Chapter 120: The Laws of Tasting (2)
Chapter 120: The Laws of Tasting (2)
Unfortunately, they did not go to Rose Island. In the end, Martin gave each of them 150 reais. Honestly, it was difficult to have a luxurious meal with that amount, but if they spent it normally, it would still be more than enough for three meals.
“………Amazing. Rachel, when Emily and I protested, he didn’t even bat an eye.”
“It’s the power of experience.”
It looks more like the power of money and influence.
Jo Minjoon did not say that aloud.
Anderson spoke. “Teacher, if there’s anything you want to eat, please tell me. If you don’t want to travel somewhere just for a restaurant, I’ll cook it for you.”
“I appreciate the thought, but since we’ve come all the way to Brazil, shouldn’t we experience Brazil’s flavours and charm?”
“Speaking of charm, I suppose it would be difficult to see Carnival, right?”
“This year’s Carnival ended six months ago. It’s held in February.” Martin shrugged with a regretful expression.
Jo Minjoon felt disappointed at those words, but at the same time, strangely relieved. With his personality, he suspected he would have difficulty fitting into such a hot-blooded, exuberant atmosphere.
Come to think of it, people online say I’m boring because I look like a shut-in.
Of course, some people might say that was part of his charm, but he still could not help feeling bitter about it.
“Minjoon. What about you?”
“……Yes?”
“Where do you want to go? Isn’t there any Brazilian food you want to try?” Emily asked brightly.
Perhaps she still felt grateful because he had taken her side and cooked dinner for her the previous day. There was noticeably more warmth in her gaze.
Jo Minjoon slowly shook his head. “Like I said before, I don’t know much about Brazilian food.”
“Mm…… How was the feijoada you ate yesterday?”
“It was delicious. Honestly, I think I liked it even more than the churrasco. It was an unusual experience.”
“More than the churrasco…… I think I can roughly understand your preferences when it comes to tasting.” Rachel nodded.
First of all, there was meat. How many people in the world truly disliked meat? And if it was high-quality meat prepared by a professional who had worked with it for decades, then naturally its texture and flavour would be on another level.
Rachel had not been with them the previous day, so she could not know the exact quality of either the churrasco or the feijoada.
Even so, she could tell what Jo Minjoon valued more in a dish.
The chef.
How clearly the chef’s thoughts and methods appeared in the food.
Honestly, a dish like feijoada, which required a more complicated process and far more time and effort, naturally revealed those things more easily than churrasco did. Of course, if someone possessed deep enough knowledge of meat, they might be able to read a chef’s philosophy and intentions even from something as simple as the movement of a knife.
But even for Jo Minjoon, with his remarkable palate and talent, that was impossible at his age.
In the end, that was something only experience could provide.
Take my experience…… Minjoon.
If Jo Minjoon wanted it, Rachel intended to become a pillar he could lean on and a rock he could brace himself against whenever necessary.
She wanted him that badly.
Jo Minjoon was a gemstone. Rachel was not a jeweller, but she knew better than almost anyone what a beautifully polished gem looked like. After all, she had once been married to one.
Rachel spoke. “How about coffee?”
Everyone let out an “Ah,” then nodded.
Brazil was so famous for coffee that they wondered how none of them had thought of it sooner.
Anderson looked at Rachel and cautiously spoke, looking almost like a job applicant wondering whether he should say what was on his mind.
“Coffee and brunch…… Come to think of it, brunch probably won’t work because we have to eat three meals a day. Since it’s breakfast, how about a simple Brazilian breakfast?”
“What’s that like?” The only breakfasts Jo Minjoon really knew were English and American breakfasts.
Anderson shrugged. “Cheese, cold cuts, toasted cheese, fruit, cereal, pão de queijo, orange cake or banana cake. You don’t need all of them, and you don’t have to eat only those things. But that’s roughly the feeling.”
(Translator’s Note: Pão de queijo — A Brazilian cheese bread made primarily from cassava starch and cheese, particularly associated with Minas Gerais. Its roots lie in colonial-era cassava baking traditions, with cheese becoming a defining ingredient by approximately the eighteenth or nineteenth century.)
“I agree.” Emily spoke immediately.
Rachel and Anderson looked towards Jo Minjoon.
Jo Minjoon raised both hands. “What can I do when I don’t know anything? I can only follow you.”
“Good. Let’s go. Teacher, do you have any restaurants in mind nearby?”
“Maybe. I know a few, but it’s already been more than ten years…… I wonder whether he’s still alive. That old man was older than me.”
How sad must it be when the people around you began speaking so casually about death?
For a moment, a bitter smile appeared on Rachel’s face, but she soon recovered her composure.
