Chapter 96
Chapter 96
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 96
Chapter Title: Taking Charge in the Kitchen
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Im Do-hoon looked like he couldn't believe what he'd just seen with his own eyes. And why not? His mouth was hanging wide open as he stared blankly at me.
Drool was about to drip.
Can't have that happen to such a fine chicken. I deliberately clapped my hands with a sharp snap! to snap him out of it.
"This should fit the 'mentor' role nicely, don't you think? Alright, now you give it a try."
When I handed him the knife, Im Do-hoon suddenly came to his senses.
"Yes, sir!"
Unlike before, his voice was sharp and disciplined. Good. The strange dissatisfaction and defiance in his eyes had vanished.
"Go ahead. Just like you saw me do."
"Right. So, like this... grab it here..."
"No. You need to pull right through here steadily so the bone and meat separate properly."
"Ah~. Got it!"
I naturally corrected his poor form while solidifying my position.
I could feel the others watching in surprise as I instructed Im Do-hoon. He had plenty of kitchen experience himself, so they probably never imagined he'd be learning chicken prep from me.
I swallowed a chuckle that threatened to burst out.
'Now the vibe's settling in.' Hierarchy is crucial in a kitchen. If the order breaks down, the whole balance collapses. In this massive collaboration where everyone might as well be one team, getting everyone to move like a single body without missing a beat requires strong charisma. 'Not that I particularly like that culture.' But that didn't mean I couldn't mimic it. And for the veterans with long kitchen careers, this was the more familiar approach anyway. In an instant, the atmosphere shifted to treat me like a "director."
Confirming that, I patted Im Do-hoon's shoulder.
"You're doing great. Just like that."
"Yes, sir!" "I'll go check on the others."
Then I smoothly moved on. The air that had treated me like an outsider was gone, replaced by an atmosphere where it felt natural to seek my approval. Right next to us was the station prepping the dressed chicken legs for frying. An unfamiliar contestant was struggling with gloved hands. Her name tag read 'O Ga-eul.' Huh? I'd heard that name somewhere before. One of the broadcast contestants, maybe? Anyway, her hands moved fast—I liked her pace. 'Oil's clean, and the marinade looks good.' As I passed by, I tossed out some advice.
"The chicken looks bigger than size 7, so go heavy on the marinade. Make sure it soaks all the way through."
"Yes, sir!"
"Thick parts like drumsticks might not cook through. Score them ahead of time if you want to finish within the limit."
"Yes~!"
The contestant nodded vigorously while kneading the marinade into the chicken, too busy to really hear me, maybe. But she responded well enough, so it was fine. Nothing needed fixing there, so I breezed past. Next up was Choi Yak-rok making the sauce for the drumsticks. He was boiling various ingredients together in a pot.
"How's the sauce coming?"
"Oh, right. I was aiming for something crowd-pleasing, no strong likes or dislikes, so I thought seasoned chicken might work. Since we'll be slathering and grilling it, I figured stronger seasoning would be better, so that's what I'm doing."
A bit rambling, but seasoned chicken sauce, got it. I scooped a bit onto the back of my hand with a clean spoon and tasted it. Mmm, tasty. "What do you think?"
I answered Choi Yak-rok's question honestly.
"It's good. Garlic's perfectly balanced. This'll be amazing drizzled over fried chicken."
His face lit up instantly.
"Phew, what a relief. It's my first time making seasoned chicken sauce..."
"Not bad for a first try."
It was so well-executed, I wondered if he was lying about it being his first time. A top contender for sure. Just then, I noticed the sauce bowl bubbling vigorously.
"Whoa."
But Choi Yak-rok was just stirring it around wildly.
"What are you doing?"
"Huh?"
"Turn off the heat."
"But? It's just starting to boil."
Scratch that. Guess it really was his first time.
"Boil it too long and the sauce thickens up. Kill the heat now!"
"Eep!"
I watched him hurriedly turn off the burner.
