Chapter 16 – The Secret Recipe
Author's Note: I have created a new novel called The Blind Date System. I am sure you will like it. Check it out.
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Max stood alone in his kitchen, the air filled with a complex aroma of spices, herbs, and roasted chicken. The pressure cooker hissed quietly on the stove, a reminder that time was ticking.
He wasn't paranoid. It was just… this recipe was special.
The Divine Chef System had poured the full details of it into his mind earlier that day—a perfectly balanced grilled chicken infused with **forty-nine precise herbs and spices**. According to the system, the recipe's balance was delicate; one mistake in measurement would ruin it.
So, Max had made the decision:
He would **only prepare the final seasoning himself**. The rest of the prep could be taught to his staff, but this final touch would remain his alone.
He pulled out a new digital scale, freshly purchased from the equipment store. Sensitive down to the gram. Just what he needed.
After carefully measuring the blend, he marinated a single chicken and placed it into the pressure cooker. The machine hissed again, sealing in the flavor.
It wasn't long before the smell filled the small apartment. Warm, savory, rich. Max stepped back, wiping his hands, his heart beating faster.
Then—*knock knock*—a light knock on the door.
"Max? It's Emily."
Max blinked in surprise and moved quickly to open the door.
She stood there, coat half-zipped, her cheeks flushed from the evening air.
"I was walking by and I swear, I could smell something amazing from the street," she said, smiling. "What are you cooking?"
Max chuckled and stepped aside. "Come in. You're right on time, actually
Emily stepped in and looked around. "Wow… it smells incredible. Is this something new?"
He hesitated for a second, then nodded slowly. "Yeah. Just got it today."
"I thought so. You always get that look on your face when something big's coming."
Max pulled the chicken from the cooker and placed it on a wooden board. The skin was golden and glistening, the aroma now nearly overwhelming.
"Give me two minutes. I want you to be the first to try this."
She watched as he plated the chicken with simple sides—just lightly seasoned rice and fresh greens. No distractions from the main event.
When he placed the plate in front of her, she took a breath.
Then, a bite.
Emily's eyes widened instantly.
"Max… this is unreal. The flavor—it's not just good, it's... complicated. Like there's a story in every bite."
Max smiled. "You think customers will like it?"
"Like it? You could build a *chain* on this."
She paused, thinking. "Actually, I've got an idea. You should do a **free tasting event tomorrow**. Small portions, invite everyone who passes by to try it. No one will walk away without ordering the full dish after."
Max considered it. It made sense. Especially now that he had a full team.
He nodded. "Alright. Let's do it."
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### **Ordering Supplies**
After Emily left, Max sat at his desk and opened his notebook.
He started calling his suppliers.
**First, the chicken.**
He dialed Mr. Jennings, the poultry vendor.
"Hey, this is Max from Max's Table. I need **fifty high-quality chickens** delivered tomorrow at 4:30 a.m., same time as the usual supply drop."
"Fifty? That's quite a jump."
"I've got a new dish. Expect more orders soon."
They confirmed the price—**\$6 per chicken**, slightly discounted for bulk—and Max finalized the order.
**Next, the herbs.**
He called the herbal shop he visited earlier in the week.
"Hey, it's Max. I need a repeat of today's order, but with some extras."
"Same 55 herbs?"
"Yes"
He wanted to keep the recipe secret.
He didn't want anyone guessing the actual blend, even if they saw the packages.
"Got it. We'll label everything neutral. Delivery with the rest?"
"Yes, 4:30 a.m. sharp."
**Lastly, the equipment.**
Max called the kitchen supply store and requested two more **large pressure cookers**, some industrial-grade containers, and extra measuring tools.
Tomorrow had to go perfectly.
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Max sat alone in the quiet of his apartment, staring at the leftover herbs on the counter.
He thought about Emily. Her reaction. Her support.
He also thought about the future—not in big, grand dreams, but something real.
A proper **home**. A place bigger than this small studio with creaky pipes and flickering lights. Maybe even a backyard.
He looked at the recipe card again and smiled.
"Let's see if this chicken really is the first step."
Tomorrow wasn't just another day of work.
It was the beginning of **something larger.**
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