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“Bell!” Octavia screeched as she barrelled her way into the kitchen where Bellamy and his sous chef, Monty, were prepping for the day ahead. She had a letter clutched in her hand and her face had the fierce look she got when she was nervous.
“Guess what?” she asked and he gave her an unamused looked.
He’d never enjoyed guessing games unlike Octavia who’d wanted to play them for hours when they were little. Bellamy didn’t like surprises. Surprises always end up being something horrible, something unforeseen that kicked him in the gut just as he thought he was actually getting somewhere in his life.
And he was finally getting somewhere with this restaurant, despite everyone telling him that it wouldn’t go anywhere, that there was no desire in New York for a yet another Filipino restaurant. However, Bellamy hadn’t let negativity stop him. He’d learned to cook Filipino food when he’d discovered that he had paternal cousins in the Philippines. They’d contacted him on Facebook, asking if he was their long-lost American cousin and suddenly there had been a whole family he’d never known about and he had enjoyed getting to know them. So when they’d invited him out to visit, he’d had gone. Octavia had been in her sophomore year of college, had been dating Lincoln seriously and hadn’t needed him to stick around. So, he’d gone and spent the winter in the Philippines.
His aunt ran a prestigious cooking school in Baguio, which specialised in Filipino dishes and was not competitive, unlike many of their counterparts in Manila. As his primary aim was to learn about his Filipino heritage, he’d signed up and discovered that he had a knack not only for cooking, but for Filipino food. His aunt had been proud, pinching his cheeks and exclaiming that you could take the boy out of the Philippines but that you couldn’t take the Philippines out of the boy.
“Clarke Griffin is coming to our restaurant!” she said, punching her hands in the air.
Monty gasped. “Clarke Griffin, as in Clarke-daughter-of-Michelin-Star-chef-Jake-Griffin-and-terror-of-restaurants-everywhere-Griffin?”
“Yep,” Octavia exclaimed happily.
Bellamy groaned and put his head in his hands.
“What?” his sister asked, confused.
“That’s just typical,” he replied. “I was just getting this restaurant off the ground! We get regular bookings and are full most nights and now Princess Food Critic is going to come and give us some shitty review.”
Octavia shot him a bemused look. “What? Why?”
“Because this always happens, O! I finally get ahead in my life and something comes along and fucks it up and I’m right back where I’m started.”
Thoroughly unimpressed with her brother’s moping, Octavia punched him in the arm – hard – and said, “God, you’re such a pessimist, Bell. Besides, who said she’s going to hate the food here? No one hates the food here. How can they when you’re such a badass cook? Even Indra loves your food.”
The only smile Bellamy had ever gained from Lincoln’s scary aunt had been when Lincoln had brought her here for her birthday.
“Did she say when she was coming or this going to be some surprise visit bullshit?” he asked.
“She’ll be here next Thursday.”
“At least that gives me time to plan the menu for that night.”
Octavia went back to front where she was cleaning and restocking the bar. Monty gave Bellamy an excited look and he smiled back. Despite his fears, his heart was racing at the prospect of gaining national recognition. His aunt was going to scream when he told her that one of America’s top food critics was coming to his restaurant.
Bellamy hadn’t even meant for his restaurant to become the kind of place that hosted food critics. He’d just wanted to bring good Filipino food to people and, thanks to Octavia getting a full ride scholarship, the money he’d painstaking saved up for her college fund had been used to get him the necessary food certificates and make him attractive for banks to give him a business starter loan. His restaurant might not be in the nicest part of the city, but he prided himself on serving authentic Filipino food and his reputation had grown through word of mouth. Now, his restaurant was a sought out place to eat and had been featured in a Time Out ‘out of the way eating joints you must try’ article.
However, it was still scary that a recognised food critic like Clarke Griffin had heard of him and wanted to come. She’d gained a fearsome reputation after her expose of the high-end French restaurant where Cage Wallace had been head chef with a Michelin Star and a book and TV deal. However, with a couple of strokes of her pen, she had destroyed any reputation Wallace had. The general consensus was that Cage Wallace had it coming, but it had still been a shock that he wasn’t responsible for any of the food he claimed credit for and had used the cooking genius of an illegal immigrant.
Bellamy didn’t have anything like that to fear, but a scathing review from Griffin could spell the end to his restaurant’s meteoric rise.
