Chapter 138: What a Kitchen Is (3)
Chapter 138: What a Kitchen Is (3)
They were childish words. But perhaps because the feelings behind them were so sincere and lovely, Jo Minjoon did not dislike that childishness very much.
At the same time, what Alan had said was also reasonable.
Jo Minjoon spoke calmly.
“I didn’t lie. And I won’t give up cooking. Alan, I promise I won’t stop until the day I own the best restaurant, so don’t worry.”
“……Now that you say it like that, I do feel a little more relieved.”
“But what did you mean earlier? When you said you ran away from the kitchen.”
“When do you think that happened?”
Alan smiled softly as he asked.
Jo Minjoon thought for a moment before answering.
“Wasn’t it when you first started learning under Rachel?”
“No. The opposite. Back then, I still had hope. I thought that once I became a demi-chef, then a sous-chef, then a head chef, things would be different. That all the suffering would end and I’d finally be able to run the kitchen happily as though it were mine.”
(Translator’s Note: Demi-chef —A junior supervisory position in the classical French brigade de cuisine system, usually assisting the chef de partie responsible for a particular station. The modern brigade system was formalised by French chef Auguste Escoffier (1846–1935) in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.)
“……That wasn’t what happened?”
Jo Minjoon asked, unable to understand.
Alan smiled brightly and turned towards Rachel.
Rachel was watching him with an unreadable expression. Facing that look, Alan slowly brought the memories buried in his heart back to the surface.
“Hope is something you place a step ahead of yourself. Like I said, when I was a demi-chef, I looked towards becoming a sous-chef, and when I became a sous-chef, I looked towards becoming a head chef. Looking ahead like that made things easier to endure. I told myself, The reason things are so hard right now is because I’m still beneath someone else. Once I become head chef, everything will change. And then……”
Alan clicked his tongue and shrugged.
After that, he let out a clear sigh and continued in a composed voice.
“When I finally became a head chef, I realised it wasn’t the most comfortable position at all. It was the position where you carried the most responsibility. You’ve probably seen it online plenty of times. A head chef screaming through the kitchen like a madman. What do you think when you see that?”
“……That they have terrible tempers?”
Kaya answered with a puzzled expression.
If someone yelled at her like that, she was not entirely confident she could stop herself from fighting back.
Anderson cut in.
“A lot of them do have bad tempers, but temper alone isn’t what creates that kind of harsh atmosphere.”
“Right. You have to work while keeping everyone under control. But there’s no need to scream like that. Well, it’s not that I’m particularly against it. Honestly, with my personality, I’ve already decided that once I become a head chef, I’ll start biting people like a hyena.”
“……You’ve already made up your mind to do that?”
“It was an easy decision. That’s why I prepared myself in advance. What? Is there a problem?”
At Kaya’s perfectly natural answer, Anderson could only stare at her in disbelief.
Kaya’s brows twitched before she glanced towards Jo Minjoon.
But Jo Minjoon was still looking at Alan.
“I think I understand what you mean. Because of the pressure of being head chef and having to control the entire kitchen, you end up spending the whole day shouting like that. There’s no way you can feel relaxed.”
“That’s part of it. But not all of it. Once you become a head chef, you also have to worry about the restaurant’s reputation and sales. You have to develop new menus, create flavours that are adventurous without going too far, and at the same time make dishes that won’t disappoint the expectations of your regular customers.”
Alan sighed and shook his head.
“To be honest, I still struggle with it. People I know ask what I have to worry about when I already have two Michelin stars……but I still haven’t grown used to this burden. Every day feels like a war. Is the kitchen running properly? Did the ingredients arrive in the same condition as usual? Were there any customer complaints? And if there were, was something wrong with my dish, or was that customer simply too demanding? You start thinking about all sorts of things……and the more you think, the more your head hurts.”
“I can’t say I understand all of it……but I think I understand what you’re trying to say.”
