Chapter 140: What a Kitchen Is (5)
Chapter 140: What a Kitchen Is (5)
Once the demi-chef had been decided, Alan did not merely teach Jo Minjoon the recipe. He also explained the sequence of work and the proper cooking methods. He covered several things, but what he emphasised most was memorising the order in which each batch of pasta had been started.
It did not matter much when making only one or two portions, but in a restaurant serving many customers, remembering the cooking order was essential. If you mixed up one batch with another that had been boiling longer, you could end up serving undercooked pasta in one hand and overcooked pasta in the other.
Fortunately, they were only responsible for the linguine. It was not that they handled the linguine while other chefs cooked different kinds of pasta. The menu Olive Island was serving that day contained only the linguine they had eaten earlier.
When they asked why, Alan answered simply,
“We change the menu every day of the week. And each day’s menu changes again with the seasons.”
The first thing that occurred to Jo Minjoon was whether there were other dishes capable of earning the same score.
The difficulty of making this pasta was probably unusually high, but even so, he became curious about the other recipes. In truth, this particular dish was difficult to reproduce without Alfredo’s linguine.
He wanted to learn a ten-point recipe that could be made with ordinary ingredients.
……Even I think I sound like a thief.
Jo Minjoon smacked his lips uneasily.
There were countless people who spent months or years doing menial work in famous restaurants just for the chance to learn recipes like these.
Simply having Alan’s recipe exposed to him in a single day was enough to leave a bitter taste in his mouth.
After practising several times, there was nothing more they needed to prepare.
All that remained was waiting for the customers.
Since there was still time to relax, the chefs nearby began gathering around them to talk.
Of the three, Anderson was the most popular.
His parents, Amelia and Fabio, were Italian-American, just as their names suggested, so Anderson could also speak Italian. For the chefs who were not fluent in English, that meant they could either speak directly with Anderson or communicate with the other two through interpreters.
While Anderson was being surrounded by the other chefs, one person approached Kaya and Jo Minjoon.
It was Berta, the youngest chef, who had been unable to hide her excitement when she first met them.
She untied the yellow scarf around her neck and held out a pen with an eager expression.
“Could I……get both your autographs?”
“Ah, of course.”
Jo Minjoon smiled brightly and signed the scarf.
When Kaya took the pen, Berta carefully spoke again.
“If it’s okay……could you overlap your signature with Minjoon’s?”
“……What? Why?”
“There might be people who have both your signatures, but probably no one has them like this. I like being the first. Even if I can’t be the last……being first has its own kind of romance.”
“The first……”
Kaya repeated the words quietly, then reached out and wrote over Jo Minjoon’s signature.
Her handwriting was terrible.
Kaya flushed in embarrassment.
“I’m not very good at writing.”
“No. The fact that it’s your signature……um, that’s what gives it value. Yes. Thank you.”
They could not dislike the way Berta struggled to express what she wanted in English.
Kaya looked at her name overlapping Jo Minjoon’s. Her slender fingers and long nails slowly traced over the two signatures.
Soon, Berta took the scarf back and tied it around her neck.
“I’ll treasure it for the rest of my life.”
It was impossible to tell whether those were merely polite words or completely sincere.
For a while afterwards, pleasant and gentle conversation continued between them.
But like everything else, the peaceful time eventually ended.
At 4:50 p.m., the chefs moved into position to prepare for the customers who would soon arrive.
Alan stood between the dining room and kitchen, looking at them.
Several customers had already entered, and the servers were beginning to take their orders.
Alan spoke calmly.
“The reason I gave you a place in my kitchen wasn’t for the sake of the programme. The reason is simple. I trust your ability, your mentality, and your attitude. I believe that even under pressure, you won’t send out a ruined dish or prove so incompetent that you make customers wait.”
Alan met the eyes of Jo Minjoon, Kaya, and Anderson before continuing in a lower voice.
