Absinthe

Chapter 27: The Pillars Of The West And The East

Jiwoo was gone by the time Nico and I came out of the shower room. Being the overly dramatic person

that he is, I think he had taken the test results to heart and was probably lashing out his anger at some

poor guy somewhere in the city. Whew. Why hadn't he listened to my advice?

"Now that the tests are over, wanna hang out and drink?"

I turned and saw Nico towel drying his hair. He's a handsome fellow, too. His mixed heritage highlights

his almond-shaped eyes and the well-defined ridge of his nose.

"We can invite Vivi, too," he added. "There's a bar nearby that I've always wanted to try. I think it's

called The Schwa."

"It's a gay bar," I answered back as I finished applying some basic skincare products on my face. "A

high-end gay bar."

"Really?" Nico sounded genuinely surprised. "But it's rumored to serve some of the best cocktails in the

city."

"Well, they're not exclusively for gays, though."

"Problem solved then. I'll ask Vivi!"

"Are you sure you guys won't feel out of place or anything?"

Nico winked and smiled. "If people hit on me, I'll just tell them I'm already taken. By you."

Vivi agreed to go with us to the Schwa, but we decided to go back to our houses first to prepare.

Apparently, we all lived in the same area. Nico was in the condominium complex as I was but in a

different building. Vivi, on the other hand, lived in another premium condominium complex nearby.

Suddenly, I remembered that Derrick had invited me to hang out at Janus' bar. I quickly found my way

to his room and invited him to join us that night. Luckily, he agreed when I told him that Nico was hot

and possibly gay, too.

"Wear something slutty, okay? I'll go get changed."

Derrick laughed and nodded before shutting his door close.

After a few more minutes, we were driving to The Schwa. Derrick was wearing a pastel-colored dress

shirt and a pair of white chinos. It was simple and preppy at the same time, allowing him to exude an

aura of success and professionalism.

In contrast to Derrick's smart attire, I was wearing street fashion—torn and skinny black jeans; a gray

shirt with an asymmetrical neckline; a pair of shiny, black Dr. Martens; and an oversized, pale brown

overcoat. I should say I'd nailed my outfit. It wouldn't be a problem for me to charm some guys that

night.

Once there, we were met with an unbelievable crowd. The entire place was packed. Derrick and I

fought our way across tables and guys mingling around, toward the central bar where Janus was

stationed. I saw Nico waving at us as we approached, with Vivi sitting comfortably beside him.

"Guys, this is one of my best friends, Dr. Derrick Evangelista."

Derrick greeted them and shook both their hands.

"Derrick, these are my classmates, Nico and Vivi."

"Where's Jiwoo?"

"You know Jiwoo?" Nico asked.

"We haven't met, but BJ and that guy over there are friends with Jiwoo," Derrick answered, pointing to

Janus who was currently serving some drinks at the other side of the counter. "So I've heard a lot about

him already."

Nico nodded. "I don't think he's coming."

"Not a problem," Derrick said, slyly tapping Nico's broad shoulders as he inserted himself into the seat

next to the latter. His slut game was officially on.

Janus came over and greeted us warmly. I introduced Vivi and Nico to him as well, and we all ordered

drinks.

"Today's the launch of our new gourmet cocktails!" Janus said excitedly. "I developed one of the drinks

myself. Can I get it for any of you?"

I beamed. "Sure thing! What's it called?"

"Husband Material."

I snorted on instinct and so did Derrick. "Is it because you're getting married soon?"

Janus chuckled before answering, "Don't jinx it. But I made this drink for gay men like you who are

perfect husband material."

"Interesting," Nico remarked. "So what's the thought process behind it?"

"Homophobes laugh at gay men and don't consider them good enough to be called men. But let's face

it: gay men have grit, sometimes even more than straight men do. This drink is a tribute to that. I mixed

the flavors to pack a punch yet be refined and artistic and colorful. Those are the qualities of the ideal novelbin

husband, or at least the kind of husband I would like to be."