Looking at her, Jo Minjoon found himself thinking that perhaps the reason wrinkles on elderly people felt so sorrowful was because they reflected how many people they had already been forced to say goodbye to.
Rachel was only sixty, yet the lines on her face were already deep. When he imagined that some of them might have been carved there by grief over losing someone she loved, his chest tightened. Fortunately, the restaurant Rachel had in mind was only about ten minutes away.
Of course, that was ten minutes at Rachel’s walking pace. If it had been only Jo Minjoon and Anderson, they probably could have arrived in less than five. But walking slowly had its own advantages. For one thing, they could properly take in the scenery.
There was nothing particularly remarkable about the buildings themselves. Plenty of old-fashioned structures stood around them, but they were the sort one could also see throughout Europe or the United States.
What caught their attention more were the people.
Brazil was a country with many ethnic groups, and even so, the sight of Black men leaning back in chairs beneath parasols and talking leisurely left a strong impression on them.
“Minjoon, you said you haven’t travelled abroad much, right?”
“Ah, yes.”
“You made the right choice coming on this programme. For celebrities, appearing on television too often can reduce their scarcity value, so they have to be careful. But we aren’t celebrities. We’re chefs. A chef loses value not because they appear on television too often, but when their cooking becomes stagnant and repetitive. You know there are plenty of restaurants that earn a third star and then fail to keep it at the next evaluation, right?”
“There are also chefs who don’t want the stars because of the pressure.” Anderson interjected.
Rachel nodded gently. “Right. But the important thing is that stars aren’t taken away simply because the food suddenly tastes bad. We’re talking about three stars. Three. If the head chef hasn’t changed, then the kitchen’s basic level should still remain high. And yet the restaurant loses a star. Minjoon, have you ever thought about why? What do you think the problem is?”
Jo Minjoon thought for a moment.
It was just as Rachel had said. If the head chef remained the same, then the overall level of the kitchen could remain the same as well. And yet the evaluation became harsher.
Why?
Just as he was about to answer after thinking it through, Anderson spoke first. “Because of inertia?”
“Be more specific.”
“The moment a restaurant receives three stars, it’s probably at its peak. In other words, the menu at that moment is also at its best. That makes it difficult for the head chef and owner to change it. If the menu becomes standardised and changes start disappearing……then naturally the evaluation becomes stricter.”
“Speaking as an food critic, not a little stricter. Much stricter. A kitchen run by a chef who no longer researches or changes has no charm at all. Think about it. Suppose you have a lover, and she wears the exact same clothes today and tomorrow……and it’s not because she’s poor, but because she simply has no interest in choosing anything different. How would you feel as her lover? Right?” Emily cut in.
It was a very feminine comparison, but everyone understood it immediately.
Rachel snapped her fingers. “Exactly. That’s an epicurean way of putting it. But from a chef’s perspective, it’s easy to become trapped like that. You start thinking, What if I change clothes and they say the new ones don’t suit me? Wouldn’t it be safer to stay exactly as I am? That’s why moments like this are important.”
“How are the two connected?”
“It’s obvious that if you invest enough time and dedication into any single field, your understanding of it will deepen. But if you want to become well versed in a broad range rather than just one narrow field, ordinary experience won’t be enough. Experiencing foreign cultures and ways of thinking will help you tremendously later. Your perspective will broaden. Instead of designing recipes inside a tiny world, wouldn’t they become more colourful if you created them while looking at a much wider one?” Rachel answered Jo Minjoon in a quiet voice.
Watching them, Martin felt something profound.
This was supposed to be a variety programme, yet in an instant it had turned into an educational documentary. Still, the footage itself was not bad. Entertainment did not necessarily have to be funny. It simply had to be interesting. If he edited it properly, there was more than enough material to make it compelling.
As they talked, the ten-minute walk did not feel long at all. The restaurant they eventually reached was inside a building that looked as though it had been restored. The walls were made of red brick, while the white-framed windows looked modern enough to have been replaced recently. Above them sat a roof covered in red ceramic tiles. It had the kind of appearance children might draw if someone simply told them to draw a house. The restaurant was not overflowing with customers, but there were not many empty tables either.
More importantly, most of the people inside did not look like tourists. They seemed like locals. Rather than dressing carefully for an outing, most had simply thrown on casual clothes and come out for a walk.
Emily nodded approvingly. “Definitely. If you want to understand the real local flavour, it’s better to go somewhere residents eat rather than somewhere aimed at tourists.”
Rachel did not answer. She merely kept looking towards the kitchen.
Before long, a female employee approached and spoke in English that sounded obviously memorised. “If you sit down, I will take your order.”
