The chef finished preparing the last of his ingredients for the day before rolling up the siding on his hi-tech food truck. With the flick of a switch, bright letters flared to life, the neon spelling out the title of his humble establishment: Guts-Not-To-Like?
Noah Guttman was always destined to be a purveyor of food. Nicknamed "Guts" at a young age for both his belly and his bravery, he'd lost the former but none of the latter as he grew up. Noah came from a long line of chefs and chef related ancestors. His ancestors back in England had been famous bakers before they braved the trip across the Atlantic, their improved 'hard-tack' keeping the sailors from dying of starvation when a storm blew them off course. His great-grandfather had founded the finest eating establishment in the port city of Harbordown, and his parents used their talents catering to the rich and famous.
Noah on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to please and feed the common man. After graduating from the finest culinary school money could buy, his family and peers had expected him to use his gastronomic genius to open the finest dining establishment ever known. Instead, he'd left all the glitz and glamour behind to brave out on his own and open up a lowly food truck on the campus streets of Belimore University.
Despite his humble restaurant's mobile nature, Noah served food using only the highest quality ingredients. Sure it ate into profits, but the point of cooking was to feed the masses! "Guts" more than made up for it with the popularity and notoriety the high quality brought the business. It never seemed like he could be open for more than a few hours before he'd run out of food.
From Gut-Buster burgers, Button-Popper jalapeno poppers, and Fat-Chance Fries to Pork-ocalpyse Ribs, Belly-Blast Beef Brisket, and Udderly-Mad Ice Cream for dessert, Noah's food all seemed to be a bit heavy. And there was a reason for that. Much like his food, Noah liked his women big and full of flavour.
Noah's mother had made an impact on him in this regard at a very young age. Coming in at a whopping 400 pounds, the culinary titan Angela Guttman still scampered around the kitchen at a speed of someone a quarter of her weight. "A fat woman is a happy woman," she always said. "A healthy waistline is a keen mark of quality. Never trust a skinny twig without an appetite."
Noah had taken that advice to heart. It had become his mission to grow joy and happiness wherever he could, along with his female clientele's weights. Through either his culinary genius, dedication to his craft, or maybe some Faustian deal with the underworld, Noah's food had a habit of delighting his male customer's tastebuds while going straight to a female's waistline. Yet it was just so damn good no-one ever seemed to care. They all just wanted more of his Gut-busting goodies.
Finally, with all preparations behind him, Noah flipped his closed sign to open, started that catchy food truck music, and started to serve the already forming line in front of him.
----
Just what does fate have in store for our Wizardly Chef on this fine day?
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