"I can't wait to taste it!" exclaimed Vivi. "And it's the first time I've heard someone describe gay men as

husband material. But when you think about it, it's kinda true, isn't it?"

"4 Husband Materials coming right up." Janus smiled and disappeared to his station to prep our drinks.

"I agree with Vivi," Derrick said. "The media portrays us as sugar daddies to handsome, young guys,

and it's disgusting and true at the same time. But when you look at it, it's really because we're

providers, aren't we? Successful or not."

"Yeah," answered Vivi. "Even less successful gays find ways to provide for their families and their

boyfriends. That is nothing short of amazing."

"I really like you," Derrick said to Vivi, who laughed at the statement.

"I'm an ally." she said. "Always and forever!"

"But you're straight, right?"

"So far I've only dated men, but men are trash, so I'm not closing my doors to anyone," Vivi explained,

also making Derrick chuckle. "No offense to you guys," she added.

"Definitely none taken," Derrick replied.

"Definitely some offense taken!" Nico butted in.

Janus arrived and served our drinks. "So what's your story?" he asked, addressing Vivi.

She took a sip of her cocktail before describing her life working for the metro's only 6-star East Asian

hotel, the Orient, as one of its Chinese cuisine kitchen staff.

Chinese cuisine is traditionally populated with male chefs arguably because of the strength-intensive

techniques in cooking Chinese food. It typically involves heavy kitchen tools and equipment like the

wok, the heavy rectangular knife designed for almost all cutting styles, big bamboo poles for noddle

and dumpling making, and of course, their unique use of strong flames. Those are the reasons I often

hear people mention when talking about the dominance of men in Chinese cuisine.

It may be true, but I call it BS. Most of those in the industry are just misogynist. I mean, think about it—

they also claim that women belong in the kitchen and that they are not good enough to do anything

else except house chores like cooking. They're clearly contradicting themselves when they say that

women don't belong in the world of Chinese cuisine.

Vivi seemed to harbor those very same thoughts. "They said my skinny woman arms can't possibly

knead noodles," she said. "The nerve!" Derrick and Janus were in total agreement with her, nodding at

her every word. "Those fuckers don't know that you need proper hip and leg technique to properly

transfer your energy from your center of gravity to your hands when kneading dough for noodles!"

"I didn't really understand that last bit, but I totally agree with you. Men are assholes!" Derrick said as

he raised his glass for a toast.

"Hear, hear!" rallied Vivi and Janus in unison. Nico was quiet as he sipped his drink.

"What about you, pretty boy?" asked Janus. "What's your story?"

"I'm a boring person," replied Nico. "My dad's a chef from France, and my mom's a patisserie student in

France. She's Filipina. They got married there and came back here to set up their own restaurant. I

grew up in the kitchen so here I am."

"Which restaurant does your family own?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"Le Chaumiere," he answered quietly.

Vivi and I almost spat out our drinks. "The Le Chaumiere?" we asked simultaneously.

"You can't really call it The Le Chaumiere because le and the mean the same thing—"

"Shush," Vivi said. "You know what we mean!"

"Yeah," I said, chuckling. "But seriously? Le Chaumiere? That's like the best authentic French

restaurant in the country. It's sad that it only has one Michelin star."

"I see," Derrick commented. "Then what style of cooking is Chef Maxwell's resto?"

"It's really hard to tell," Vivi answered. "His restaurant specializes in perfecting the utilization of the best

ingredients. As you know, they keep changing the menu depending on which types of food are in

season."

"What do you mean?" asked Janus.

"For example, if this is the season for harvesting strawberries, Chef Maxwell's menu will feature a lot of

strawberry-based dishes, from starters to desserts," I explained.

"Including entrees?" Derrick asked.

I nodded. "Uh-huh, and main courses."

"That makes his restaurant totally unpredictable but incredibly innovative," added Nico. "No wonder

he's the only one here with two Michelin stars."

