Chapter 119: The Laws of Tasting (1)
Chapter 119: The Laws of Tasting (1)
At the hotel, Jo Minjoon lay sprawled across a bed so large that even if he stretched out both arms and legs, he still could not reach the edges. He held his mobile phone in one hand, a smile on his face.
[Ah, so you made dinner yourselves?]
“Yeah. Emily looked really pitiful. I negotiated with Martin so that I could buy the ingredients myself, and Emily was allowed to eat according to how much she helped.”
[How kind. Did she say it suited her taste?]
“I don’t know. At least I was satisfied with the dish. And even if it didn’t suit her taste, she wasn’t exactly in a position to complain.” Jo Minjoon smirked.
Just thinking about a woman who had lived her whole life without truly knowing hunger or poverty acting so pitifully in front of money and food amused him.
Chloe drew in a breath.
[So, what’s Brazil like? Was the churrasco good? Is it different from the kind they sell in America?]
“I’m not really sure because I haven’t eaten churrasco in America, but it definitely felt like a dish that preserved its own culture. Onions and garlic are actually really familiar ingredients. But just adding a little chilli sauce or hot sauce changes the whole impression.”
[That’s the charm of foreign countries. They use the same ingredients and still create completely different flavours. I’m jealous. I want to be on that kind of programme too.]
“Is the programme you’re doing now going well?”
[Today was only the first day, so how am I supposed to know whether it’s going well or not? Getting used to it comes first. It isn’t that difficult. The airtime is short, and the staff are nice too. Though I’m sure they’ll become quite harsh if I make a mistake while cooking and waste time.]
“Still, seeing everyone settle into their own paths makes me feel good. I just don’t know what Anderson is doing right now. I can contact everyone else, but not him.”
It would have been a lie to say he did not feel disappointed, as though the friendship they had formed had already begun to cool.
Hearing the disappointment in Jo Minjoon’s voice, Chloe replied calmly.
[Anderson probably has an Anderson-like reason. You know what kind of person he is.]
“……Yeah. I do.”
[You still keep in touch a lot, right? With…………Kaya.]
At Chloe’s words, Jo Minjoon flinched. He hid his disappointment and answered,
“No. But there’s nothing I can do about it. She must be really busy now. ……And she’ll probably get even busier as time goes on.”
[Then we need to get busier too.]
“Right. Let’s work harder.”
They talked for a while longer before finally ending the call.
After staring at the red screen indicating that the conversation had ended, Jo Minjoon moved his finger across the phone. After a few swipes, the message screen appeared.
[Me: Kaya. Call me when you have time.]
The message he had sent two days ago sat there alone. It had not even been delivered. Just how busy was she……?
“Even if she’s busy, is she really so busy that she can’t check a message?” Jo Minjoon muttered dejectedly, then turned off the screen and closed his eyes.
A moment later, he had to get up again to switch off the lights because the white glare was bothering him.
He needed to sleep, but the moment he closed his eyes, images of churrasco appeared in his mind. Huge pieces of meat threaded onto long skewers. Meat so vivid that he could almost smell the charcoal and juices simply by remembering it. The chewy texture. Then came the unfamiliar, almost primitive impression of the feijoada Emily had eaten. But he was not remembering those dishes simply because he missed their aromas, flavours, or colours.
It was because of the shock they had given him.
In fact, the feijoada had left a deeper impression on him than the churrasco. Honestly, it was not particularly difficult to make meat taste good if one used good ingredients and good charcoal. In some ways, making it taste bad was harder. Of course, slicing the meat properly to preserve the best texture required considerable skill, but that alone was not enough to leave a deep impression on him.
Feijoada was different. It required not only ingredients, but also time and dedication. And even then, that did not guarantee it would taste good. A recipe built, revised, and refined over a long period of time, along with the experience behind it, seemed to be condensed into that small plate.
Looking at it had made Jo Minjoon imagine the restaurant he might one day run.
How should he organise a kitchen capable of serving dishes that required several days of preparation? How should the staff be structured? How much should an overseas dish be localised, and when should it remain faithful to its origin?
In truth, all of this belonged to a future far too distant for him to be worrying about now. But what could he do? It was not the kind of thinking that made his head hurt the longer it continued. Rather, it was the sort of pleasant contemplation that brought a smile to his face.
And, as happened to everyone eventually, that happiness soon gifted Jo Minjoon a deep and peaceful sleep. Only the quiet rhythm of his breathing and the ticking of the clock remained in the room.
Then another sound appeared.
Click.
The lock disengaged. The door opened softly. Footsteps sank into the carpet, almost silent, followed by a sigh.
“………You really sleep like a log.”
Perhaps the voice was too quiet, because Jo Minjoon did not wake.
The person looked around the room for a moment, saw that there was only one bed, and eventually lay down beside Jo Minjoon as though there were no other choice.
Soon, the room fell quiet again. Only the ticking clock remained. And the breathing of two people.
“Ah, fuck! You scared me!” Jo Minjoon jolted awake from his dream and cursed in Korean.
He could hardly be blamed. The first thing he saw upon opening his eyes was Anderson’s drooling face.
Anderson seemed to wake because of the shout, but instead of getting up, he frowned and squeezed his eyes shut even more tightly. “Ah, shut up. What’s wrong with you?”
“Why the hell are you here? What is this?!”
“First, shut up or lower your voice. My head is ringing.”
“……Then explain this. I don’t understand this situation at all.”
“It’s too bothersome to explain. You’re intelligent, so figure it out yourself.” Anderson answered in an exhausted voice and buried his face in the pillow again.
Jo Minjoon stared at the blond hair spread across the pillow and organised his thoughts.
He was currently filming a programme.