“I hope my judgement isn’t wrong. All I want is to hear the customers laugh happily. Only then will you and I be able to finish the day smiling.”
Just as he finished speaking, an order ticket came out of the printer.
Alan tore it off and called out in a firm voice.
“Table thirteen. Day course for four. Start!”
The chefs at the appetiser station immediately began moving.
It was not yet time for Jo Minjoon and the other two.
It would take roughly twenty minutes for the customers to finish the appetisers, while the linguine itself took less than eight minutes to prepare.
Jo Minjoon calmly turned towards Kaya.
“Kaya. Check the water temperature.”
“It’s just right.”
“Anderson. You already made the basil olive oil, right?”
“There’s enough for more than a hundred portions.”
Jo Minjoon nodded.
He calmly examined the ingredients.
That was all he needed to do.
Origin, quality, freshness.
He could check everything in an instant.
And Alan was certainly Alan. There was not a single ingredient on the workstation in poor condition.
Jo Minjoon checked the time calmly.
They needed to start the pasta when the amuse-bouche plates came back.
The following appetisers—the ceviche and mozzarella—would take around seven minutes to eat.
That gave them just enough time to prepare the linguine.
“Kaya. Linguine.”
“Yeah. Four portions first, right?”
“In two minutes, we need another three.”
“Got it.”
Adjusting the quantity according to the number of people at each table required considerable concentration.
But Jo Minjoon did not find it especially difficult.
He had always been good at memorising things. Even at school, subjects that depended heavily on memory had been his strength.
Remembering the order of several batches of pasta was hardly challenging.
Anderson sliced the squid and bok choy, then passed them to Jo Minjoon.
Following the recipe, Jo Minjoon infused the oil with sweetness, then added the squid and bok choy and sautéed them.
He flambéed them with white wine.
At exactly the right moment, Kaya added the pasta.
Then it was done.
As Jo Minjoon arranged the linguine neatly on the plate, Alan lifted it and inspected every part.
He wiped away droplets of olive oil that had splashed onto the rim, then lifted a single strand of pasta and tasted it.
There was nothing wrong with it.
In only one day—no, more precisely, in only a few hours—Jo Minjoon had completely mastered the recipe.
Having the skill really does make a difference.
Alan nodded.
In truth, purely in terms of cooking ability, the three of them were not that far behind his sous-chef.
They were that talented.
Even if Kaya or Anderson had been the one handling the pan instead of Jo Minjoon, the result probably would not have changed much.
Cooking needed every stage of the process to be performed properly for the final result to be perfect.
The reason they could produce ten-point dishes this consistently was because Anderson and Kaya were each doing their own work flawlessly.
But that was only possible because the restaurant had not yet become crowded.
The three of them, deep inside the kitchen, could not see it.
Alan could.
People were gradually beginning to fill the dining room.
And the intervals between order tickets coming from the printer were growing shorter.
Alan was in the middle of inspecting their dishes when the sound of four sets of footsteps approached.
He turned his head.
“Did you enjoy your trip around Florencia?”
“Florencia is a city that’s always beautiful and delicious whenever you visit. The streets and food are full of romance.”
“I’m glad.”
Alan smiled softly at Rachel’s answer.
Jeremy stroked his chin.
“Judging by the situation, Minjoon won?”
“Yes.”
“As expected. His palate is sensitive, so I suppose that makes a difference.”
“Mm. The circumstances were a little different……but yes, something like that.”
Kaya had been the one who first detected the presence of the Brussels sprouts.
Even so, Alan still could not tell whether Jo Minjoon had genuinely failed to identify them at first or had simply pretended not to know.
Sera crossed her arms and watched the three of them working.
“I think chefs are definitely at their sexiest when they’re standing in front of a workstation. Right, Emily?”
“Uh, yes. Right. ……What’s with that look?”
“Nothing. Just thinking that you seem to understand the appeal of chefs very well.”
Sera spoke while glancing towards Alan.
