“She’s here,” the woman bawled with a silver tray in her trembling hands “she’s here and I served her the wrong order, what do I, what am I going to do?”

The man dramatically snapped his head to the waitress. He dropped the saucepan, a thick red liquid smudging the edges, and followed the girl while pulling each glove off his boney fingers. The twirled moustache hanging above his fat lips angled in a way that tickled the waitress when their heads crammed together to gaze through the door crack. She sniffed often, her teary eyes trying to follow the man’s line of view as they both stared at the woman in the middle of the restaurant.

She stirred the soup and inhaled deeply before pinching her nose and gulping down the bowl's spicy content. Clicking her tongue, the woman nodded and aimed for a second spoonful of soup, turning the waitress and the man in a shivering mess. With the moustache still tickling the girl, her body finally crumpled and released a loud sneeze petrifying the entire building. The woman too turned to the sound of the noise, the two people tumbling out the door. Hurrying back to their feet, the man was the first to stop at the lady’s table, fixing his clothes and taking his hat off as a sign of respect. He grinned, the tousled hair making the lady grunt in disgust.

“Hello there, I am---”

He shut up when the woman exposed her palm. With the other hand, she continued to sip from the soup, making vague sounds. The chef was unsure whether she enjoyed their soup or joked around with the man. When she finally lowered her palm, it was only to rip a piece of bread and dip it inside the soup, eating the piece whole with crescent eyes and mouth of delight.

“Right…,” she uttered, calling the chef closer with her finger. He had done so, tiptoeing near the woman. When the distance was right, she brushed her hands over his clothes, wiping away the bread crumbles and staining his impeccably white uniform with the greasy soup leftovers stuck on the tip of her fingers. The chef continued grinning, sweating from anger, but he did not dare show it.

“Was it satisfactory?” the chef mumbled, clearing his voice and repeating the question louder, enough for the entire restaurant to stop again and eye the two characters playing a comedy.

“Well…,” she picked the spoon again, filling it with soup and then observed the way it dripped with large drops. “No.”

“N-nn-no?” the man stuttered, sweating more and more until patches of soaked material built under his armpits. “What is missing?”

“First,” the sharp beginning startled the man, even more the waitress who had just arrived near them, still clutching the silver tray and with weak knees knocking from the strong tremble in her body “you switched the orders. I had this soup and the other a medium cooked steak with sour cherry sauce, how could you be so incompetent?”

The waitress became smaller behind the chef and then scurried from his side when he glanced angrily at her petite figure.

“I’M SORRY!” she bowed to an almost impossible angle before collapsing to the floor, the tray still at her chest while her forehead hit the floor.

“Ew, get up girl,” the lady shuddered, shaking her head in disapproval “you’re going to get us all sick if you do that and then serve the people here.”

Said people were abandoning their food one by one, all gradually getting more fascinated with why a simple woman could knock out what looked like the chef of the restaurant. He was also the manager but it wouldn't be wise to boast at that moment. The waitress crawled back on her feet, leaving the tray on the floor while she ran back to the kitchen, tears flying with each hastened step further away from the witch. The woman shrugged and redirected her attention to the chef, smiling sweetly to the still wide-mouthed fellow whose pants tightened around his sweaty torso.

“We are truly sorry for that, it will never happen again, promise.”

“Second!” every muscle in his body stiffened. “This soup has an irregular density. Bread absorbs it well but this is not meant to be eaten with bread, am I right?”

“Well, you have bread ready, so that means---”

“THIRD!” he swallowed hard, tucking at his collar. Was it too hot in the restaurant or had he really gone overboard with worry? “I ordered the bread to the side to confirm my suspicion. Next time, make it as part of the menu.”

“Ah, is that so, well---”

“FINALLY!” she lifted her finger, the man’s moustache losing its vigor. “This soup anyway, give it to the pigs. The broth is tasteless, the vegetables are too hard and what have you used in here? Cinnamon? There is too much, you could have very well served me a bag of powdered cinnamon in a glass of water and call it a day.”

“What? Impossible, that is not---”

He gulped when the woman got up from her chair and slapped the table with a napkin that rested before on her lap.

“You sure have a miserable place!”

The clash of metal spoons, forks, knives and chopsticks filled the restaurant as more people followed her example and freed their tables. The man dashed from one corner to another, trying to reason with the easily influenced customers. He failed to see the one who had provoked the chaos put on a pair of sunglasses and confidently strut out of the restaurant.

Her name is Choi Sooyoung and for the past 3 years, her words became law.

