Chapter 14: Grand Chef Preliminaries, and… (5)
Chapter 14: Grand Chef Preliminaries, and… (5)
The distinctive aroma of properly grilled eel tickled his nose. The people watching Kaya cook unconsciously swallowed, and not one of them could look at her dish with indifference. It was unavoidable. Anyone with a working nose and tongue would have reacted the same way. It was that kind of dish.
Kaya sliced the eel and placed it on top of the mimosa salad. Jo Minjoon could vaguely imagine how it would taste. The candied lemon peel caramelised over the flame, bringing out its flavour even more. Its freshness helped remove the fishiness of the eel, while the aroma of the white wine she had used still lingered.
The combination with the mimosa salad was harder to imagine. Eggs, mayonnaise, and mustard—could those flavours really work with eel? If handled even slightly poorly, the egg itself could develop an unpleasant fishy quality. But because it was Kaya Lotus, she handled it effortlessly, eliminating the fishiness Jo Minjoon had expected.
After that, the dish was perfect. The savouriness of the eggs combined with the eel’s deep flavour, creating a richness almost like fish and meat blended together. The onions and cucumbers refreshed the palate, while the lettuce compensated for the lack of texture. It was a well-balanced dish. The combination of grilled eel and mimosa salad was flawless, and the system reflected that result as well.
[Mimosa Salad and Grilled Eel]
Freshness: 85%
Origins: (Too many ingredients to determine)
Quality: High (Average ingredients)
Cooking Points: 8/10
Jo Minjoon stared at the score in disbelief. Eight points. This was practically cheating. Of course, it was entirely Kaya’s own work, but eight points… Didn’t that mean it was good enough to be served in a Michelin-starred restaurant?
She’s beyond the level of someone who should be competing on Grand Chef.
Jo Minjoon gave a weak laugh. One camera was focused on him, capturing the way he could not take his eyes off Kaya. The person holding it was not the cameraman, but the programme director, who had taken the camera from him.
There’s always value in a man’s innocent admiration.
The programme director smiled and zoomed in on Jo Minjoon’s face. It did not matter what Jo Minjoon was actually thinking. What the camera captured was the image of a young man staring at a woman in amazement. The meaning would depend entirely on how the viewers interpreted it, and a few well-placed subtitles would be enough to steer that interpretation.
Kaya placed her completed dish on the trolley and went to meet the judges. The audience watched her retreating back in a daze, but they did not have to wait long. Before much time had passed, Kaya emerged from the judges’ room again.
Naturally, there was a badge pinned to her chest.
“You were staring pretty intently at Kaya earlier.”
The comment came out of nowhere during the interview. Jo Minjoon widened his eyes and looked at the programme director. His name was Marin Osburn. He was thirty-one years old, and his smile was amiable enough to put almost anyone at ease.
“You’re twenty-one, right? That’s a good age. I had quite a few crushes myself when I was your age.”
Technically, Jo Minjoon was indeed twenty-one, since his birthday had not yet passed. He replied with a slightly strained voice, “I think you’re misunderstanding something.”
“Am I? Maybe I just interpreted what I saw that way.”
The teasing irritated him slightly, but Jo Minjoon merely sighed. “Her cooking skills were outstanding today. I was just admiring them for a moment.”
“When you say outstanding, do you mean she’s better than you?”
Marin asked the question jokingly, but Jo Minjoon hesitated for a moment. His thoughts were clear. He was still lacking compared with Kaya, and that gap was not something he could close quickly. Even so, admitting it aloud felt humiliating. In the end, he answered with resignation.
“She was the best contestant here today. Better than anyone else I’ve seen. She’ll probably be the best contestant in this competition too.”
Jo Minjoon thought he had answered well, but Marin immediately found another amusing angle. What if he cut the clip so that only Jo Minjoon saying she was the best remained? Of course, that would be going a little too far. Marin continued while entertaining all sorts of ideas.
