I Got the Almighty Tongue - Chapter 159



Only Noblemtl

159 The Fallen Critic

Daughter.

“Welcome. This is Segreto.”

With a height that looks over 190 centimeters, the coppery skin typical of Latinos, and even the trademark scarf, Jenny’s eyes tremble as she looks at Horace. However, she soon regains her composure and leisurely guides him to his seat.

“Can I take a photo? I might contribute to a magazine. Of course, nothing has been decided yet.”

“Of course.”

Jenny treats him as if nothing happened, just as she heard from Jehee beforehand.

Horace looked around the hall while waiting for his food. Then he ran his hand over the window sill. There was no dust at all. The fresh flowers on the table looked fresh, as if they had been brought from the flower shop that day. He looked at the entrance and saw a steady stream of customers. Soon, the tables were full.

Food is constantly coming out of the kitchen, and servers serve it with restrained movements.

‘I wonder if I can make some money?’

Horace smiles.

Until three years ago, he was a critic known for never compromising on taste. No matter how good a restaurant was, if it didn’t suit his taste, he would give it a harsh review, and even if it was an unknown restaurant, if the food was excellent, he would devote several pages to writing an introduction.

The turning point of his values ​​was the chef of a restaurant he had criticized in a small section of a local newspaper. One day, he contacted him and told him that the restaurant was in danger of going under because of him, and that he would take responsibility. Naturally, he laughed it off and refused, but the compensation he offered was considerable.

At the time, Horace was going through a difficult time financially due to divorce and child custody battle.

‘That place won’t last long anyway.’

The food at that restaurant was flashy in appearance but lacked substance. The sauces were the same, the menu was typical without any signs of thought, and even the freshness of the ingredients was lacking. Horace closed his eyes tightly and took pictures that would highlight the good points of the place, wrote an article, and published it in a magazine.

The effect was immediate. The restaurant that had been deserted by customers had become a must-have restaurant for those without reservations. Horace had more trust from his subscribers than he had thought.

There was a rumor going around that a dying restaurant was saved by one article of his. He was approached by temptations from various sources without first suggesting it. He decided to actively sell his influence.

Anyway, the public doesn’t know the taste.

They are just pigs who visit a place without thinking, thinking that if a critic says it is delicious, it must be so. Horace wrote without guilt.

But the restaurants he had promoted could not keep the customers for long. The return rate dropped and they began to close one by one before a year had passed. The readers’ trust in Horace also deteriorated. No one gave him money anymore. The occasional request was only a small sum.

But having tasted money, he could no longer reduce his spending.

‘Isn’t there a way?’

After much deliberation, he first offered to run a promotional article for the restaurant. He was flatly rejected. The restaurant was already well-established in the area and did not need to rely on advertising.

I couldn’t raise my face because of shame.

He wrote a slanderous article about the place, with his pen moving wildly. The creative chef’s recipes became baseless dishes, and the cheerful and friendly servers became uncivilized country bumpkins. At that time, he did not fully realize how sensitive people were to malicious intent.

His column received an explosive response, putting him back on track. And the restaurant eventually closed.

“There will come a day when you will pay for your karma.”

The chef’s eyes were fierce as he glared at him. But Horace didn’t care.

“If your food was really good, you wouldn’t have closed down like this.”

After the same thing happened several times, Horace’s column became more powerful than before. Now, no restaurant turned down his offer. Horace visited Segreto, feeling a sense of freshness after having been turned away for so long.

The champagne and food began to arrive. Horace held up his glass to the light. There was no sign of a handprint or dust. He drank the champagne and the refreshing carbonation went down his throat. It was a wine in perfect condition.

Amuse-bouches start to appear.

Click.

Click.

Assistant Melinda starts taking pictures. She is a capable assistant. She handles everything from restaurant bookings and pre-arrangements to taking pictures, and she makes no mistakes.

“Hmm… Good.”

The oysters and sea urchins were fresh. They had a smoky flavor, as if they had been grilled over charcoal. The lemon and shallots added a refreshing taste, and the fishy smell was completely removed, leaving only the rich taste of the sea.

Next came Segreto’s signature appetizer.

These are three dishes that symbolize flowering.

The dish, which resembled sprouts blooming on grass, was beautiful. Horace picked it up with his hand, sniffed it, and put it in his mouth.

‘How on earth is this cream made?’

The rich flavor of fat mixes with kale. The textures are also varied. While the soft cream and sponge give a cake-like feel, the hardened kale, like a macaron, gives a chewy taste.

Then he was left speechless when he saw the celery stalks and the artichoke flowers.

It was a truly creative and beautiful dish.

He dug out the celery and filled it with other ingredients. The celery had a crunchy texture, as if it had been processed, but it was soft. Rather than killing the unique flavor of the celery, he used lamb and strong spices to bring out its strengths. The sauce and celery leaves represented the lush stems. Horace felt his passion for food, which had dried up, being filled again.