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Thursday came around really quickly, which was good as it meant that Bellamy didn’t have a lot of time to worry about it. He had settled on a menu that day that consisted of several Filipino classics such as lumpia, chicken adobo and bagoong fried rice. He had thought about cooking some of the fusion dishes he would occasionally put on the menu and would often make at home, but decided against it. His reputation was built on cooking traditional Filipino food and he wasn’t going to change this for a food critic. His chef’s special was going to be the first dish he made that had his aunt closing her eyes in pleasure as she ate, bulalo. It was a broth based beef dish that took time and patience to cook because of the beef shank and bone marrow.
He hoped she asked for the chef’s special.
As the day wore on, so did Bellamy’s nerves. He snapped several times at Monty and the new kitchen hand, Maya, who he’d employed to help them deal with the upsurge of patrons. Octavia outright refused to come in the kitchen after he shouted at her until he’d apologised and admitted that he was really nervous.
By the time Clarke Griffin showed up, his jaw was perpetually clenched and he had descended into a tense filled silence.
He felt almost disappointed when Octavia delivered her order. As expected, she had gone for lumpia, but as the main course the food critic had gone for the entirely predictable and safe option of chicken adobo.
He huffed as he saw it and said to Monty, “Can you believe it. Chicken fucking adobo”
“What’s wrong with that? You know that you make an amazing chicken adobo.”
“Yeah, but it’s what every western person orders when they don’t know anything about Filipino food. I thought a food critic would be a little knowledgeable and if not then a little more adventurous.”
The germ of an idea entered his head. It was potentially suicidal, but his bulalo was amazing and to be honest, if she was eating anything on his menu then it really should be that. So he decided to ignore her actual order and plate up the bulalo for her anyway.
Monty raised his eyebrows when he saw what Bellamy was doing, but kept his mouth shut. Octavia, however didn’t.
“Are you actually insane?” she asked him when she saw the bulalo.
“Nope,” he said, popping the p with satisfaction.
“Give her the order she wanted, dumbass.”
“No,” Bellamy repeated, this time folding his arms stubbornly over his chest.
Octavia eyed him before she sighed and rolled her eyes. “Your funeral, Bell.”
His sister was back five minutes later with a smug smile on her face. “The food critic wants to see you,” she said.
Pushing his apprehension away, Bellamy strode out of the kitchen and into the main restaurant. Octavia pointed towards a young blonde sitting in the window and said, “There she is.”
His first thought was holy shit, she’s hot followed by a realisation that she was much younger than he’d expected. The terror of chefs everywhere couldn’t have been older than Octavia and not the hard faced woman in her forties that he had pictured.
Then he caught sight of the expression on her face and reappraised his view once more. She looked as if she was about to march into battle and it was terrifying.
Steeling his backbone for an encounter that could possibly ruin his career just as it was getting started, he approached her table and said, “Is there something wrong, Ms Griffin?”
Turning to face him, she gave him a brief once over, admiration flashing briefly in her eyes before she said curtly, “Bellamy Blake, I suppose.”
“Pleased to meet you,” he said in his most charming voice.
The only visible affect it had on her was to make her nostrils flare.
Shit, he thought. He’d really fucked up this time.
“What’s this?” she asked, gesturing to the bulalo.
“The chef’s special, bulalo.”
“What happened to my chicken adobo?”
“I decided to ignore your order and give you something else.”
“And you think that is a good way to run a restaurant do you? I’d heard about you, Bellamy Blake, and your lack of experience, but I didn’t think you’d actually just ignore the wishes of your patrons.”
His own temper rose at her words. The culinary world could be an exclusive and snobby place. It hadn’t mattered when he was nothing but a neighbourhood restaurant, but once he’d started being featured in magazines then successful chefs had begun to pay attention to him. He’d come up against their hostility that a kid who hadn’t been raised in the culinary business could make such a success of his restaurant.
“Not usually, Princess, but when a notable food critic comes into my restaurant and orders the safest option on the menu then I take it into my own hands to educate their palate.”
If he was going to die on this hill, then he was going to make sure he did it properly.
Colour mounted in her cheeks and her chest heaved as she pulled in a couple of deep breaths. He’d obviously riled her up, which really wasn’t the smartest thing to have done but, fuck it, he was not serving her chicken adobo.
“Just get me my chicken adobo before this deteriorates even further,” she said in a clipped tone.
But Bellamy Blake was nothing but stubborn. “No,” he said, ignoring the glare that she gave him. “I bet you order chicken adobo in every Filipino restaurant you go to,” he said, noting the flash in her eyes that told him his observation was correct. “Well in my restaurant, you’re going to be a little more adventurous. Try this, if you hate it then write about how crappy my cooking is but at least try it!”
