It was alright.
That was Li Wei’s verdict on the winter nu at Nobu, a high-end Japanese restaurant where the bill easily topped 500 USD per person.
It wasn’t that the food was bad. In fact, it was quite decent. The fish tasted like fish, and the shrimp tasted like shrimp.
But the portions were ridiculously small. When Li Wei picked up a piece of sashimi with his chopsticks, it was so thin you could see light through it. Instead of satisfying his hunger, it only made him feel even hungrier.
Seeing this, Elizabeth, who was sitting next to him, smiled and pushed her plate of black cod over to him.
"It’s my fault, really," she said with a smile. "I forgot about a football player’s appetite. We should have gone for steak."
"Thanks," Li Wei said, taking the plate from Elizabeth without hesitation. "By the way, is this al going to put a dent in your trust fund?"
"This counts as a social expense, so I don’t have to worry about it," Elizabeth explained. "The family office won’t approve personal expenses like buying handbags or renting high-end jewelry."
"Sounds like a company," Li Wei remarked.
"Exactly. For a family this large," Elizabeth agreed, "every mber is like an employee. If you want to spend a little extra, you have to file expense reports and justify it..."
A few monts later, a man in a pristine white chef’s uniform and a tall toque erged from the open kitchen, his brisk pace drawing the eyes of everyone in the restaurant.
A high-end Japanese restaurant like Nobu, given its price point and target clientele, was a world away from ordinary people. Its patrons were, at the very least, elites and the wealthy.
For the head chef to personally co out of the kitchen was a privilege typically reserved for major celebrities or influential figures. The mont he appeared, the surrounding diners fell silent, craning their necks like a herd of giraffes to see which movie star or high-ranking official had graced the establishnt.
The chef strode up to Elizabeth’s table, and the surrounding waitstaff imdiately took a respectful step back.
"Miss llon, what an honor," the chef said, giving her a standard Japanese bow. "I heard you were here and had to co see you. I didn’t prepare the black cod myself today, but I was watching the heat closely. I do hope it is to your liking? Or perhaps you have so suggestions for improvent?"
Elizabeth set down her silver chopsticks and gently dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin.
"Mr. Matsushige," Elizabeth said with a polite smile, "I have every confidence in Nobu’s consistent quality. However, I’m afraid I can’t offer much of an evaluation today. I don’t have much of an appetite, so I’ve given the dish to my companion."
Chef Matsuhisa froze for a second. After a glance at Li Wei and his physique, he imdiately understood.
"My apologies," he said, bowing again. "Our restaurant just received a five-star-grade Matsutake Crab today. We were planning to develop a new dish—A5 Wagyu Crab Fried Rice. I was wondering if this gentleman and Miss llon would do us the honor of trying it and offering your critique?"
"Don’t look at ," Elizabeth said. "Ask my friend."
"I’ll have one," Li Wei said, still not quite satisfied. "The food is great, but the portions are a little small."
"I’ll have it prepared for you right away," Matsuhisa said with a smile as he jotted down the order. "A guest’s satisfaction is the highest praise for a chef."
After taking the order, he didn’t leave right away. Instead, he lingered, wringing his hands, a look of cautious inquiry on his face.
"Also... Miss llon," the chef said, looking at Elizabeth, his tone growing even more deferential. "Since I’ve had the good fortune of eting you today, and with the tasting of a new dish, I was wondering if... that is, if it’s convenient, would it be possible for you to take a photo with our restaurant’s team? Even just a picture of your side profile would be enough. I’d like to hang it on the wall of honor at our New York headquarters."
The mood in the air shifted subtly.
Elizabeth maintained her gentle smile, but the warmth in her eyes vanished.
"I’m sorry, Mr. Matsushige," she said. "This is a private dinner. I don’t like to be disturbed. I trust you understand."
Though her words were polite, her tone was anything but.
The smile on the chef’s face instantly stiffened, and fine beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.
"Ah... yes, yes. My deepest apologies. I was out of line," the chef said, bowing again in a fluster. He bent even lower this ti, nearly to a ninety-degree angle. "Please wait just a mont, the fried rice will be out shortly. I’ll have this al comped for you, as an apology for the disturbance."
"That won’t be necessary," Elizabeth said, picking up her teacup and taking a delicate sip. "Just put it on the account."
"Yes, of course." Looking as if he’d been granted a pardon, the chef backed away from the table before daring to turn around and leave.
"He sure changed his tune fast," Li Wei said. "F
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