“Horace! This place is crazy.”

Melinda is so absorbed in cooking that she forgets what she’s supposed to be doing.

The sunflower-shaped artichoke looked like a work of art. It felt like a shame to break the shape with a spoon. He put the spoon in deeply and took a bite of the caviar and sauce. It was truly a violence of taste. Horace closed his eyes and savored the taste, then cut the artichoke with a knife and tried it.

The luxurious taste of artichoke goes well with caviar. I felt like I knew the direction the chef was pursuing.

“This is Primo Piatto. I have prepared a Lazio-style Arrabiata.”

The server politely puts down the plate and steps away.

It was a perfectly shaped penne pasta. When I tasted it, a strong spiciness stimulated my tongue. But then the taste of fresh tomato puree covered the spiciness. And the heaviness of the savory scallions and the richness of the pecorino Romano cheese added to the perfection of the pasta. It had been a long time since I had pasta of this level.

“Michelin two stars are definitely on a different level. This place is especially good. Except for the price.”

“I’ve never even paid money before.”

“Haha! That’s the good thing about doing this job.”

Restaurants often do not charge their sources for their meals.

The steak and dessert that came out as the main dish were also excellent. Horace’s heart was filled with generosity after having a satisfying meal for the first time in a long time.

It was indeed a restaurant that would refuse his offer. It seemed that it would not be a bad idea to write a complimentary article praising a restaurant of this caliber.

“Let’s go back. There’s a lot to talk about.”

“Huh? Aren’t you going to meet the chef?”

Horace always had a private meeting with the chef after each meal to negotiate.

“That’s enough for today.”

The two of them put on their coats and walked out of the hall. It was a satisfying meal. I think I can write a good article.

“Customer? You haven’t paid your bill yet.”

Two people who were about to open the door and go out stop when they hear a voice from behind.

“I thought I told you earlier that I was filming? My name is Horace Milton. I write columns for Flavor and Food & Wine.”

Horace smiled softly, raised his hand once, and then reached for the doorknob again.

“It seems like they don’t pay reporting fees there.”

Horace turns his head at the voice coming from behind him. It’s a face he’s seen on TV.

“Haha. Hello, Chef. This is Horace Milton. I think there was a misunderstanding, but I really enjoyed the meal today. You can look forward to the article.”

By now you should have figured it out, but the chef didn’t back down because he ate something wrong.

“Dine and dash? I guess I should call the police.”

Horace’s expression hardens.

“Melinda, pay by card. Chef, please look at me for a moment.”

* * *

He slams the door roughly and enters the office, seeming displeased.

“It seems like the chef doesn’t have much interest in restaurants.”

He sat down on his chair with his legs crossed and suddenly began to speak.

“How could that be? I am so full of love.”

“But why do you keep making a big deal out of it? I think it’s okay to refuse a small amount of manuscript fee. But don’t you think it’s too much to criticize me in this way? What if I write with wrong preconceptions?”

Now is the time for a media transition. The influence of old media such as magazines and TV will gradually weaken, and YouTube and SNS will take their place.

The media industry’s professional ethics have fallen to the ground, making it a given that new media will accept backlighting without guilt and deceive consumers. It will take another 10 years for consumers to truly understand the seriousness of this problem.

At this point, I felt the need to make this issue public and sound the alarm in the industry.

Now, Horace, a famous critic, asks for money at restaurants, but in just five years, we will enter an era where YouTubers and bloggers whose faces no one except their subscribers knows will accept money for behind-the-scenes advertising.

Of course, this also includes free-spirited eating.

“Mr. Milton. You pay to eat in a restaurant. Even a five-year-old knows that.”

Horace looks at me with a stern face.

“It’s not even funny. What happens from now on is entirely your fault. When critics write, customers come to the restaurant. Don’t you think it’s a win-win situation? But you’re not going to pay for it, so you’re a total thief.”

“Of course we are spending money on advertising. But Mr. Milton, when on earth did you move to an advertising agency?”

His face turns red with shame. He glares at me once and then storms off.

When I came outside, I saw Jenny fidgeting.

“Are you worried?”

“I heard bad things.”

“There are people who force unreasonableness everywhere. If you are weak or weak-hearted, you will inevitably fall for it. But we are neither of those.”

Jenny nods.

I collected evidence of Horace’s infidelity bit by bit.

Then one day, two weeks later, Eric came into the office looking really angry.

“Chef, look at this! This is ridiculous.”

This month’s issue of Flavor had a photo of our restaurant on the front page with a provocative headline.

[The Most Overrated Restaurant in America: Segreto]

As I turned the page to read the article, there was a picture of Horace smiling leisurely. I wonder if he will be able to smile the same way when this is over.