He didn’t give her an opportunity to respond before he was walking away, stuffing his now shaking hands into his apron.
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The review was due to come out in that Sunday in one of the larger newspaper’s glossy magazines. Bellamy had tried to forget all about it, hoping that his word-of-mouth reputation would save him from the mauling he was no doubt going to get in the review. The only consolation he’d had was that Clarke had eaten all of the bulalo. Surely, if it was awful then she would’ve just left it.
Octavia had spent the rest of the week teasing him in a half-exasperated, half-how is my brother this much of stubborn idiot type of way. Monty and Maya had been just as quiet as Bellamy, probably worried that they would soon be out of a job.
“Well, here we are,” Octavia said, bringing the newspaper into the kitchen where they were all camped out with coffee and worried expressions. “The do or die moment!”
She handed the magazine over to Bellamy with a ceremonious gesture and anxiety erupted in his stomach. He flicked through the pages quickly until he found Clarke’s weekly article.
“Fuck!” he exhaled as he read the opening paragraph.
“Share how bad it is then,” Octavia said, grabbing Lincoln’s hand, who was there for moral support but apparently he wasn’t quick enough and Octavia snatched the magazine out his hand and began to read out loud.
“If you have strong feelings about what you want to eat, then I suggest you do not go to Tara Kain. The Head Chef, Bellamy Blake, rules his customer’s palate as well as his kitchen.
My first experience of Filipino cuisine came when my father, Jake Griffin, returned from filming a series exploring South-East Asian cuisine took me to try Filipino food. My father ordered us chicken adobo and I fell in love. It became a tradition of ours that we would go every free Wednesday to eat that dish. It became our special thing to do.
When I heard of the rise of Tara Kain, I was keen to go and try out the food there. Everyone I spoke to raved about the food there, so I decided to review this up and coming restaurant. As befitting the tradition I held with my father, I ordered chicken adobo, hoping to be transported back to happy evenings spent with my father.
However, Bellamy Blake had other ideas.
Octavia lifted her head from the article and looked in alarm at Bellamy, who had his head in his hands in sheer agony.
“God, you messed this up, Bell. You messed this up really badly!”
“It might not be so bad,” Monty said kindly.
“Fuck!” was all Bellamy could say.
So, instead of the chicken adobo, I was served a dish called bulalo. At first, I was indignant at being told that my palate needed educating.
“Really, Bell?” Octavia said.
“You read the first part of the article. The only Filipino dish she really knows is chicken adobo, it did need educating, O.”
His sister shot him a withering glare but bending her head over the article once more.
But it is obvious that Bellamy Blake knows what he is talking about. I would never have tried bulalo if I had not been forced. My own sentimental attachment to chicken adobo had blinded me to other options I could’ve been eating this whole time.
“Oh my God!” Octavia said, scanning over the rest of article in quickly. “It’s a positive review!”
Bellamy snatched the magazine out of her hands, not ready to believe it until he saw it himself in print. Words like delicious, sublime, highly recommended floated off the page and he could do nothing but stare in shock.
Reading over his shoulder, Monty clapped his back in congratulations before he said, “You’re going to need to hire more staff. This place is going to be packed.”
The phone started ringing that afternoon with people wanting to book a table until they were taking bookings months in advance. Octavia sat on the laptop at the bar, her eyes going wider and wider at the number of hits they got on their website before she had to move so they could open up.
It was a good job Lincoln had stuck around because she was completely over-run at the front and a queue quickly developed, snaking down the street of people waiting for a table and they needed someone to man the door whilst she served the tables.
“If it continues like this, you’re going to need to expand,” she said, rushing in with more orders. “It’s crazy out there.”
“Let the hype die down, O, before you start putting grandiose plans into action.”
But the hype didn’t die down. The demand for a table at Tara Kain continued unabated. A week after the review came out, Bellamy found it framed and hung behind the small bar and he read the first few paragraphs again.
He didn’t actually regret making Clarke Griffin try something else, but he did feel guilty for assuming that she only chose chicken adobo because she was unadventurous when it came to unfamiliar food. He’d jumped to conclusions out of annoyance that she hadn’t chosen the dish he’d wanted her to eat when in fact her decision had been about sentimentality.
The guilt gnawed away at him, he tried to bat it away but it continued to reside like a lead weight at the bottom of his stomach.
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Bellamy caved ten days after the review had come out and turned up at Clarke’s office with chicken adobo take out.
