…In the end, I teamed up with the home ec teacher.
How could I say no to her burning enthusiasm?
I didn’t have the guts to handle her housewife-level determination.
“Alright, everyone, the ingredients are ready, so make your favorite pasta! Creamy pasta with milk or tomato pasta would be great!”
Everyone put on aprons and cooking caps.
The class buzzed with excitement, eyes sparkling at the ingredients.
“How about mala pasta?”
“Oh! That could be good!”
…What’s good about that?
Just follow the recipe. The recipe.
“Oh! And I’m planning to make risotto to go with the pasta.”
“Really, teacher!?”
“Wow, that sounds delicious!”
“Since you’re all growing kids, pasta alone might not be enough!”
Everyone knows the home ec teacher’s a great cook.
Her words got cheers from the class.
“But I have a favor to ask. I can’t watch everyone at once, so be careful and take it slow, okay?”
“Psh, pasta’s no big deal, teacher.”
“We did tons of cooking in first year. This is a piece of cake.”
The students nodded confidently.
It’s always the cocky ones who mess up.
“Great. I’ll be in the prep room, so call me if anything happens!”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Printed pasta recipes were handed out to each group.
Like they said, we did a lot of cooking in first year.
Pasta’s relatively easy, and with a recipe, nothing should go wrong.
Or so you’d think.
You’d be surprised how many people are terrible at cooking. I know this all too well.
Something’s bound to go wrong, I can feel it…
“Hoshino-kun? Let’s go.”
“…Yes, ma’am.”
Whatever, it’s not my problem.
I followed the teacher into the prep room.
‘Oh?’
Teaming up with her was actually a blessing.
I thought I’d be stuck getting private lessons under everyone’s watchful eyes.
Like, “Hoshino-kun, when you chop onions, do it like this.”
But the prep room’s walled off, so no one’s staring. Absolute win.
“What pasta are you making, Hoshino-kun?”
“Hm, I’m fine with anything. What do you feel like eating, teacher?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, we’re a team, right?”
“Oh, right! Then I’d love some aglio e olio.”
“Let’s do that then.”
“You sure?”
“Totally. I like aglio e olio too.”
Honestly, I just wanted to eat the lunch I packed.
But I’d need her permission for that.
If I mentioned it, she’d probably lecture me with, “Hoshino-kun, no way!” So I dropped it.
“Good! I’ll teach you how to make aglio e olio before I start the risotto!”
“No need. You’re busy, right? I can handle aglio e olio alone. I know the recipe.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Don’t expect a masterpiece, though.”
“Not at all. If you follow the recipe, it’ll be just as good as mine!”
My past-life memories are mostly fuzzy now, but the instincts stuck.
That’s why I can cook.
I worked plenty of food service jobs back then.
Packing lunches every day kept those skills sharp.
“Then I’ll leave the pasta to you, Hoshino-kun.”
“Sounds good. I’m looking forward to your risotto, teacher.”
“You got it!”
The teacher rolled up her sleeves, brimming with enthusiasm.
I started boiling water to cook the pasta.
Until the water boiled, there wasn’t much to do. Just slice some garlic.
Olive oil, minced garlic, and peperoncino were already prepped.
So, I watched her make the risotto.
Feeling awkward, I spoke up.
“What stock are you using? Chicken?”
“Oh! You know your stuff, Hoshino-kun. Chicken stock’s common, but I brought something special.”
She pulled a heavy pot from the fridge.
A savory aroma wafted from under the lid.
“Chicken broth? You made it yourself?”
“Yup. Prepared it last night for today.”
Real chicken broth, no MSG.
That’s gonna be good.
“Looks like a lot.”
“With twenty-five students, I’m making at least thirty portions.”
“That’s gotta be tough.”
“It’s fine. I’ve done this a lot, so it’s a breeze.”
She neatly arranged the ingredients.
“First, I’ll chop the mushrooms and onions—”
Then, a burnt smell drifted in from outside.
Followed by voices.
—What’s that? Is the pasta burning?
—Huh? The water’s not even boiling, why’s it burning?
