As they exited the car, Jessica began to tell Ethan about the restaurant’s history, her voice urgent.
“Ocean’s Bounty used to be one of the top seafood restaurants in the city,” she explained. “But after the founder, Arthur Neal, passed away a few years ago, his son, Mason Neal, took over. Unfortunately, things haven’t been the same since.”
Ethan listened attentively as they walked to the entrance, taking in the details.
“Mason inherited the restaurant and its recipes but never matched his father’s skill,” Jessica continued. “Arthur had a way of preparing unique dishes—his flavors were distinctive, and people came from all over to try his creations. After Arthur’s death, Mason’s cooking just didn’t have the same magic. It was like something was missing.”
Ethan nodded, understanding how a restaurant’s reputation could hinge on the talent of one individual. A single change in the kitchen could make or break everything, especially when the previous chef had built such a loyal following.
“As a result,” Jessica said, “the regular customers started drifting away. Slowly, the staff had to be cut down to save on costs, and the quality of the dishes suffered even more. They had to downsize to this current location to keep the business running, but they’re barely staying afloat. It’s a shadow of what it once was.”
Ethan could see what she meant. While the restaurant retained a cozy and inviting feel, there was a sense of struggle beneath the surface—a weight of expectations that Mason Neal seemed unable to meet.
Jessica handed Ethan a small dossier on Ocean’s Bounty, listing some of the restaurant’s most popular dishes in its heyday.
Ethan skimmed through the list, noting the descriptions of five standout items that had once put Ocean’s Bounty on the map:
Seafarer’s Delight: A medley of fresh clams, mussels, and prawns cooked in a rich tomato and herb broth, served with homemade garlic bread. Arthur had been known for balancing delicate seafood flavors with just the right acidity and spice. Still, recent reviews mentioned the dish lacked the depth it once had.
Neptune’s Crown: A signature dish with grilled lobster topped with a citrus and herb-infused butter sauce and a side of lemon-garlic rice. This was a favorite among regulars, who often spoke about how Arthur brought out the lobster’s natural sweetness—something Mason hadn’t quite replicated.
Ocean’s Harvest Chowder: A thick, creamy chowder brimming with chunks of cod, potatoes, and a variety of shellfish seasoned with a blend of herbs unique to Arthur’s recipe. It was said to be a hearty and comforting dish, perfect for colder days, but recent versions have been criticized for being too bland.
Golden Tempest Calamari: Lightly battered and fried squid rings seasoned with a secret mix of spices that give them a signature crunch and kick. The dip, a tangy lemon aioli, was a recipe that Arthur guarded closely. However, complaints about inconsistency in the batter had become common since Mason took over.
Captain’s Feast Platter:—A grand assortment of grilled and fried seafood, from scallops to king prawns, all served with a selection of house-made sauces. This platter was once the pride of Ocean’s Bounty—a celebration of the freshest catches. Lately, however, reviews have pointed out that the presentation lacks, and the flavors aren’t as bold.
Ethan closed the dossier, feeling a sense of determination inside him. He knew this restaurant had potential—it had the history, the recipes, and the nostalgia. What it needed was a guiding hand to bring it back to life.
They stepped inside, and Ethan immediately sensed the gap between the restaurant’s current state and what it had once been. The décor was tired, the atmosphere a little stale, and only a handful of customers occupied the tables.
“Mason’s in the kitchen,” Jessica said quietly. “He’s doing his best, but I think he’s overwhelmed. He’s a decent cook, but he’s always compared to his father, and he just can’t seem to handle the pressure.”
Ethan nodded. “Let’s see if we can turn this around. I have a few ideas, but first, I must taste the food myself.”
Jessica’s face brightened slightly. “I’ll let Mason know we’re here.”
As Jessica moved towards the kitchen, Ethan’s thoughts returned to the skill he had unlocked earlier—Culinary Divinity. If there was ever a place to put his new skills to the test, it was here at Ocean’s Bounty.
He had the Tongue of the Divine now. He would use it to identify the missing elements in Mason’s cooking and guide him back to the restaurant’s roots.
Ethan felt a surge of confidence. Ocean’s Bounty would not just survive—it would thrive once more.