She sitting on a sofa and was hunched over her laptop, which was resting on a coffee table, typing furiously and he hesitated a little before he knocked. He hadn’t exactly been the nicest person when she was in his restaurant but then this was meant to be his apology.
Knocking quietly, Bellamy gave an awkward wave with his soft, “Hey,” as she looked up, a surprised expression on her face.
“Bellamy Blake? What are you doing here?"
“Er…I brought you lunch.”
Clarke raised an eyebrow and asked, “Why?”
“It might have escaped your notice but I was a bit of an asshole when we met.”
“A bit?” she said with an amused snort.
He smiled. “Yeah, okay, I was a dick and I shouldn’t have dictated what you ate. Here,” he said holding out the bag.
“What’s this?”
“Chicken adobo. I…er…read your review.”
“I made you feel bad, didn’t I?”
“A bit,” he replied.
“Good,” she said and grabbed the bag out of his hand. She opened up the contained and a grin spread over her face as she inhaled it. “Oh, this smells so good.”
Bellamy’s favourite thing about cooking was watching someone’s face when they bit into a dish you’d made and closed their eyes in appreciation and just savoured that first bite. He found that he really enjoyed this look on Clarke’s face.
“Well, I wanted to bring that by as an apology,” he said turning towards the door.
“Wait!” she exclaimed. “Why don’t you seat down and share this with me?”
“Clarke! What’s that amazing smell?” a voice called from outside before a stunningly attractive Latina leant against the doorframe.
Her eyes appraised the scene in front of her before she sauntered into the office and made a grabby hand motion towards Clarke who sighed and fished another plastic spoon out of the bag.
“Hot asshole chef?” the brunette asked, sitting across from them both and digging her spoon into the food.
Bellamy turned his head to Clarke, who was blushing and looking anywhere but at him made an agreeing noise and said, “Bellamy, this is Raven Reyes. She’s the Science and Technology Editor here. Raven, this is Bellamy who cooks sublime food.”
“Good to know that you didn’t get that review just because you’re pretty to look at,” Raven said appreciatively. “This is really good.”
“Er…thanks?” Bellamy said, the word coming out as more of a question.
Raven gave him a nod and then swiped one of the lumpia.
“Anyway, I better go,” he said, getting up from the sofa. “I need to get ready for the dinner time rush.”
There was a flash of disappointment in Clarke’s eyes, which meant he couldn’t help adding conversationally, “You know, there are still a lot of Filipino dishes you’ve yet to try. You’re always welcome to back to the restaurant to find some more favourites.”
He flushed as he caught Raven smirking into a spoonful of rice out the corner of his eye.
“When I get the hankering for Filipino food, I definitely know where to go,” Clarke replied.
It wasn’t quite the response he was looking for, but he stifled his disappointment, waving goodbye instead.
“He totally wants to bang you,” Raven said loudly as soon as he was out of sight and he felt himself reddened. However, he stopped, wanting to hear Clarke’s reply.
“Shut up, Raven. He felt guilty after he read my review.”
“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to bang you as well. Besides, that just limits your reasons not to hit that by proving that he’s not that much of an asshole.”
There was a thump which he took to mean Clarke had hit Raven.
“Well, if you’re not going to discover some more ‘favourites’,” Raven continued with heavy innuendo. “Then I’ll go and check out his restaurant.”
“What and break Wells’ heart?”
“Yeah, because that’s the only thing you’re worried about here.”
He made his way to the elevator with a smile on his face.
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However, three weeks passed without any sign of Clarke. The anticipation that had fluttered in his stomach disappeared and Bellamy resigned himself to the fact that she wasn’t actually into him.
Then one particularly busy Tuesday night, Octavia stuck her head into the kitchen and said, “There’s someone out here to see you, Bell.”
She had an obnoxious smirk on her face but he was too busy trying to get a billion orders out to pay it much attention and just said, “I don’t have time to come out so just send them in here.”
He heard the kitchen doors open but was in the middle of plating up four orders so didn’t look up.
“Wow, this place is heaving. I was hoping to get a table but the queue almost reaches the next block.”
Bellamy’s head snapped up and he saw Clarke standing there, looking tanned and gorgeous hovering just inside the kitchen.
“Hey Clarke!” he said enthusiastically, ignoring the curious looks both Monty and Maya were shooting them. “Pull up a stool and I’ll get you something to eat in here.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Nope. Besides, you can make sure I’m not a fake like that Cage Wallace guy.”
She snorted at that and said, “I never had any doubts on that score. Cage Wallace was incapable of suggesting anything that wasn’t a classic French dish and you pretty much refused to serve me the most popular Filipino meal in outrage at my choices.”