Jo Minjoon remembered Rachel saying that cooking was still difficult even for her.
If Rachel felt that way, then how could Alan possibly find it easy?
Whatever the field, things naturally became harder the deeper you went.
Wasn’t the ground itself like that?
Jo Minjoon spoke again.
There was now a strong possibility that he would work under Rachel after the programme ended. If that happened, he would not have many opportunities to meet other chefs in situations like this.
So while he had the chance, he wanted to absorb everything he could.
Of course, Rachel would teach him a great deal.
But he believed there were also things only Alan could teach him.
Alan continued.
“In the end, the hardest thing is your mentality. Ordinary employees get stressed because of their boss or workplace. Chefs get stressed because of the customers. The ironic part is that customers are the people who trouble a chef the most……and at the same time, they’re the people a chef loves most and receives the most love from.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier just not to think of the jerks as customers?”
“Do you think jerks are jerks from the beginning? Imagine a regular who always leaves with a smile and something kind to say. Then one day, after eating, he leaves with a stiff expression. After that, he never comes back. Later, you discover that he wrote everything that disappointed him about your restaurant on his blog. That’s one of the deepest scars a chef can receive. The sense of loss isn’t much smaller than losing someone you loved.”
How long had it taken Alan before he could say those words aloud?
The atmosphere grew heavy.
Alan clapped his hands.
“Of course, I’m only talking about the dark side. Just as complaints come back to you, smiles and compliments come back too. And the happiness and comfort they give you can be enormous. But even when you’re happy, one unexpected blow can still make you sick. And if you don’t want to become sick from it, you can’t be fragile. Minjoon. Anderson. Kaya. Are you weak, or are you strong?”
None of them could answer that they were strong.
People were like that.
There were plenty who pretended to be strong, but genuinely strong people were difficult to find no matter how hard you looked.
Of course, there were probably people who believed themselves strong without understanding themselves properly.
But the three of them knew themselves better than that.
Just then, Martin glanced towards Alan.
Alan slowly blinked once, then spoke.
“If you don’t know, why not test it?”
“A test?”
“Stand in my kitchen.”
Alan pointed towards the pasta that was disappearing from the plates.
“I’ll teach you as much as I can about that pasta recipe before dinner service begins. Are you confident you can prove yourselves to tonight’s customers?”
“……Prove what?”
Kaya asked uneasily.
Alan answered with a serious expression.
“That you’re chefs.”
It had been a long time since Jo Minjoon had worn a chef’s uniform, yet it did not feel unfamiliar at all.
He had borrowed it from someone else, but even so, it felt natural.
Jo Minjoon liked that about himself.
Perhaps the uniform no longer felt strange because his mentality had finally begun to resemble that of a real chef.
Of course, it was a rather childish thought……
“I haven’t worn one of these in ages, but it doesn’t feel strange at all. Does that mean my soul is already a chef’s? What, Minjoon? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“……No reason.”
Jo Minjoon turned his head awkwardly.
Anderson looked irritated.
“Don’t mess around like this while we’re cooking. I’ll dump salt on both of you.”
“Do I look like a child who can’t tell the difference between work and play?”
Anderson shut his mouth as though the answer was too obvious to bother saying aloud.
They were in the kitchen.
It was the interval between lunch and dinner, so Alan and most of the chefs were taking a brief rest.
Of course, that did not apply to the lowest-ranking staff.
Three of them were still stirring pots of soup, sauces, and other preparations at one station, while the rest watched the three guests with curiosity.
“We should each be able to use one workstation. At least for now.”
Jo Minjoon had barely finished murmuring when Martin and Alan approached.
Jo Minjoon looked around, then past them.
“Where did everyone else go?”
“They went to explore Florencia’s street food.”
“And we’re staying here to practise cooking?”
“Why? You don’t like it?”
“No, it’s not that……”
No matter how delicious Florencia’s food might be, it could not compare with the chance to experience the atmosphere of Alan’s kitchen with his own body.
