Post by Renard Godspell on May 15, 2023 8:48:13 GMT -5
Once his mind is set on what to do first, Renard heads towards the venue for the cooking competition. He was no stranger to cooking due to having to cook and take care of his younger siblings for extented durations of time, which allowed him to develop his skills. Standing next to a sign, indicating where potential cooks can registrate for the competition, stand a woman with a wooden clipboard no older than her thirties (Renard noted as he approached). Getting closer tothe lady, Renard notices a somewhat bored look on her face, looking as though she has been forced to do a job when she would rather be enjoying the festival. "Name?" she said bluntly and drily. "Renard Godspell of the Crimson Lions" the young mage replied, trying to match her tone, suspecting that she would rather get this over with as soon as possible. As quickly as Renard spoke, she noted in the clipboard and waved the boy into the venue.
Once inside and ushered to the main area, Renard spotted various immaculate work stations equiped with various pots, pans, cuttboards and numerous utensils. Looking around, Renard saw that a few of his fellow contestants starting to set up their stations and, overlooking the contest floor were five judges, four of them sat behind a long table and the fifth judge, the head judge Renard assumed, stood patiently in front of table. While waiting for the judges to speak, Renard started setting up, making sure everything was in reach and sharpening his knives and making sure that the station is ready.
After a few minutes, it seemed like the last of the contestants have arrived and set up their stations, the "head judge", a tall square-jawed man with spiked up dirty blond hair in his mid to late fifties, stepped forward and adressed the contestants. "Contestants!" He spoke up with an air of authority suiting his position. "Welcome to the Annual Fete cooking contest. We are looking forward to see what you will be giving us this year. The rules are simple..." On queue two assistants wheeled in a cooking station each. One had some condensation on it and some frosty mist emitting from it, as though the air surrounding the station was reacting to some ice magic. This one was topped with various cuts of meats and fish, which thank to some labeling, each of the contestants saw that they would be working with turkey, lamb, rabbit and salmon. The second station was carrying some flour, milk and eggs on one side whilst the opposite end was full of asparagus, spinach, cauliflower, potatoes and lemons. As the assitants halted the stations, the middle-aged judge continue to spoke "...each of you will have 45 mins to cook us whatever dish you wish, the only restriction is that you use the ingredients before you. Any spices, seasoning and herbs you wish to utilise will be readily available. I suggest you make use of them." I said, although sounding serious, he paused as though waiting a laugh or at least a chuckle. He clears his throat and simply says "You may begin" and the timer starts and the contestants rushed to grab our ingredients.
WC: 534
TWC: 1029
Moved from: Annual Flower Blossom Fete
Once inside and ushered to the main area, Renard spotted various immaculate work stations equiped with various pots, pans, cuttboards and numerous utensils. Looking around, Renard saw that a few of his fellow contestants starting to set up their stations and, overlooking the contest floor were five judges, four of them sat behind a long table and the fifth judge, the head judge Renard assumed, stood patiently in front of table. While waiting for the judges to speak, Renard started setting up, making sure everything was in reach and sharpening his knives and making sure that the station is ready.
After a few minutes, it seemed like the last of the contestants have arrived and set up their stations, the "head judge", a tall square-jawed man with spiked up dirty blond hair in his mid to late fifties, stepped forward and adressed the contestants. "Contestants!" He spoke up with an air of authority suiting his position. "Welcome to the Annual Fete cooking contest. We are looking forward to see what you will be giving us this year. The rules are simple..." On queue two assistants wheeled in a cooking station each. One had some condensation on it and some frosty mist emitting from it, as though the air surrounding the station was reacting to some ice magic. This one was topped with various cuts of meats and fish, which thank to some labeling, each of the contestants saw that they would be working with turkey, lamb, rabbit and salmon. The second station was carrying some flour, milk and eggs on one side whilst the opposite end was full of asparagus, spinach, cauliflower, potatoes and lemons. As the assitants halted the stations, the middle-aged judge continue to spoke "...each of you will have 45 mins to cook us whatever dish you wish, the only restriction is that you use the ingredients before you. Any spices, seasoning and herbs you wish to utilise will be readily available. I suggest you make use of them." I said, although sounding serious, he paused as though waiting a laugh or at least a chuckle. He clears his throat and simply says "You may begin" and the timer starts and the contestants rushed to grab our ingredients.
WC: 534
TWC: 1029
Moved from: Annual Flower Blossom Fete