“Yeah, I’m still sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. I mean, you still would’ve got a good review with your chicken adobo, but I wouldn’t have discovered how delicious bulalo is.”
“If you were coming to eat bulalo tonight then I hate to disappoint you, but it’s not the menu today. Chicken adobo however is always served.”
“Nah, I was planning on asking you to surprise me. I was thinking about your food the whole time I was away in Argentina.”
He stopped what he was doing then, to lift his head and smile at her. His heart soared with the realisation that she’d been away and hadn’t left it so long to come out of indifference. “Give me half an hour and make sure you have a third dish to crave.”
Bellamy wasn’t usually a fan of having an audience in his kitchen. It tended to find it distracting and he would end up snapping at whoever it was to get out. Yet, Clarke was different. She had a calming presence, making him feel that no matter how crazy it got, he would be able to rise to the challenge. She didn’t expect to be entertained either, happy to watch him and his team work and occasionally asking questions.
Monty and Maya didn’t appear to mind her being there either. After checking what she could do, and making sure she met the hygienic standards, Maya let her take over some of the chopping, freeing her up to give Monty a hand, who happily chatted to Clarke about his favourite South Korean dishes and restaurants she should check out.
It was amazing how much she seemed to slot into the running of the kitchen even if she wasn’t actually meant to be there.
Finally, the rush on orders died down and Bellamy was able to prepare her something new to try. Sinigang using strawberries, which was an ingredient he liked to use as Baguio was the strawberry growing region of the Philippines.
He couldn’t help but be proud that he reduced Clarke to silence as she slurped her way through it with satisfied noises. However, he ignored the amused look that Monty threw him as he watched her for a tad longer than normal.
Clarke left not long afterwards, after trying to pay for the food and then thanking him for feeding her for free and allowing her to clutter up his kitchen.
Monty and Maya kept quiet once she’d gone, but Bellamy caught the expressive looks they kept shooting each other, but didn’t call them out on it as he didn’t want to listen to their teasing. He was sure he was going get enough of that from his sister.
And sure enough, Octavia spent the whole of cleaning up process smugly teasing him about Clarke and dramatically quoting Duke Orsino’s “music be the food of love” speech, despite him pointing out that Shakespeare had been talking about music and not actual food.
That was nothing compared to how much she grinned when Clarke appeared two days later, declaring that it was Thursday and if bulalo was not his chef’s special of the day, then he was going to have to make some especially for her as she had to have it and right now! As luck had it, he had decided to keep it on the menu as Thursday’s special so he slid a large bowl of it under her nose.
It became a habit after then, Octavia would no longer bother to announce her presence, and Clarke would just wander in, help out when it was needed, but otherwise would just perch on a stool and nibble on whatever Bellamy passed her.
However, she never stayed until they closed and Bellamy hadn’t quite worked up the courage to ask her out despite Octavia telling him he was useless and that it was obvious Clarke wasn’t just coming for the food.
Then one night, a couple of months in, she stayed until they were officially closed. She helped Maya clean up the stations, loading and unloading the dishwashers and generally showing no sign of going home even after Monty and Maya had left.
“We’re done out the front,” Octavia said coming into the kitchen. “Do you want me to wait with you until you lock up?”
“No, it’s fine. Lincoln will be waiting.”
“Sure, that’s the reason you don’t want me hanging around,” Octavia said, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.
He scowled at her and pushed her back out the door.
“Keep it sanitary,” she called.
Bellamy groaned and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Sorry about her,” he said. “She’s just obnoxious.”
“It’s okay. I might not have a sibling, but I have Raven and she’s just as good at embarrassing me.”
“Let’s make a pact now to never introduce them.”
Clarke laughed and said, “Neither of us would come out that meeting with much dignity intact.”
A slightly awkward silence fell between them and Bellamy scrubbed at a non-existence smear before he took a deep breath and said, “Do you want-” just as Clarke began to speak too.
They broke off and looked at each other before she said, “Sorry. You go.”
“I was just going to ask if you wanted to on an actual date with me. You know, if you wanted to.”
Clarke grinned at him. “I was beginning to think you were super unperceptive.”
“There was nothing stopping you from asking me out.”
“Yeah, but I was already pretty much stalking you at work.”
“Wait, if you go out with me, does that mean you won’t hang out in the kitchen anymore?”
She grabbed him by the collar of his chef’s coat and pulled him down until his lips were millimetres away from hers and said, “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
“Good he murmured before he pressed his mouth against hers.