Emily coughed as though she had caught a cold, then pinched Sera in an attempt to stop her from looking at him.
“Ouch! What are you doing?”
“Shh. Be quiet. Are you going to keep pairing us up like that?”
“You did the same thing with Kaya and Minjoon…”
“That’s completely different!”
“It doesn’t look different…… Fine, fine. Stop making that face like you’re about to cry.”
“I’m not about to cry. I’m frustrated.”
Sera looked at Emily as though wondering whether there was any real difference.
If someone were asked what sort of expression Emily was making, what would they call it?
Emily deliberately looked away from Sera and towards the dining room.
There was no particular reason she had to, but perhaps because they had been filming together for so long, she had begun to feel as though they were all on the same team.
She found herself watching the expressions of the customers eating the linguine as though they were her own.
Fortunately, none of them frowned.
There were differences in how strongly they reacted, but all seemed satisfied. Some even closed their eyes, lingering over the flavour.
Emily smiled faintly.
“Rachel. This is nice. I think Minjoon will make a good disciple.”
“Yes. Of course.”
Rachel watched Jo Minjoon, Kaya, and Anderson.
Orders continued coming without pause, yet none of them panicked.
Some people might wonder what was so impressive about that.
But it was not so simple.
The number of pans was limited.
So was the number of burners available for cooking pasta.
When orders exceeded those physical limits, even experienced chefs could not help becoming shaken.
And once that happened, mistakes followed.
Mistakes delayed dishes.
That was one reason food could sometimes take so long to arrive even in famous restaurants.
Yet Jo Minjoon did not make a mistake.
Neither did Kaya or Anderson.
And it was not because this was not their restaurant, allowing them to remain detached.
If that were the case, their eyes would not be shining like that.
“Mm……”
Rachel opened her mouth, then closed it again for a moment.
She had not even noticed it herself, but her voice was wet.
Not with sadness.
With emotion.
Their burning youth and passion stirred something deep in both her heart and soul.
Rachel spoke again.
Her voice was still damp, but this time she made no attempt to hide it.
“Those children are really beautiful.”
“Beautiful……?”
Emily looked confused.
She could understand calling their concentration impressive or even striking, but beautiful seemed a little excessive.
Rachel, however, was completely serious.
“They aren’t mature yet, and there’s still a long road ahead of them. But they aren’t afraid. Not of the path they’ve chosen, and not of the orders piling up in front of them.”
“……Wouldn’t ‘composed’ be more accurate than ‘beautiful’?”
“Composed…… Perhaps. But could they really do this just by being composed? This is an unfamiliar place and an unfamiliar kitchen. They’re making an unfamiliar recipe among unfamiliar chefs. There were similar situations on Grand Chef, but this is different. Back then, people were there specifically to eat the contestants’ food. Here, these customers came because they expect professionals. And those three are standing there with young hands that still don’t even have wrinkles.”
Emily could not fully understand exactly what Rachel was trying to express, but she could clearly feel the emotion behind her words.
Even Sera, beside her, unconsciously nodded.
Rachel let the heat burning in her chest spill out through her words.
“It’s because they love it.”
At that moment, Sera’s eyes briefly moved towards Kaya and Jo Minjoon before returning to Rachel.
Surely she was not talking about that.
Rachel continued.
“They love cooking. They love the moment they’re cooking. That’s why they can overcome the pressure and fear.”
Rachel understood those three better than anyone else there.
Because once, she too had stood exactly where they were standing.
She smiled warmly.
“What customer could possibly fail to enjoy food made like that? They put that much love into it. Countries can change. Territories can change. But one thing never does.”
“What?”
“Food made with love is delicious.”
They were common words.
Yet perhaps because Rachel was the one saying them, they did not feel shallow at all.
She watched the three young chefs with affectionate eyes, almost as though looking at her own grandchildren.
“It’s a law of the kitchen that will never change.”