Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The Earl of Derby

Mr. Henry readily answered that he would try inviting Major Robert Scott, no, now promoted to Lieutenant Colonel Robert Scott, to the restaurant.

The day after finishing the successful opening, I started focusing on improving the service quality of the restaurant. Even though I prepared hard, there were still many insufficient parts in my eyes.

"Attire! Walking! I told you so much to be careful!"

"Eek!"

It seemed additional etiquette education was needed for Emily who had been playing around without knowing the world on Baker Street.

Dad returned home again. Saying that if we stopped selling Chicken and Chips a riot might break out. Instead, Uncle Thomas from Emily's family quit being a carpenter and stuck next to Dad. With the money earned they repaired the house, added stoves, and became able to sell more Chicken and Chips.

I felt sorry to Grandma Main the landlady that the front of the house became too noisy, but she rather said it was good that there were more people after being lonely.

So as a return I made delicious Chicken and Chips for her.

Anyway, right now Chicken and Chips was a huge trend throughout London. So the gentry visiting our restaurant out of curiosity also increased. According to what I heard from the newspaper sellers, cases of stall vendors who sold fish and chips switching to chicken increased a lot. So I rather took a breather.

Anyway, the know-how and taste can't be easily copied. Because even the most basic ingredient supply is impossible. If the overflowing demand can be dispersed, it was rather more beneficial.

But what am I doing where? Currently I've made a room cum office in one corner of the building and am staying and eating there. Going back and forth from Baker Street was too annoying and cumbersome.

"Hmm... How do I fix the exhaust system?"

There were various problems, but the most urgent was exactly this. Based on previous life experience I thought just introducing the hood would solve the problem, but as expected the output of the motor was the problem. It seems the introduction of the electric motor is premature. But changing to a coal-type motor is too cumbersome. I can't have someone keep shoveling coal like a train.

"Would adjusting the position of the exhaust pipe a bit more be better?"

That was also one method. While I was paying attention to something else for a moment and couldn't supervise, the workers who knew nothing installed it roughly as they pleased. The moment I saw it hung by roughly nailing plywood, my blood pressure almost soared. Making a hole in the exhaust pipe, what on earth are they trying to do?!

There was one more problem. This was a part I hadn't expected at all.

About ten days after opening the restaurant, Mr. Henry came to my office.

"Young Jean, it's a bit awkward to say this, but there's something you need to know."

"What's the matter, Mr. Henry?"

"Acquaintances who visited our restaurant carefully asked. Why we didn't prepare wine."

"Wine...?"

"Actually, I've already heard that five times. At this point even I got curious. Is there no wine that suits our Chicken and Chips?"

To summarize, our noble gentry visitors were saying they were disappointed that appropriate wine wasn't provided with the meal.

This was definitely my lack of experience. Seriously, is wine absolutely necessary when eating? I can't understand the sensibility of London's upper class at all, but since Mr. Henry also said it was a very important part, it must really be so.

Actually, I'm ignorant about wine. I only know that Bordeaux wine from France is good. I'm not a sommelier, and after coming to London I was poor so I didn't even have a chance to look at a wine bottle! Moreover, what they drink is not cheap cooking wine but real high-class and expensive wine.

Of course I feel like shouting that beer should be drunk with Chicken and Chips! But the reason I can't say that openly is because all the alcoholic beer consumed in Britain of this era was ale, so lager was hard to obtain.

Lager with fried chicken. This is an undeniable fact.

What can wash away the greasy taste of chicken is only light and refreshing lager. Ale with strong aroma and complex taste was rather an element that created dissonance. Moreover, without refrigeration technology it's not even cool and has little carbonation. With a chef's pride, it was a pairing I absolutely couldn't match.

But wine? If I were a famous chef like Gordon Ramsay from my previous life, I'd shout 'Get out!' once and stubbornly push my opinion, but unfortunately this is early 20th-century modern society Britain. Above all, it was an era where word of mouth was important.

Even if they diligently gave feedback, if there's no improvement, the risk of them cutting off their footsteps entirely can't be ignored.

Britain of this time was a country of manly pride. Even if the inner heart isn't like that, outwardly they cared immensely about honor and face. If they think they're being ignored, a duel... Fortunately duels were prohibited by law in the early 19th century, but anyway, the method our manly men chose instead of duels was exactly the shady act of backbiting!

Because there are countless gentleman sirs who want to look like real men outwardly but act like lesser men in a petty way, completely ignoring their opinions was difficult.

I frowned and sighed.

"We'll need a sommelier."

In Britain of this era, sommeliers were rather a more in-demand occupation than in modern times. First, every hotel and high-end restaurant had to essentially employ a wine expert. Because that was the general need of the upper class.

In fact, in this era lacking proper customer service and response service, the sommelier anyway took charge of one axis of customer service. In the process of serving wine and preparing wine suited to the customer's taste, they also took the role of receiving insufficient aspects of the meal or complaints.

In that sense it was a necessary occupation group, but the dishes I'm going to put out in the restaurant from now are not Western-style, so is it right to have a sommelier? Wouldn't it be better to introduce rice wine, that is makgeolli, to London? Last time I saw it only took 30 points per bottle.