Every restaurant, especially those that received numerous praises in various magazines or famous websites dealing with reviews, had their reputation crushed by the 24 year old. All it took was some ill-service or a wrongly placed plate to become the laughing stock of netizens every time the fierce woman uploaded another of her perfectly written experiences.

It wasn’t that they were horrible and should disappear in the flames of Hell, just that the lack of authority food critics like Sooyoung had, suddenly gave all restaurant owners and chefs a second (or developed one if they were women) they could flaunt around and call it a masterpiece. For them, the way they managed their place and overpriced their rather common dishes, was perfect.

Sooyoung declared war to all those empty-headed bastards that believed it was alright to on her precious food. Every client should have the same level of respect and as she sighed loudly back in the busy streets and flipped her hair over her shoulders, she realized they were just as sneaky as ever.

Also, she did not have faith in perfection. Anything declared ‘perfect’, thus without flaws, was not something she’d want to eat.

Perfect food didn’t exist, just right amounts of imperfections creating a delicious and emotional explosion for the mouth, ultimately numbing the body with its amazing flavor and love.

Yes, Sooyoung did not think the restaurant she left knew the meaning of love.

She stopped abruptly when her stomach growled. Cutting and slashing one place after another increased appetite. She glanced around, not seeing anything new. Every restaurant on that street greeted with the presence of Sooyoung weren’t that eager on embracing her back.

Maybe it was better to try a bit further down the road, right?

Turning the corner, she bumped into a chalkboard sign with smiley faces and flowery drawings scattered around words, which created an amalgam inviting everybody to slow down and enjoy a peaceful meal at their humble restaurant. Sunglasses on top of her head, she squinted at the list and murmured the day’s specialty, unsure if she should sneak in and do her job or give up and eat her heart out.

Since old habits die hard and it had been three years since she started her holy mission of baptizing the demons out of the restaurant industry, she sighed for the second time that day and slipped her glasses in her purse before entering the restaurant. It looked rather warm from the outside, a wooden façade with an identical wooden door framing a large window that had three rows of flowers secluding all of their clients from the passersby.

The plant motif continued inside, seeing various type of herbs and other pretty flowers that one could use in their food spread around the restaurant.

It had a single room, much smaller than the previous restaurant, that exuded intimacy. Tables were relatively close, allowing enough space for anyone to go between safely. She wondered why the owner cluttered the place with pots and other flowery assortments if she knew she did not have enough freedom of expansion. Maybe it was another of those ‘look at me, I’m so original in decorating this place, you’ll piss yourself once you see it’ Sooyoung didn’t enjoy. Sure, it was nice, but a restaurant shouldn’t focus on their image more than on their food. Any location without pretense won more.

She took a seat and looked around, expecting someone to greet her. Well, the place was kind of deserted with only a couple secluded by the plants present. After twenty seconds, Sooyoung grew impatient. It must have been the awful service from the last restaurant. She could still see that waitress shake the bones out of her skin when she nicely pointed out she got the wrong order.

A girl with blonde locks tied together by a green ribbon scampered to her table.

“Welcome!” she cheered, placing the menu in front of her while rambling about their restaurant. Sooyoung got so used to introductions, she didn’t even bother listening to the girl. Instead, she appreciated the plant motif appearing again over the menu’s cover, outlines of various flowers elegantly surrounding the title.

Opening the menu, the girl’s words were background music as Sooyoung scanned the pages, closed the menu and placed her hands over it.

“I’ll have the chef’s specialty,” she cooed and shut the annoying girl who fumbled with her notepad to write everything down.

“Alright, anything to drink?”

“Water will do~,” Sooyoung waved her hand for the girl to hurry back and give her order, which she did, not before scrutinizing the woman a second too long and rolling her eyes.

Strike one.

Sooyoung leaned against the chair, humming to the soulful music peacefully cascading from hidden speakers. She admitted the atmosphere was top class despite her first statements. Making a mental note on that, she proceeded to the painfully task of waiting.

So, she waited. And she waited.

Minutes flew. Every time the song changed, Sooyoung wanted to leave the place and grab a hamburger from the nearby McDonald’s. She blamed her hunger but she could swear it was taking too long.

Strike two.

Finally, after agonizing over her decision to stay or leave, the same girl from before came with a tray filled with goods. She wanted to dig in faster than a guy coming from military but she resisted the urge to act savage and thanked her instead. The girl merely tilted her head before leaving her alone. Sooyoung could swear she huffed.

Strike three.

The food had better be good, else, she planned on pouring it down the girl and an attempt to fix her nasty attitude. Picking the chopsticks, she swiftly prayed before taking the first bite.