Martin spoke.
“For the sake of making the programme more entertaining, and because kitchen space is limited, we’ve decided to turn this into a competition between the three of you.”
“A competition?”
“Whoever makes the best olive-oil linguine will work as the demi-chef in charge of the pasta station tonight. The other two will work as that person’s assistants.”
Kaya, Anderson, and Jo Minjoon looked at one another warily.
They had competed many times before as team leaders and team members.
But this time, the losers would become assistants.
Precisely because they were friends and comrades, none of them particularly liked that idea.
Kaya spoke with obvious determination.
“Fine. Then tell us the recipe.”
“Grind basil and mix it into olive oil, then fry garlic in that oil. Slice the bok choy and squid, then add them. Flambé with white wine, sauté again, and season with salt. Cook the linguine for about seven minutes, then finish it in the pan while it’s still slightly wet.”
Jo Minjoon organised Alan’s explanation in his head.
A moment later, he looked puzzled.
“Is that……all?”
“Yes.”
Alan answered confidently.
That only made Jo Minjoon more confused.
Because the expected cooking score he could see was 9.
What is this?
Of course, if a cook’s skill pushed a dish to its absolute limit, it was not impossible for the final score to exceed what the recipe predicted.
But as that implied, it was merely not impossible.
The sous-chef responsible for the pasta station had a cooking level of only 7.
It was almost impossible for someone at that level to turn a nine-point recipe into a ten-point dish.
Even for Jo Minjoon, turning a six-point recipe into a seven-point dish was not easy.
That left only two possibilities.
Either Alan had given them the wrong recipe, or he had deliberately left something out.
Is he telling us to find what’s missing and fill it in ourselves……?
Jo Minjoon closed his eyes.
No matter how many times he reconstructed the recipe in his head, he could not find the answer.
For now, he would simply have to make it.
The three stood at their respective workstations and began cooking the linguine.
Even the way they handled their knives was different.
Kaya was rough but brilliant.
Anderson was fast and precise.
Jo Minjoon was calm and neat.
The olive oil infused with ground basil released a rich aroma as it heated. Squid and bok choy went into the pan.
When white wine was poured in, vividly coloured flames surged upwards before dying down, and the cooked linguine was tossed in immediately afterwards.
Jo Minjoon removed the noodles while they were still moist and plated them carefully.
The bok choy and squid were arranged neatly beside the pasta.
At least in appearance, it looked exactly like the dish he had eaten earlier.
But Jo Minjoon could see that its score was only 9.
There was no reason to be delighted simply because it was a nine-point dish, something he rarely encountered.
The secret behind that score was not his skill.
It was Alfredo’s noodles.
Jo Minjoon slowly twirled the pasta around his fork.
It was delicious.
The flavour and elasticity of the noodles were vivid, as were the aromas of the squid and bok choy.
But something was missing.
Alan, who had been watching him from the side, spoke.
“Do you think you recreated it perfectly?”
“……No. Something’s missing.”
“Really?”
Alan looked at him with an expression that barely concealed his amusement.
That alone convinced Jo Minjoon completely.
Something had definitely been omitted from the recipe.
Jo Minjoon went over to the other two.
“Can I taste yours?”
“If you let me taste yours too.”
“Let’s swap.”
They exchanged plates.
Kaya’s and Anderson’s linguine were not particularly different from his own.
The ingredients and recipe were identical, so there was no reason they would be.
There were tiny differences in flavour, but nothing significant enough to change the score.
Every ingredient Alan mentioned was also listed by the system.
If all the ingredients were present, then perhaps the difference lay in the cooking time or the order of preparation.
At least, that was what Jo Minjoon thought.
Then he tasted the pasta Alan had made.
A faint sweetness brushed the tip of his tongue.
It was a flavour absent from his own dish.
At that moment, Jo Minjoon felt as though he understood what it was.
“Could it be……?”