"Some sauces get deeper flavor the longer they boil. But not this one. As soon as the bubbles rise like that, cut the heat."
He nodded eagerly as I stressed the point. Whew. Lucky I was there. He almost had to start over from scratch. He stared at me blankly, so I grinned.
"Wondering how I even know this stuff? Especially since my franchise isn't even chicken."
"!"
"It's all over your face."
He touched his face at my words. His thoughts—Does it really show that much?—were plain as day. I burst out laughing, then continued.
"You heard my intro. 'Culinary researcher.'" Looks can be deceiving, but I'd traveled the world studying all sorts of cuisines. Sure, that was before my regression. That knowledge was still fully intact in my head.
"What, you thought I was just saying stuff?"
"N-no, it's not that, more like..."
He trailed off. Well, my resume was a bit thin for that claim. Perfect for a businessman, no question. But for a chef? Yeah, it'd raise eyebrows.
"I heard the gist. Top contender, real skill, right?"
"Haha. Top contender? No way."
"No need to be modest. I heard it straight from the judges."
I'd chatted with them during the break, and they all pegged Choi Yak-rok as a winner.
"Said you were amazing at braised dishes."
"Haha..."
"With skills like that, it's still tough to survive in the food industry, huh?"
I smiled, and he froze. I'd pointed out his failed restaurant venture. His face stiffened a bit. No point antagonizing a Master Chef showdown winner, so I wasn't picking a fight. I had other business.
"If you need it, give me a call. I can at least do some management consulting."
Bonus if I could snag a stake in his place.
"...Sales pitch even in this situation. True entrepreneur mindset."
That how it came across?
"Sales? You must have the wrong idea... [The Song] doesn't need a Choi Yak-rok. Our target markets are totally different."
"Then why say it?"
"Hmm."
I tilted my head.
"Wouldn't it be a shame for a talented chef to fade away over business troubles?"
That was the pure reason.
"People who make delicious food are rare."
And I was one who loved that food dearly. Call it endangered species protection.
"...You're a weird one."
Choi Yak-rok muttered in disbelief. Fair enough.
"Anyway, not important right now. Let's finish up the rest?"
Chicken was the main dish, but we had sides too: hearty fried rice to fill you up, french fries that pair great with chicken, even salad for nutritional balance.
"We'd better hurry."
"Yes, sir!"
Realizing he couldn't afford chit-chat with me, Choi Yak-rok sprang into action. Time left: two hours and thirty minutes. A long road ahead.
The longest part by far was butchering the chickens.
It was the most labor-intensive grunt work, and even with my guidance, Im Do-hoon couldn't instantly master my technique.
Even if he dismantled one per minute, a hundred birds would take at least 100 minutes. That meant over an hour and forty minutes of the three-hour limit just on disassembly.
Plus at least twenty minutes for marinating—way too tight.
I had to jump in too, going all-out on chicken duty.
Slice, thud!
Splat! Wherever I touched, the chickens fell apart smoothly, bones and meat separated. Im Do-hoon kept glancing over, letting out awed exclamations. Must be fascinating no matter how many times he saw it. 'Chicken prep's almost done. Checked the salad and fries earlier too. At this rate, we can wrap in the last hour no problem...' That's when it happened. As I twisted my aching back side to side for a stretch, something caught my eye.
"......"
A pile of drumsticks. But something was off. 'Why no scores?' I'd clearly told them to score them. 'Am I just tired and missing it? Yeah, possible. Maybe the other side has them.' I hoped so. I pulled off my gloves and headed to the fried drumsticks. Picked one up and inspected it thoroughly. No matter the angle, no scores. 'A drumstick this thick, un-scored... how could the inside cook?' No way! I hurriedly tore into the one in my hand. The crispy batter looked appetizing. Inside, pale flesh peeked out. Good smell too. Okay, relief. Guess my worry was off-base. Even thick drumsticks can cook through if slow-fried long enough at low heat...! Splat! "......"
Sure enough. Bright red blood burst out from inside. Damn. Completely raw.