Suddenly, all the plants morphed in colorful butterflies creating a parade of color around Sooyoung. They flapped their wings and swayed her locks from one side to the other, rushing in every direction and eventually breaking down the walls. Sooyoung was still at her table, still on her chair with the chopsticks in her agape mouth while her orbs enlarged and puffy clouds became the floor holding her up in the bluest skies. The butterflies dispersed with the bright sun, creating a rainbow arching over Sooyoung.

Blinking and closing , she chewed slowly, letting the aroma invade her nostrils and burn down . Her lungs expanded until she inhaled everything with difficulty.

The rainbow shattered in tiny pieces, pouring over her like a fresh summer rain. The building materialized back to its numerous plants and the song that until then was nothing but a way to keep her mind occupied replayed with the intensity of a thousand singing angels.

Sooyoung slammed the chopsticks on the table and dashed from her chair with enough force to send it crashing to the ground, the couple unaware of the crazy woman bursting through the kitchen door and hyperventilating at the confused staff.

Her eyes shifted from the girl to the only two other women inside the cramped kitchen.

“WHO’S THE COOK???” The girl and one of the women pointed to the remaining one. She stepped forward with hands on her hips, a harsh glare cresting her features. She probably did not want any stranger in her kitchen, surely not the seemingly nuts Sooyoung heavily stepping towards her like someone who had crossed a frozen land.

“I am,” she spoke with her chin up, ready to take anything, no matter how harsh it might be.

Sooyoung stopped momentarily, controlling her reactions as much as possible.

“May I know your name?”

“Jessica,” the same stable tone came out of the woman who puffed her chest forward “how may I help you? The kitchen is off-limits though, please return to your table.”

“You…,” Sooyoung came closer and closer until she grabbed the woman’s shirt “…youuu!” her head hung low, hair shadowing her features. “I… I…,” she finally locked eyes with Jessica and it must have been the strong lights because she could swear Sooyoung’s pupils turn into stars “I LOVE YOU! WHAT IN THE WORLD WAS THAT, IT WAS EXTAORDINARY, THE BEST THNG I HAD EVER HAD!”

“Nothing much, I mean… thanks?”

Sooyoung let go and hopped on spot like a kid ready for Christmas, seeing the best gift in the entire universe ready to be unpacked and used for the rest of her life. On the other hand, Jessica wasn’t sure how to deal with the woman, so she ended up telling her the ingredients (except for the secret passed on for generations) and was stunned when Sooyoung handed her business card and begged her to check the website in the morning for she wouldn’t be disappointed.

After that, she followed Sooyoung back in the restaurant, giggling from the way she ate. Her heart filled with the same love Sooyoung had been searching in her food. It surely lit her mood when someone enjoyed her recipes, even if the place wasn’t that popular.

Without any other word, the food critic paid and left in a hurry, upsetting a curious Jessica.

---

“WAKE UP WOMAN!!!” Jessica tiredly removed her ear from the phone. “YOU GOTTA SEE THIS!”

“I just…,” she yawned, stretching her back the moment she left the comfort of her bed “…ah forget it. You need me at the restaurant? Sure, wait for me Krystal.”

Taking a shower, she tied her hair up and drove to the restaurant. Her sister wouldn’t enthusiastically ruin her sleep without a solid reason, so she knew something big happened, just wasn’t sure yet if it was good or bad. Either way, after pulling in her usual parking spot and heading to the building around the corner with hands stuck in her pockets, Jessica froze the moment she saw the huge queue leading straight to her place.

Brushing by it, she took the opposite direction and went inside from the back entry, her sister yelling the moment she saw Jessica.

“DUDE, DUDE, SEEN THAT, SEEN IT?”

“Yeah, is that an angry mob or something? Why are they all piled up at the door?!”

Krystal disappeared back in the restaurant while Jessica put on her chef uniform. She came back with a tablet flashing the website that woman from yesterday had written on her business card. Swiping through the article, Jessica’s laughter filled the kitchen.

“What, what?” Krystal peeked from her shoulder, re-reading the review and finding nothing amusing.

“Seen that?” after Jessica pointed to the last sentence, she too burst in chuckles “…even though there was no pepper near the salt on the table, believe me when I say you would be too busy eating to notice their absence… this is hilarious, I swear. Why would she even mention that?”

“Beats me,” Krystal patted her sister’s back “Should we open earlier?”

“Yes!” Jessica gave Krystal her device back, folding her sleeves so she could scrub her hands with soap. “And if you see that woman, tell her I said thanks.”

“Oh, but she’s first in line.”

Jessica stopped, the only noise coming from the water splashing over her wrists.

“Well then…,” her smiles reached her ears after she turned off the water with her elbows. “Let her in, I’ll make her something special. She does love me after all, doesn’t she?”