Mason emerged from the kitchen, his expression tired and worn. Walking beside him was his wife, a petite woman with dark circles under her eyes, yet her face held a determined warmth.
Despite the visible exhaustion, there was a quiet strength in her carry-on. She was the only other staff member here who took orders, served tables, handled complaints, and even did the dishes. Clearly, she was the backbone holding the restaurant together, refusing to let it collapse under the weight of its struggles.
Ethan observed them closely, noticing the contrast between the two. While Mason’s shoulders sagged under an invisible weight—clearly feeling the strain of living up to his father’s reputation—his wife’s eyes showed hope. She believed in him, even if the rest of the city no longer did.
Mason hesitated, wiping his hands nervously on his stained apron before speaking. “You’re the representative from BiteWave, right?” he asked, his voice uncertain. “Are you here to feature Ocean’s Bounty and our menu on your platform?”
Ethan nodded, meeting Mason’s gaze with calm determination. “That’s right. But before I commit, I need to taste your dishes at their best.”
Mason’s expression soured slightly, and he looked down at the floor. “My best…” he muttered. “Everyone expects me to be my father, to cook like him, but no matter what I do, it’s never good enough.”
His voice had a hint of bitterness, a frustration born of years of comparison. Ethan could see it—this man had once been passionate about his craft. Still, he had lost his confidence under the weight of expectations he couldn’t escape.
It wasn’t just about cooking anymore; it was about living up to the legacy of a father who had become a legend.
Ethan took a step forward, his voice firm yet understanding. “Forget about what others expect, Mason. I don’t want you to cook like your father—I want you to cook like you. Show me what you can do when you stop thinking about comparisons and focus on your skills.”
Mason’s eyes flickered with doubt. “You don’t understand… I’m drowning in debt. If I could just cook the way my father did, maybe things would be different, but—”
Ethan cut him off with a gentle but determined tone. “Don’t worry about the debt. If you give me your absolute best today, I’ll do that for you. We’ll work out a plan to pay off your financial burdens, step by step.”
Mason’s eyes widened, disbelief clear on his face. Standing beside him, his wife looked equally stunned, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. It was too good to be true, and Mason’s brow furrowed as if waiting for the catch.
Ethan sensed the doubt and pressed on, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep. This is my project, and I need it to be a success. If you put everything you have into your cooking today, I’ll ensure the financial part of your life gets easier.”
There was a moment of silence as Mason stared at Ethan, searching his face for any sign of insincerity. When he found none, he swallowed hard, his expression softening.
Mason nodded, a mixture of determination and vulnerability in his eyes. “Alright,” he said quietly. “I’ll do it. I’ll cook my best.”
Ethan smiled, then turned to Jessica, who had been watching the exchange with a look of quiet admiration. “Jessica, tell the chauffeur to be on standby. If Mason or his wife needs to go to the best markets for fresh ingredients, I want them to have everything they need. Freshness is non-negotiable.”
Mason shook his head, suddenly regaining a bit of his confidence. “No, we’ll get the ingredients ourselves. We know where to find the best ones. This is something we have to do.”
His wife nodded in agreement. Despite her exhaustion, there was a spark of determination in her eyes. She had been holding the restaurant together all this time. Ethan’s offer had clearly rekindled a fire that had been fading for years.
Ethan respected their choice but added, “Alright, but I want you to know I’m covering the cost and paying for the menu. Just tell me how much. I don’t want you to worry about anything other than making your best food.”
Mason’s wife gave a small, grateful smile, her eyes bright with hope. “Thank you,” she said softly. “This means more to us than you can imagine.”
Ethan simply nodded, understanding the weight of what was at stake. He watched as Mason and his wife left to gather the ingredients, their steps a little lighter than before.
As they walked away, Ethan could feel the anticipation building within him. This was the first test, and he knew that if Mason could rise to the challenge today, Ocean’s Bounty had a real chance of returning to its former glory.
He had put his faith in Mason and his wife, and now it was up to them to take the first step toward reclaiming what had been lost. Ethan’s role was just beginning, and he intended to see this through.
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