The top chefs of this era, when they put in all their skills, often create food that doesn’t taste good.
It sounds strange, given that people at the peak of any field possess abilities beyond the understanding of ordinary people, and yet the food they meticulously prepare is often unpalatable. But the truth is, the food they serve at banquets or balls is not made with taste in mind.
Instead, they lavishly pour pepper into wine, and use color-enhancing spices until the dishes look like painted canvases—all to flaunt their wealth. Naturally, chefs for noble families end up focusing on “presentation” rather than flavor, crafting food that looks impressive but tastes bland.
‘My cakes were popular because they were both beautiful and delicious.’
Even if they had a lot of sugar, it was far less off-putting than pepper or other strong spices.
“Chloe, do you think the food that nobles and the wealthy eat tastes good?”
Chloe shook her head in response.
“The dishes served at banquets are honestly awful. They’re so loaded with spices like pepper and nutmeg that it would be better if they just left them out.”
When ordinary people get a chance to enjoy a high-end buffet, they might even skip dinner the night before to prepare. It’s an opportunity to feast on expensive food—nobles are no exception. Nobles eat relatively modest food compared to what’s served at balls, where everything is gilded and spiced extravagantly.
‘But here, it’s the opposite.’
At balls, which last for hours, nobles eat a lot at home beforehand so they can avoid the heavily spiced dishes as much as possible.
“Kris explained that nobles offer such dishes at events to showcase their wealth, but I don’t really understand why they would make expensive food taste so awful.”
Chloe might be living in luxury with me now, but just three years ago, she was facing the possibility of being sold into slavery from a poor rural area. For her, seeing expensive meats ruined by excessive spices is far from impressive.
And to me, it feels like a waste of good food.
“Kris, what if we made it possible for the city’s middle class or merchants to occasionally enjoy noble food? Do you think nobles would still want to cover their dishes in spices just to flaunt their wealth?”
“They wouldn’t. Nobles aren’t fools; they wouldn’t keep splurging on spices if commoners could access similar food. Currently, the dishes served at these banquets exist solely to showcase ‘wealth beyond comparison with the lower classes.’”
In essence, if middle-class “commoners,” by noble standards, could even once a year dine on dishes similar to theirs, there’d be no reason to serve food so saturated with spices. Not only is it unpleasant, but it would also lose its value as a status symbol.
“My family felt the strain of this even when my father was alive. How do you plan to reduce the cost?”
Kris’s family, the Modina family, were wealthy merchants, ranking within the top 3% of society. But for those just within the top 10-25% wealth bracket to enjoy noble food was nearly impossible—at least by conventional standards.
“When anything is made in large quantities, the cost per unit goes down. So we’ll reduce the variety and scale of dishes in the courses and set it up for multiple groups to dine together. And for many craftsmen and merchants, the issue isn’t necessarily the cost of ingredients but the labor.”
The head chef of a ducal family doesn’t get a monthly wage of four or five gold coins. Being a chef is akin to a government job—like a low-ranking civil servant. They only hold a slightly higher social standing than other craftsmen.
‘Their average pay was around three to four silver coins a month, right?’
There are no proper recipe books in the empire, and the idea of hiring a chef on a day-to-day basis doesn’t exist, so they must be hired on an annual contract. Only those with considerable wealth can afford the labor costs of “high-end” cuisine that requires intensive effort. Spending a fortune yearly to enjoy fancy food is beyond even the wealthiest.
But a single meal at 100,000 won per person (a considerable price) would make anyone earning decently enough want to try “noble food” at least once.
“We could serve ten types of dishes, including spice-loaded roast pork, colorful ornamental food, and cakes from Café Medici, for about one silver coin per person.”
“Is there any profit left at that price? I think we’d need to charge at least four silver coins each.”
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“With a standardized menu and high foot traffic, we should be able to profit.”
After pondering for a moment, Kris sighed.
“If we could attract that many people, we’d make some profit... but do you think there will really be that much interest?”
I had lived in a world where people would line up for high-end hotel buffets, Michelin-star restaurants, and omakase meals costing hundreds of dollars, so I was confident. If we open a sophisticated restaurant in Florence, selling noble delicacies to commoners, people will line up.
‘People don’t go to five-star buffets just for the food.’
“From a purely logical perspective, only the truly wealthy would be able to afford our restaurant. But humans are driven by sentiment and emotion.”
Logically, nobles wouldn’t obsess over concubines chosen for beauty alone; it would be more efficient to select multiple women capable of producing heirs. People would eat cheap foods like rat meat, and vanity or extravagance wouldn’t even come into play.
But humans, in addition to reason, have emotions and sentimental desires. They long for beautiful partners, crave delicious food, and wage wars for a chance at luxury and fame. Rationality is simply a tool to make those desires more efficient.
“Think about it this way: for just one silver coin, anyone can experience being the star of a noble banquet.”
At this, both Kris and Chloe’s eyes gleamed.
“Spectacular food, beautiful music, and tasteful furniture—a night in the heart of the noble life they’ve only dreamed of.”
It’s the same in any era or place. Once people have their basic needs met, they start seeking luxury. Fine dining, once the craze in omakase and hotel buffet trends, fulfilled a desire for luxury for the wealthy.
‘Luxury gives people a sense of elegance, even if only temporarily.’
In a world with a strict social hierarchy and blatant discrimination, the desire to experience what nobles do—the curiosity to see what it’s like to live their life—is all the stronger. To satisfy this desire by eating the same food would be the pinnacle of luxury for them, something they would easily get addicted to.
Just like those who go to five-star hotel buffets once will inevitably return if there’s no major impediment.
As Kris mulled this over, he nodded in agreement.
“It seems the Baron’s proposal has merit. If people could experience the luxury of noble life once a year, I’m sure many would flock to try it. But we’d need someone to design the table manners, the furnishings, and the menu to replicate that noble feel, as well as a skilled chef...”
“High-level professionals aren’t easy to find.”
I could probably arrange a talented chef through the chef’s guild with some persuasion (not with threats). But finding someone who could simplify etiquette while retaining a sense of dignity...
‘Only a longtime servant who has worked for the nobility could manage that.’
And most of them wouldn’t want to take on this kind of job.
But I had my own methods.
“Use our agents to find a chef and someone to design the course. I’ll handle the rest.”
A few days later, I was ready to meet with the person waiting in my drawing room, equipped with the tools necessary for persuasion (no torture devices involved).
“It’s an honor to have you visit my humble estate.”