, somehow managing to make it sound like a request to come along.
Naturally, they ended up going together, which turned out to be fortuitous for Massu, since it was like having his own personal tour guide.
“So.” Part way through their stroll down an empty road framed by rice field, Tegoshi turned and fixed him with an inquisitive stare. “How’s the food, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Massu stared back. “Huh?”
“My cooking. Do I have to wait for you to write the review, or am I allowed to know now? Are your thoughts top secret property?”
Massu bit the inside of his cheek. He’d never, despite his job, been able to give criticism to anyone other than close friends if it was to their face. It was different in writing; more impersonal. Less likely to hurt feelings. More removed.
“I’m enjoying it,” he finally said, and Tegoshi’s face split into a broad grin.
“Okay. That’s all that matters.”
Tegoshi looked so happy that Massu felt as though he was only setting him up for disappointment when the review was finally published and was filled less with glowing praise and more with complete confusion. He should be more honest, tell the full story, How did the saying go - you’ve got to be cruel to be kind.
“But…” He began, then stopped. How was he supposed to explain this? “But there is one thing…”
Tegoshi looked at him curiously. “Do you have some advice for me? I’m good with criticism, so don’t worry. I want to be the best at anything I do, and I hate losing. I’ll take anything on board.”
“No, it’s just…” Massu struggled, still a little tongue tied. When Tegoshi didn’t stop staring, he finally blurted out, “you just confuse me.”
Tegoshi’s smile turned quizzical. “Me? Or my cooking?”
‘Both,’ Massu wanted to say, but refrained. “It’s just, the way you cook… it tastes good. It tastes great. But it just seems wrong. There’s always too much of something, or the ingredients seem mismatched, or it’s cooked too long or too little and it seems like it shouldn’t be good, but…” he trailed off there, suddenly realizing it was coming across as more and more offensive by the second.
Tegoshi just cocked an eyebrow. “Is that a problem if you’re enjoying it? I make it the way I like it, so who cares how it ‘should’ be cooked?”
Massu shuffled his feet and shrugged his shoulders, his voice a mumble. “Isn’t it a bit presumptuous to assume everyone will like what you like?”
“Isn’t it a bit presumptuous to assume everyone will like it how it’s apparently supposed to be cooked?” Tegoshi asked, mouth tugging at the edges as though trying not to smile. “I don’t assume anything, but why would I cook food I thought tasted gross and then give it to other people?”
Massu stopped to consider that. “Huh. Okay.”
“I make it with love,” Tegoshi continued. “Food should feel like a hug from the inside. As long as it makes the guests feel good, that’s my aim. I’ve never wanted to be a professional because I like doing things my way. Professionals have too many rules to follow. You’d know all about that, right?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Massu asked, but his only reply was a mysterious smile.
They continued walking in silence, Massu deep in thought. A little further down the road, he suddenly stopped again and turned to Tegoshi. “I like my eggs cooked a little less. And your tea always burns my tongue.”
Tegoshi’s lips curled at the edges. “Okay. Now that I can fix.”
The seared tuna salad the guests were served up that night came with grapes and strawberries for some reason, but the tea was pleasantly hot instead of scalding. And despite that, Massu still went to bed feeling warm and comforted, like someone had just given him a long hug.
He checked out the next day, Tegoshi making him promise to come back again sometime.
“I’ll give you special treatment next time too, even if you’re not reviewing us.”
“I got the same food as everyone else,” Massu reminded him. “What’s special treatment about that?”
Tegoshi’s laugh was high and clear, like two glasses clinking. “I dished your meals up with a little extra love.”
The blush on Massu’s face as Tegoshi saw him out the door warmed him inside and out.