The best of the chefs sometimes manage to rise to the rank of Master Chef. This takes more than merely honing one's cooking skills; the Master Chef must be ready to quest for the rarest ingredients, study the arts of alchemy and herbalism, and even master a little magic. A druid will willingly tell (or, more likely, lecture you at length) that every living thing contains within it a spark of divine life energy, and that consuming this spark in the feral rush of the hunt is a sacrament of life and an affirmation of the great cycle of nature; furthermore (quoth the druid) most civilised meals take too long and by the time the food is prepared, the divine spark of life it once contained has decayed and vanished, devoured by entropy and lost of the cycle forever. The Master Chef, then, must learn to nurture and preserve the little spark of life in his ingredients as he prepares the meal, coaxing it back into full bloom until a meal of venison and vegetables gives the diners a sense of crashing through the greenwood, heavy antlers weighing down their heads and hot blood rushing through their veins while simultaneously hurling their souls into the dark loam of the earth, there to slowly take root and grow and sprout, a long slow black green moment of constant life. The Master Chef stands between life and death, between hunter and hunted, and draws all the world in until the experiences of a hundred lifetimes explode out with every transcendent mouthful!
They also cook.