“No. That’s not it…… Is Douglas here?” Rachel spoke in fluent Portuguese.
The employee’s expression immediately brightened. This time, she answered in Portuguese as well. “Douglas? ……Ah. Were you a friend of the former owner?”
“Former?”
“Ah, don’t worry. He didn’t leave because anything happened to him. He’s retired now and resting. He still comes by the restaurant sometimes……but I don’t know. I’m not sure whether he’ll come today.”
“Then who owns the place now?”
“Mr. Douglas’s daughter. Her name is Camila……”
“Ah…… I see.” Rachel sat down with a peculiar expression.
Perhaps she had expected Douglas to be dead. Or perhaps she had simply imagined him still working in the restaurant exactly as he had in her memories, even though she herself had already left her own kitchen, abandoned her restaurant, and retired.
She smiled calmly and turned towards the others. “You said you wanted a Brazilian breakfast, right? Tell me if you want anything else. There are things I recommend, and things you should never order.”
“………Didn’t you bring us here because they’re good?”
“Just because someone has a pretty face doesn’t mean the rest of them is pretty too.”
In the end, Jo Minjoon ordered the Brazilian breakfast despite feeling uneasy.
He also ordered feijoada.
He wanted to experience again the same sense of excitement he had felt after tasting a spoonful of Emily’s the previous day.
The price was not particularly burdensome either.
Together, the two dishes cost only 25 reais.
Yesterday’s churrasco place really was expensive.
Of course, it had been an all-you-can-eat restaurant on the beach, so it made sense. At the same time, another thought crossed his mind. If he wanted to serve customers good ingredients at the lowest possible cost, he would probably need to open a restaurant somewhere with cheap land.
But if the land is cheap, there probably won’t be many good locations with lots of tourists………
Either way, it was not something he needed to think about right now.
The employee returned carrying several plates. The contents and price of a Brazilian breakfast could vary enormously, but Jo Minjoon had ordered the most ordinary version.
He wanted to try the sort of breakfast Brazilians normally ate, but he was also worried about getting too full before the feijoada arrived.
Jo Minjoon looked down at the food placed before him.
There was a Portuguese-style French roll, ham made from cured pork leg, baked pão de queijo, half a papaya, cheese, chilled mozzarella, and corn cake.
The first thing he tried was the pão de queijo.
The name sounded unfamiliar, but the moment he bit into it, the texture and flavour felt surprisingly familiar. The bread had a chewy texture reminiscent of glutinous rice bread, while the aroma of cheese spread through the dense crumb.
Cooking score: 6.
It was nothing extraordinary, but……
If I had this sitting beside me, I’d probably keep eating until I was full.
It was not overwhelmingly delicious. It simply had a subtle charm. An addictive quality.
Still, he could not keep eating only that. There was not much food on the plate, and he wanted to try everything else first. He placed ham and mozzarella on the bread roll and took a bite. Honestly, there was nothing particularly special about the flavour.
Jo Minjoon stared at it for a moment, then turned towards the feijoada.
After that, he glanced at the others.
………They won’t think I’m weird, right?
With a perfectly calm expression, as though he were doing nothing unusual, Jo Minjoon spooned feijoada over the bread.
Contrary to his expectations, all three of them immediately turned towards him.
Had he really done something strange?
Just as Jo Minjoon began laughing awkwardly, Emily spoke in surprise.
“Minjoon. You prefer pouring soup over bread?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Mm…… Wouldn’t it be better to dip the bread into it? The thick soup clings to the bread, and when you pull it out, it feels almost like dragging something out of a marsh. The soup seeps between the holes in the bread too, so the aroma gets stronger.”
“I don’t know. When I dip bread into soup, it never absorbs as much as I expect, and putting things on top of the bread afterwards is awkward too. More than anything, if you pour the soup over it, you can feel the texture of the soup more clearly. Anderson, what about you?”
“You should dip it. It’s more convenient. If you spoon soup over the bread, one mistake and it runs over your fingers. Then your hands get dirty.”
Jo Minjoon chewed his bread with a sulky expression.
Then Rachel smiled brightly. “I like pouring it too. If you dip the bread, crumbs fall into the soup and make the texture slightly rough. I don’t like that.”
“Ah, at least someone’s on my side.” Jo Minjoon smiled as though he had been rescued.
Anderson looked at the two of them, cleared his throat, and spoke. “Actually, now that I think about it, I pour it more often than I dip it. It’s less convenient, but it tastes better. And like Teacher said, I don’t like breadcrumbs getting into the soup either……”
All three gazes turned towards Anderson.
Anderson looked down at his plate with a slightly embarrassed expression. “……People have different tastes.”