…Because you put the pasta in before the water boiled, idiot.
It’s the most rookie mistake when making pasta.
Unless you’re using a huge pot that fully submerges the pasta, regular pots—like the ones in this home ec room—aren’t big enough.
If you put pasta in boiling water, it softens and sinks quickly. Otherwise, the part touching the pot burns before it cooks.
“Oh…”
The teacher, knife in hand, met my eyes.
I knew this would happen.
“…I’ll chop. You go check, teacher.”
“Th-Thanks! Be right back!”
She’s a home ec teacher but prioritizes her students over cooking.
She rushed out of the prep room.
“Sigh.”
I sighed and finely chopped shiitake, button mushrooms, onions, and green onions.
By the time she returned, wiping sweat from her forehead, I was done.
“Oh, Hoshino-kun, thank you! You’re really good at this!”
“Just chopping, no big deal.”
She sighed in relief, washed her hands, and stood at the frying pan.
For thirty portions, the pan was huge.
She heated olive oil in the pan and tossed in the chopped ingredients.
Just then, my water started boiling.
I portioned out pasta for two and put it in.
“Heh, smells good—”
She was beaming, stirring the ingredients, when—
Crash!
—Aaagh! My finger! My finger!
Our eyes met again.
“…I’ll handle the pan.”
“Thanks, Hoshino-kun! Be right back!”
She bolted out again.
…I regret putting the pasta in.
Should’ve skipped it.
“Ugh.”
No choice now. It’s just boiling pasta, so it’s fine.
The mushrooms and onions were browning nicely.
When the onions turned translucent, she returned.
“I aged ten years. It was just a small cut.”
“That’s a relief.”
I handed the pan back.
“Wow, you’re amazing, Hoshino-kun. Ever made risotto before?”
“Yeah, sort of.”
She resumed cooking with a big smile.
She added rice to the browned ingredients.
Then, she stirred vigorously and poured in white wine.
Now comes the tough part.
You have to keep stirring so the rice doesn’t stick.
I got a bad feeling, but thankfully, nothing happened.
I drained my pasta, spread it evenly on a plate, and covered it with a lid.
“Oh, using that method?”
“Yeah. It makes the texture better.”
It’s called resting in fancy terms.
The residual heat finishes cooking it.
Not that I use this method much.
I’m the “food’s food” type.
Why bother with the hassle?
I was just keeping my hands free, just in case.
…Though nothing happening is the best outcome.
“Man, this smells amazing!”
“Heh, worth all my hard work.”
The wine’s alcohol evaporated, and she poured in the chicken broth.
The savory aroma hit my nose as it started simmering.
“Phew, looks like everyone’s doing okay now.”
“Uh… teacher, don’t jinx—”
Crash!
—What!? Why does it taste like this!?
—It’s supposed to be like that!
—What!? You’re supposed to drain the water before adding the sauce!?
…Did they seriously pour sauce into the pasta water?
That’s next-level.
“Uh… Hoshino-kun…?”
“…I’ll keep reducing it.”
“Okay!”
She dashed off.
Same old routine.
I’m starting to think she picked me as her cooking assistant.
No other explanation makes sense.
“This is basically me cooking, isn’t it?”
Add chicken broth.
Stir and reduce.
Add chicken broth.
Stir and reduce.
·
·
·
Even after several rounds, she didn’t come back.
The risotto was already thick.
“Sigh.”
One last step.
Emulsification.
Also known as mantecare.
Since it uses both water and oil, you vigorously shake the pan to blend them.
That’s the magic of risotto.
“Here we go.”
As expected.
I added butter and cheese, then grabbed the pan’s handles with both hands.
The weight of the pan and thirty portions of rice was no joke.
“Hoo.”
I took a deep breath.
“Uoooooooh!”
I started shaking the pan with fierce determination.
Wok skills.
You need careful control so the rice doesn’t fly everywhere.
Who needs exercise? Cooking is exercise!
“Hey, the teacher sent me to help—”
A blonde, blue-eyed girl walked into the prep room.
Kurokawa Kyoka.
Her eyes widened when she saw me.