"I wonder how 3-star Michelin food tastes like," Janus said, the glint in his eyes hinting that he was

imagining all sorts of fancy dishes.

"Well, that's what you guys are aiming to achieve, right? The country's first 3 Michelin stars?" Derrick

asked again.

The three of us looked at each other before Nico said, "That seems to be the case. It looked like all four

of us were chosen by Chef Maxwell for a reason."

"And what might that be aside from the fact that all of you cook amazingly well?" Janus joked.

Nico hesitated before speaking. "I think I was chosen because of my extensive knowledge in French

and Italian cuisine. The techniques I learned all those years training in my father's kitchen are now

second nature to me. Chef Maxwell's planning to use my skills when he tries to create a menu that

worthy of 3 Michelin stars."

Vivi gave a deep sigh before she spoke. "You might not believe this, but I'm not only good at making

Chinese dishes. I'm actually an expert in washoku."

"Washo what?" Derrick asked.

"Washoku is the blanket term for Japanese cuisine," I answered. "Forgive me for saying this, but you

don't look the part at all!"

"That's exactly the reason why I quit," Vivi said. "Since I was little, I've been subjected to rigorous

training in Japanese tea ceremony, Japanese noodle making, and all sorts of Japanese cuisine,

including sushi."

We were all staring at her, transfixed.

"And washoku is not just cooking—it's more like theatrical cooking. We are artisans preserving

centuries-old traditions, each and every movement of our cooking presented to the customers like a

dance. And I simply can't stand it."

I understood where she was coming from. It must be suffocating having to strictly follow all the

guidelines of washoku cooking.

"I can't dye my hair. I can't cut my hair too short. I can't get piercings and tattoos. I'm not allowed to

anything that's not part of the washoku tradition!"

"Wait a minute," I said. "Why'd you have to learn washoku?"

"My full name is Vivian Nakamura. My father is the owner and head chef of Shunkashuutou."

"Shunkashuutou," repeated Nico. "The oldest surviving Japanese traditionalist restaurant in the

country, and the only Japanese restaurant outside Japan to have been recognized by the Japanese

Gourmet Council. It also boasts one Michelin star."

"I left because I wanted to rebel against their suffocating practices, only to find the world of Sichuan

cuisine to be full of misogynists!" Vivi exclaimed.

"Le Chaumiere and Shunkashuutou—the pillars of traditionalist and haute cuisine restaurants

representing the East and the West," I said. "You guys are totally next level! Vivi, your knowledge of

Asian-style preparations combined with Nico's expertise in western preparations is the exact type of

fusion gourmet cuisine Chef Maxwell's restaurant is famous for!"

They all nodded in agreement, but it made me wonder why I was chosen by Chef Maxwell, too.

"I don't have your expertise in washoku or Chinese cuisine," I said, talking to Vivi. "And I'm not as good

in European gourmet food as you," I told Nico. "So why did Chef Maxwell take me?"

I was racking my brains over that when a pair of hands caused me to turn my head. They belonged to

Jiwoo, who suddenly kissed me.

Fuck! I thought. What is happening right now?

He was so strong. His hands kept my head locked in place. His mouth was forceful, opening mine with

such tenacity that my resistance broke, and yet his lips were tender. They were soft and graceful,

gently massaging both my lower and upper lips as he nibbled on them.

I thought that was the end of it, but I was wrong.

His tongue found its way inside my mouth, and he was suddenly caressing mine with his, coaxing me

to do the same as he probed deeper and deeper.

I felt his left hand leave the side of my face, only to feel it moments later caressing my back. My hands

involuntarily reached for his shoulders both in an effort to support myself from hopelessly collapsing

onto the floor while he kissed me as well as a desperate plea to keep him there.

I swear to God I didn't know what was going on. Why was this man suddenly kissing me out of

nowhere? But I didn't care anymore. All I knew was that I was enjoying it. And I intended to enjoy it for

as long as it lasted.