Her Majesty’s Secret Service

007. The Queen’s Chef

Three days ago, Bishop Thomas betrayed me. He sold me out to Steve Gardener, a confidant of Queen Mary.

For that reason, I now find myself quietly observing the simmering cream stew in the kitchen of Westminster Palace.

What I had wanted was to use Bishop Thomas’s connections to meet Elizabeth, or perhaps become acquainted with other nobles close to her.

But unexpectedly, I caught the eye of Queen Mary’s confidant and ended up presenting my cooking to ‘Bloody Mary’ herself. It was an unforeseen turn of events.

Bishop Steve, invited by Bishop Thomas, was one of Queen Mary’s closest allies, busy dealing with traitors during the tumultuous process of her ascension to the throne.

Having witnessed Bishop Steve’s handling of the traitors, Bishop Thomas was convinced that Steve harbored a grudge against him. After all, those being disposed of first were the ones who had previously insulted Bishop Steve.

Bishop Thomas thought it best to bow his head first, hoping to save his own life.

It seemed Bishop Thomas’s efforts paid off, as Bishop Steve showed him mercy. Perhaps his submissive approach had diluted Steve’s resentment.

Bishop Steve demanded that Bishop Thomas willingly resign from all offices except for his bishopric.

He also proposed that the manor granted to Bishop Eli, along with its revenues, be offered to the Queen and himself, and that the ‘chef’ employed by Bishop Thomas be handed over to Bishop Steve.

One might not consider this merciful, but sparing a life and allowing someone to retain their bishopric was deemed sufficient mercy for the time.

After all, this was an era where politics was quite literally a matter of life and death.

Bishop Thomas welcomed Bishop Steve’s proposal with open arms.

At dinner that evening, Bishop Thomas broke our contract, and from that day on, I resided in Bishop Steve’s mansion.

After preparing meals for Bishop Steve for several days, today, I finally accompanied him to the royal palace.

Officially, this event is known as ‘the devoted Bishop Steve bringing a chef from Bishop Thomas to present exquisite cuisine to the Queen.’

However, the real purpose is said to be Bishop Steve’s way of insulting Bishop Thomas by forcibly taking his servant. So, the reason I’m cooking here is because of Bishop Steve’s vendetta.

Where did I hear such things?

“Logan, I’ve brought the dough, bacon, and onions you prepared earlier. The water is all boiled too. What should we do next?”

I heard it from Oliver, the only person in the royal kitchen who was led by the hand of Bishop Steve and spoke to me.

Oliver, who always carried a smile as he moved around the kitchen, was a servant attached to it. Unlike the other chefs who were wary of me, he was the only one who showed a friendly attitude. When I asked his age, he said he was fifteen.

Hearing that, I was once again aware that I had fallen into the 16th century.

“Ah, thank you, Oliver. Could you bring me the mop then? Sorry, I’m still not used to the kitchen…”

“Not at all. I’m here to help with such things. Just a moment.”

Oliver, with a voice as bright as his smile, answered and went to find the mop.

Once Oliver left, the silence enveloped me again.

There were about three other chefs, but they silently went about their assigned cooking. Though to call it cooking was a stretch—it was nothing but grilling meat.

They occasionally cast wary glances my way, but it wasn’t enough to bother me. In their eyes, I must have appeared nothing more than an unwelcome intruder who had barged into their kitchen on the coattails of Bishop Steve.

At first, their attitude upset me, but then I thought about it—they were chefs skilled enough to be in charge of the king’s meals, so it made sense that their pride was hurt. It was understandable.

And their wariness of me was meaningless.

Why? Because today would be the first and last time I would serve a meal to the queen.

The existing royal chefs were trustworthy and of confirmed status, whereas I was a foreigner of uncertain identity. Moreover, I had claimed amnesia, so no matter how close to the king, it was unlikely they would keep such a chef in the royal kitchen.

Well, those complex matters could wait. Right now, I had to focus on the meal for Queen Mary.

If it were simply making cream stew, there wouldn’t be much need for concentration, but the problem was that Bishop Steve, having tasted my stew, overestimated me too much.

Bishop Steve, having tasted my stew, acknowledged it as the most delicious he had ever had, but when it came to serving it to the queen, he requested something a little more special.

A humble stew like the one he had eaten wouldn’t do for the queen, would it?

As soon as I heard that command, ‘cream pasta’ came to mind. There was no need to accompany it with other dishes; if I boiled pasta and mixed it into the cream stew, it would become cream pasta.

Moreover, pasta suited this ‘cream stew’ quite well.

With that thought, I intended to make cream pasta and looked for pasta, but, surprisingly, there was no ‘pasta’ stocked in the 16th-century English kitchen.

I asked the royal chefs about pasta, but the only response I got was a scoff, “Why would you look for that in the royal kitchen?” It seemed that pasta was not considered fit for the nobility’s table in this era.

For that reason, I tried to make pasta myself, but no matter how much I searched my memory, I couldn’t find the method for making pasta dough.

If you don’t have teeth, then gums must do.

Although I couldn’t recall how to make pasta, the method for making knife-cut noodles was vivid in my mind. So instead of ‘cream pasta,’ I decided to make ‘cream knife-cut noodles.’

At first, I thought about deliberately ruining the dish to escape from this place, but after hearing Oliver’s story about Henry VIII’s chef, I never entertained that thought again.