“You’re saying she’ll be the best contestant in the competition. Does that mean you think she’ll win?”
“If nothing unusual happens, she probably will. And I hope I’m the one who overturns that result.”
Jo Minjoon’s way of speaking was unexpectedly formal. Although he had not grown up in an English-speaking country, the vocabulary and phrasing he used sometimes sounded more sophisticated than those of native speakers. In truth, that was not particularly strange. Korean English education often emphasised difficult vocabulary and formal expressions rather than ordinary conversational speech. It was entirely possible for a Korean learner to know complicated English terms while still struggling with simple everyday replies.
Of course, difficult vocabulary alone did not make someone sound professional. The greater reason Jo Minjoon’s words came across that way was that he usually thought carefully before speaking. Part of that was because English was not his native language, but he also simply did not want to become someone who spoke carelessly.
“That’s a good ambition. Personally, I’d like you to win the competition, Jo Minjoon.”
“…I have a feeling you’ve already said that to everyone you interviewed.”
“Caught me.”
Marin laughed before continuing. “I heard a brief version of your story from the people who came with you. It sounds like you went through something pretty serious as soon as you arrived in the US.”
“I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Minjoon, a good story produces good results. Of course, this programme places more emphasis on cooking, but imagine two dishes that taste exactly the same. Depending on your story, the judges may favour you or they may not. They’re human too.”
“…I’d rather be eliminated. I don’t want to win because of a story instead of my cooking.”
“You said you wanted to make this your stage. Minjoon, is that all the resolve you have?”
At Marin’s words, Jo Minjoon’s gaze sharpened. Resolve? What kind of resolve was he talking about? The resolve to turn the Dean family’s tears into light entertainment for strangers? When he answered, his voice was noticeably harsher, almost like a stray dog warning someone not to come any closer.
“My resolve is to make delicious food. That’s all.”
Marin did not answer immediately. He simply looked at Jo Minjoon, and Jo Minjoon refused to avert his eyes as though backing down would mean losing. After a moment, Marin gave a bitter smile.
“You’re a good person. And a good chef.”
He meant it sincerely. During his time as a programme director on Grand Chef, Marin had met all kinds of people and heard every imaginable story. Although it was a cooking programme, television inevitably cared as much about stimulating viewers as it did about the quality of the food. The programme directors always wanted contestants with stories that could draw the audience in, and some participants even fabricated stories for that purpose.
The reason broadcasts distorted reality was simple: more viewers. The contestants had their own reasons as well. They wanted sympathy. They wanted to fill their dishes with tears and emotion.
In truth, it was fairly effective. If two dishes were on the same level, the programme directors sometimes asked the judges to favour the contestant with the more compelling story or greater star potential. Naturally, the judges disliked being asked to do that, but when faced with dishes of truly equal quality, choosing between them could be difficult. At times like those, even the judges inevitably leaned towards contestants with greater star potential. They might not consciously choose them for that reason, but the effect undeniably existed.
And the man sitting in front of Marin was willingly giving up that advantage. Of course, Jo Minjoon’s own story was not bad. An Asian university graduate pursuing his dream of becoming a chef and crossing half the world to do so certainly had appeal. Even so, it lacked a certain emotional weight.
“…You might regret this. Minjoon, what happened to you in New York with the Dean family could become a very powerful weapon. I’m a programme director, and I can guarantee you that. Even so, you still don’t want us to mention it?”
“Yes. I don’t.”
Marin fell silent for a moment. When he finally spoke again, the same easy smile he had worn at the beginning had returned.
“Fine. Minjoon, I’ll respect your decision. This is a programme where you’re supposed to win with your cooking skills. Only then will winning here actually mean something.”
“…Thank you for understanding.”
Jo Minjoon’s expression relaxed. Looking at him, Marin spoke with genuine seriousness.
“I hope you become the winner.”
It was the second time he had said those words, but their meaning was completely different now. Jo Minjoon smiled.
“Looks like I’ve gained a reassuring fan.”