In the bustling city of Greenshire, where farm-to-table dining was a way of life, the Green Leaf Vegan Bistro was the most popular restaurant in town. Its owner, Chef Marigold, prided herself on her innovative plant-based dishes. But one morning, she received an application that made her spill her almond milk latte.
Name: Ignatius the Ironbelly
Species: Dragon (Fire-breathing, but strictly for cooking purposes)
Experience:
300 years of flame-grilling (mostly livestock, but willing to adapt)
Expert in charring vegetables to perfection
Can smoke tofu with a single exhale
Chef Marigold blinked. "A dragon? Applying to work in a vegan restaurant?"
Ignatius arrived for his trial shift, his massive frame barely fitting through the door. His scales gleamed like polished copper, and he wore a tiny chef’s hat perched between his horns. The other cooks stared.
"Don’t worry," Ignatius rumbled. "I signed a no-meat contract. Also, I won’t eat any customers. Probably."
Marigold handed him a basket of portobello mushrooms. "Let’s see what you can do."
Ignatius grinned, took a deep breath, and—FWOOOSH!—a controlled jet of blue flame seared the mushrooms into smoky, caramelized perfection. The kitchen filled with an irresistible aroma.
The staff gasped.
"That’s… actually amazing," Marigold admitted.
By the end of the night, Ignatius had revolutionized the menu:
Dragon-Blazed Eggplant (so tender it melted like butter)
Charred Chili Peppers (with just the right kick)
Smoked Coconut Bacon (a vegan miracle)
Customers raved. The restaurant’s popularity soared. And Ignatius? He found his true calling—no longer a fearsome beast of legend, but a culinary artist with a heart (and stomach) of green.
Moral of the story: Never judge a dragon by its scales—sometimes, all they want is to grill a good zucchini.
THE END. 🐉🔥🥗
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