Well, they say the head chef was beheaded for finding a hair in the food. Considering my father was such a man, I thought his daughter, known as ‘Bloody Mary,’ would be no different.

“Logan! I’ve brought the rolling pin.”

Oliver’s shout snapped me out of my reverie.

I took the rolling pin from Oliver and rolled out the dough until it was flat, sprinkled flour on top, and folded it in half a couple of times to finish the knife-cut noodle dough.

Then I cut the dough with a knife to make the noodles. Roughly enough for four to five servings.

Once a suitable amount of noodles was ready, I boiled them. Then I rinsed the boiled noodles in prepared cold water, drained them as much as possible, and transferred them to another bowl.

With the noodles ready, I began to fry the sliced onions and bacon.

The bacon was so fatty compared to what I knew that I didn’t need to add any extra oil.

I added stew and milk to the fried bacon and onions, seasoned it with salt, and waited for it to boil.

Once it boiled, I added the pre-boiled noodles. Then I stir-fried the noodles with the sauce to mix them well.

A short while later, I finished plating the dish, ready to serve it to the queen. The other chefs, who had been sneaking glances at my cooking process, seemed to have finished preparing the roasted meat to serve to the queen as well.

“Ah. Is this everything you’ve prepared?”

Oliver, the kitchen page, held a lantern in one hand and the plate with my dish in the other, heading to the queen’s chamber.

One of the chefs also followed Oliver, carrying the meat he had cooked.

It seemed that not only the kitchen page, Oliver, but also the chefs had to personally deliver the food.

How long had it been since the two headed for the queen’s chamber?

Before long, Oliver returned to the kitchen, his face flushed with excitement.

“Logan! Logan!”

“What’s wrong? Is something the matter?”

Oliver’s face was beet red, and his breathing slightly rough. It seemed there was some urgent matter.

“Her Majesty the Queen has summoned Logan. Right now, immediately.”

Could it be, a hair found in the food? Damn it. I want to run away.

* * *

Queen Mary thought she had done well to endure Bishop Steve’s lengthy nagging.

The roast meat by the royal chef Marco, which she always ate, was no different than usual, but the new dish made by the foreign chef delighted her taste buds.

The queen, who had been slightly upset until she saw the unfamiliar white noodle dish presented on the table, was surprised.

It was definitely pasta. How could pasta be served at the queen’s table?

She wanted to scream in anger and have the chef who dared serve this dish brought to her, but the chef who made this dish was brought by Bishop Steve, her most loyal confidant.

For the sake of the old loyalist’s face, Queen Mary decided to let it pass just this once. She picked up a few strands of the noodles on the plate with two fingers. There was too little broth for stew, so she didn’t think to use a spoon.

As she put the noodles in her mouth, she felt the soft taste of cream and the chewy texture of the noodles. It was nutty and pleasantly salty, quite, no, rather good. Had Bishop Steve not been there, she might have grabbed the noodles with both hands and devoured them in haste.

Having tasted the noodles once, the queen grabbed about half a handful this time. Then she poured the noodles into her mouth. Her hand gestures did not stop until the plate was empty.

When the plate was cleared, Queen Mary dipped her hands in the finger bowl with an elegant gesture and wiped the sauce off her hands with a napkin.

Bishop Steve, seeing the queen’s actions, opened his mouth with a slightly surprised expression.

“How long has it been since Your Majesty has emptied a dish. It must have been quite satisfactory?”

Queen Mary had not eaten properly since ascending the throne. No, it would be more accurate to say she had not been able to eat properly.

Though it had been less than a month since she ascended the throne. The queen had lost her appetite amidst the overwhelming workload that came with it.

From dealing with the traitors who emerged during her rise to power to the peasants’ struggle for survival. The multitude of issues had naturally worn her down, diminishing her desire to eat.

“Hmm… The culinary skills of the foreign chef you’ve brought are truly remarkable. What is the name of the chef who prepared this dish?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, he introduced himself as ‘Logan Lee.'”

“A foreigner, yet he uses a rather familiar name. He’s in the kitchen now, isn’t he?”

“That he is, but… why do you ask, Your Majesty?”

At Bishop Steve’s inquiry, the queen, who was about to pick up a slice of meat the chef had just cut, did not answer him but instead turned her head quietly to the standing page.

“You there, kitchen page. Was it… Oliver, you said?”

“Yes… Yes? Yes! That’s correct, Your Majesty.”

Oliver, surprised that the queen had called him by his name, stumbled over his words without realizing it.

Instead of getting angry at Oliver’s blunder, the queen was smiling warmly.

“Oliver, there’s no need to be so tense. You are to go to the kitchen now and bring Logan here.”

The queen’s voice that reached Oliver’s ears was incredibly gentle.

Putting the voice aside, the fact that the first noble to remember his name was none other than Her Majesty the Queen herself was both moving and an honor beyond words.

Not even the nobles, let alone the kitchen chefs, usually referred to him by his position as ‘page’ rather than his name.

It was a different feeling from two days ago when ‘Logan,’ the foreign chef brought by Bishop Steve, had called him by his name.

The elation Oliver felt in his heart at the thought that Her Majesty the Queen remembered his name hastened his steps.

It was an order from Her Majesty the Queen, who remembered his name. He had to bring Logan as quickly as possible.