"Just in time I know a trustworthy wine expert. I'll try to create a meeting place within a few days, so how about consulting with each other?"

"Please do. Customer service is important."

However, if it becomes like that, even I who is responsible for the restaurant's financial state get a headache. Since the purchase price per bottle of wine isn't cheap, losses will occur.

What about hiring a separate finance person? That won't do. Even now I'm bringing a considerable part of the ingredients from my point shop, and I won't be able to explain that. Double books are the basics of basics. So it means I have to hold the purse strings.

Anyway, after that another few days passed in a hurry. The trend of Chicken and Chips continued without brakes. It was so trendy that even in The Morning Post which only the upper class read, a small article appeared at the bottom of page 3.

I who have over 1 year of experience as a newspaper seller instinctively felt. Ah, this is done for.

Unlike modern times where trends change day by day because play and entertainment are abundant, the trends of this era slowly burn up and slowly go out. From that perspective, even now was no different from the very early stage of the trend!

A tremendous fire that might burn all of Europe and then go out if unlucky! Something where you might see the emperor tearing into fried chicken in the Russian imperial court tens of thousands of miles away from Britain!

That intuition of mine was right again this time without fail.

"Jean! Jean! There's a big problem in the office right now! Come back quickly!"

"Why? What is it suddenly making a fuss?"

I can't keep holding the frying equipment forever in that kitchen full of oil vapor. Non-detailed work like frying I left to the newspaper seller disguised employees, and I was devoted to decoration in another kitchen.

"That... It's a very high person! I don't know so Jean, solve it!"

Now Emily also has RP stuck to her mouth quite a bit. In fact, the reason I brought her to my restaurant was also because, even though she hadn't learned much, I knew she was smarter than expected. The opponent that such her would fuss and say is scary was only one.

Nobility. And high-ranking nobility at that.

I hurriedly straightened my clothes and headed to the office. There, an old man who looked cranky accompanied by a servant was sitting with an uncomfortable expression.

Just as I was about to enter the office, the noble's attendant standing in front of the door whispered to me.

"It's the Earl of Derby."

Damn, I definitely stepped in shit. It's real high-ranking nobility.

1901 Britain, a superpower country commanding the whole world from Canada in the west to Australia in the east. So the citizens also call the country Great Britain, a country where the sun never sets.

Even in such a country, earldoms are rare people. From the start, due to the conservative nature of British nobility, knighthoods are issued liberally but from baron up there were almost none. Let alone an earl.

Excluding the almighty dukedoms who almost never leave the castle they reside in for life, and marquessates that you have to be about a war hero to receive, the major positions in the government below them were usually occupied by earldoms by custom.

Among them, if it's the Earl of Derby, the most influential noble in Britain who rules the entire Liverpool including the Lancashire area.

Where do you think the word derby match in soccer originated? It was taken from that name. Because the football clubs of the two cities Liverpool and Everton under the influence of the Earl of Derby competed, it's a derby match.

How do I know this fact? Try working as a newspaper seller for over a year. Even if you don't know, you come to know. People keep asking before buying the newspaper.

But I didn't particularly try to prostrate on the ground or take an extremely low posture. From long experience, these people rather liked people with a straight back saying they have backbone. Just taking respect and politeness according to etiquette was enough.

That part seemed the same for the Earl of Derby. Seeing me not intimidated, curiosity sparkled in the corners of his eyes.

"So, are you the cook who developed this Chicken and Chips? A younger boy than I thought. Age and name?"

"15, no 16. I'm Jean-Paul Durand, Your Lordship the Earl of Derby."

Actually, I don't know my age either. The parents don't know well either. I just roughly guessed based on my development state. Emily too, even if you say she's early teens, looking at the development state it seems more than that.

In this era, it's more strange for a lower-class person to properly know their own age. Most can't even count numbers properly. Actually I want to say 14, but I deliberately rounded up. Because around 16 seemed like I wouldn't be ignored.

"So, you must be curious why I visited here."

The Earl of Derby. He was also an old man around his 60s with a very cranky voice. He rummaged in his bosom and then quietly took out a thick chequebook.

Wait, isn't this a flow I've seen a lot somewhere...

"I want to buy the cooking know-how of Chicken and Chips. Write as you wish."

Damn! I knew it would be like this!

"I'm sorry but that's a very difficult matter. Because I'm bound by a contractual relationship."

"I'll even pay the penalty. How much would be good?"

Rejecting even when a noble says this much doesn't fit etiquette. Especially in 1901 London, it was something just right for dying an unnatural death.

As I hesitated, the attendant standing behind the earl glared sharply with his eyes. The earl noticed that too and raised his hand to restrain the attendant.

"Think comfortably. Is it okay to smoke a pipe for a bit while waiting?"

I nodded. Then the attendant held out a luxurious wooden box to the earl. The earl took out a very elaborately carved ivory-colored pipe from there.

That's ivory. Real ivory.

Damn, why on earth did this person come all the way here to put me in a difficult position. This restaurant is for gentry exclusive, not upper class exclusive.

Can't be helped, when in difficulty the status window is still the best. I turned on the status window and looked into the earl's true feelings.