And Anderson had appeared here.
For him to know the filming location, enter the room without being stopped by the production staff, and simply sleep there could only mean one thing.
“You’re appearing too? On this programme……?”
“If you already figured it out, why are you asking?”
“No, but you should’ve told me. Why did you keep it secret until now?”
“They told me to.”
“Who? Martin?”
Anderson nodded without lifting his face from the pillow.
Jo Minjoon frowned, still dissatisfied. “But why are you sleeping in my bed?”
“They told me this was my room. There was only one bed, but it was big enough. So obviously I took a spot on it. Ah, now I’m completely awake from talking. This is your fault.”
“I nearly died because of you before I was even properly awake.”
“Ugh, you’re so noisy. Let me sleep a little longer. I only slept three hours.”
“……….”
Jo Minjoon stared silently at Anderson’s back, then eventually got out of bed.
The situation was absurd, but he also felt sorry for him.
For Anderson, an American more particular about personal boundaries than most, to climb into a bed where someone else was already sleeping without saying anything meant he had to be genuinely exhausted.
Jo Minjoon pulled the blanket, which had only been covering Anderson’s waist, up over him and looked around.
“………Is no one here?”
He whispered towards the camera mounted on the ceiling.
Naturally, no answer came.
In the end, Jo Minjoon took a quick shower and left the room.
Anderson was still asleep, and there did not seem to be anyone waiting outside.
Once Jo Minjoon had dressed and stepped into the hallway, a cameraman approached him.
Jo Minjoon looked at him wearily.
“Were you waiting here the whole time?”
As usual, the cameraman did not speak. He simply smirked and nodded.
Professionals really are professionals.
“Where’s Martin?”
The cameraman pointed down the hallway.
Towards the lounge.
One step.
Ten steps.
By the time Jo Minjoon had taken around twenty-five, his feet stopped.
Partly because he had found Martin. But if Martin had been the only person there, he would have kept walking.
There was another face he had not expected to see.
“………Uh, huh?”
“It’s been a while, Minjoon.” The woman smiling gently and waving at him was none other than Rachel.
Jo Minjoon stared at her in confusion. “Are you participating in this too?”
“If I weren’t, I wouldn’t have much reason to be here.”
“Uh……… It’s good to see you again.”
“Rather than pleased, you look more bewildered.”
“Because I am. I can’t help it. I’m starting to think our relationship is lasting longer than I expected.”
Rachel smirked. “If you’re thinking I came because of you……I can’t say that has absolutely nothing to do with it, but that isn’t the real reason. I do want to watch your growth, but I could do that as a viewer. I’m here because I need this place too.”
“Can I ask why?”
“Of course. The reason is simple. I want to show people something.”
“Show them what?”
Rachel did not answer immediately.
The gentle smile slowly disappeared from her face.
When she finally opened her mouth, Jo Minjoon felt his shoulders grow inexplicably heavier.
Her words carried that much weight. “That I, Rachel Rose, have returned.”
A little after eight, all the participants gathered in the first-floor lobby of the hotel.
Emily kept glancing towards Rachel.
Emily herself was a highly recognised figure for her age, yet even she seemed unable to avoid feeling intimidated in front of Rachel.
Anderson, meanwhile, was looking at Rachel for an entirely different reason. The admiration in his eyes was so intense that Jo Minjoon got goosebumps just watching him.
Considering that Rachel had been his role model—no, practically his idol—since childhood, it was not impossible to understand.
He looks like he’s fallen in love.
The only time Anderson ever seemed like a child was when Rachel stood in front of him. Of course, given the age difference, those feelings could not actually be romantic. Still, the contrast with his usual demeanour was so extreme that Jo Minjoon could not help feeling awkward.
Martin cleared his throat. “Minjoon, Emily. I imagine the two of you were quite surprised.”
“………Do you think ‘surprised’ covers it? I think several of my neurons burned out from the shock. I’m considering calling a lawyer.” Emily spoke sulkily.
Martin gave her a sly smile. “Let’s meet the lawyer later. We can discuss the survival of your neurons then.”
“So, is this everyone?”
“No. Fortunately not. Additional members will appear in front of you in various ways. But before that, don’t you want to play a little game?”
Martin raised the same container of sticks from the previous day.
While Emily and Jo Minjoon frowned, Rachel asked quietly, “What is that?”
“Uh……drawing lots. They decide your food budget.”
“Food budget? I have money.”
“I’m sorry, but you can’t use your own money.”
“Why not?” Rachel looked at Martin.
She was not glaring at him the way Emily had the previous day, but Martin somehow found this far more intimidating.
He answered carefully. “Since it’s the first day, we thought we’d have a little fun with it. Give the viewers something entertaining……”
“We need to be short of money for the viewers to find it entertaining? If we have money, it isn’t fun?”
“No, that’s not exactly what I mean……”
“Martin. I’m simply asking you. Is it entertaining when we go hungry?”
“No. Of course not. That’s why I set the amounts high enough that everyone should be able to eat three meals a day……”
“There will be times when something looks delicious but one person can’t afford it. The person who drew more money will eat beside them, while the other person feels uncomfortable and embarrassed for no reason. Martin, is that tasting?”
Martin could not answer.
His mouth merely opened and closed.
Rachel spoke quietly. “Still, since the producer insists, I’ll stop here. Fine. I’ll draw one of your sticks. But……did you know there’s a Rose Island branch nearby?”
“Ah. There is?”
“Yes. One of my disciples runs it as head chef. And as you know, I doubt we’ll have to pay there. Naturally, that would apply to my guests as well.” Rachel smiled brightly and turned towards the other three. All three looked back at her with eyes filled with expectation. “Everyone, wouldn’t you like to be my guests?”