Splatterpunk's Basement of Horror by unknow

Splatterpunk's Basement of Horror by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Splatterpunk Zine
Published: 2023-11-30T23:00:00+00:00


Mochés

By Robert Essig

Chef Fontaine couldn’t believe it. He’d managed to create yet another astonishing dish that had taken the culinary world by storm. Food Magazine was scheduled for an interview and photo shoot next week. It wasn’t exactly the caviar of food literature, but Fontaine wasn’t picky on his rise to fine dining fame. Every article, every exposé, every television interview was a brick in the wall of total culinary domination.

On this night his new signature dish, mochés, was being consumed by famous San Diego food critic Horatio Stevenson. Horatio wrote for such exquisite local fares as Fine Dining in San Diego, North County Living, and La Jolla Lifestyles. His articles were often published in national magazines such as Wine and Country, Rich Life, and Troubadour. Not to mention his local reviews were often reprinted in the New York Times and other major publications across the country.

Horatio Stevenson was a big deal. Chef Fontaine knew him well. Horatio had critiqued many a dish, always giving rave reviews, which, if Fontaine’s head wasn’t so big, he couldn’t deny as being one of the driving forces to his notoriety.

Fontaine only greeted his most esteemed customers with a special appetizer when he thought he could get something out of them. Politicians, dignitaries, filthy rich activists, that sort of person. Horatio was no exception. And the appetizer was the dish he was there to critique.

“Chef Fontaine,” Horatio said, “so great to see you again.”

Fontaine approached the table with a bowl in hand and a smile that was only vaguely removed from a condescending smirk. This was all show. Fontaine didn’t give a damn about Horatio as a person. All he wanted was a good review. Perhaps Mochés would be the dish that catapulted is fame worldwide.

“So great to see you, Horatio,” Fontaine said as he stopped at the table, cradling the bowl. “What I have for you today is a dish that will send your senses into uncharted plateaus of ecstasy.”

A server saddled up to Fontaine carrying a stainless steel gravy boat held in a pristine white cloth.

Fontaine placed the dish before Horatio. He looked into the critic’s eyes, trying to read his first response, but Horatio was a stoic man who kept his observations to himself. Outside of the smile greeting, he was all business and would remain so for the rest his evening in Fontaine’s five star restaurant, never once giving even the slightest hint of whether he enjoyed a dish or not. Fontaine always watched him closely, hoping for a glimpse of emotion to indicate what could be expected in the write up, but Horatio was a master of keeping himself in check at all times while sampling a dish he was to critique.

Horatio looked up at Fontaine, but said nothing. His eyes indicated that he wanted an explanation, but it was as if he feared verbally expressing such a thing would reveal too much of his first impressions.

“I present you Mochés,” Fontaine said.

In the bowl was a writhing of large worms that resembled maggots, each one speckled with tiny red measles-like dots.



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