Chapter 35: A Dish Made by a Chef (3)
Chapter 35: A Dish Made by a Chef (3)
First, Jo Minjoon poured sesame oil over the rice, then mixed gochujang and doenjang in a one-to-one ratio and stirred the mixture into the rice. This was one of the things that distinguished different styles of Korean bibimbap: whether the sauce was mixed into the rice beforehand, served separately, or sometimes used as a garnish.
(Translator’s Note: Gochujang —Korean fermented red chilli paste traditionally made with chilli powder, grain, fermented soybean material, and salt. Its recognisably modern form developed after chilli peppers reached Korea in the late sixteenth to seventeenth century.)
There was a reason Jo Jo Minjoonse to mix the sauce in advance. First, this was a competition. If he left the seasoning entirely up to the judges, he had no idea what kind of criticism he might receive. More importantly, Jo Minjoon did not particularly like serving gochujang or sesame oil separately with a Korean dish. He believed that a restaurant chef should complete a dish with his own hands. If the customer had to finish it themselves, then there was no point. That was Jo Minjoon’s way of thinking.
The second reason was appearance. When the sauce was mixed at the table, the vegetables or meat arranged as garnish often became torn and crumpled. To Jo Minjoon, the resulting mess was enough to make the food look less appetising.
After placing the steaming bibimbap in a small bowl, Jo Minjoon set it in the centre of a larger, flatter plate. Around the bowl, he arranged the various garnishes like flower petals, then placed an egg yolk on top of the rice to finish it.
Jo Minjoon looked at the bibimbap.
[Bibimbap]
Freshness: 94%
Origins: (Too many ingredients to display)
Quality: High (Average ingredients)
Cooking Score: 6/10
Six points. Just as he had expected.
Jo Minjoon did not waver. He checked the time. Seventeen minutes remained, which was more than enough to make the gamjajeon.
He picked up several potatoes and began grating them. After placing the grated potato in a sieve to drain off the excess moisture, he chopped some chives and red chilli.
This was also the reason he could no longer call the meal proper temple cuisine.
There were five pungent vegetables traditionally prohibited in Buddhist temple food: chives, Korean wild chives, spring onions, garlic, and heunggeo. Jo Minjoon had already used two of them. Garlic had gone into the miyeokguk, while chives were going into the gamjajeon. Of course, the mission was not specifically about temple cuisine, so there was no reason to worry about adhering to those restrictions. What mattered now was flavour and nutrition.
(Translator’s Note: Five pungent vegetables —Five strongly flavoured plants traditionally prohibited in Korean Buddhist monastic cuisine because they are considered stimulating and contrary to disciplined religious practice. Korean lists commonly include garlic, spring onions, chives, Korean wild chives, and heunggeo. The restriction derives from older East Asian Buddhist dietary traditions.)
Jo Minjoon added flour to the grated potatoes, mixed in the chives and red chilli, then spooned the mixture into a hot frying pan. He needed to use only a moderate amount of oil. Too much, and not only the edges but the centre as well would become overly crisp, almost like a biscuit, losing the soft, sticky texture that made gamjajeon appealing.
But he could not use too little oil either, or the pancake would stick to the pan and fall apart.
Fortunately, Jo Minjoon cooked it better than he ever had before.
[Chive Gamjajeon]
Freshness: 92%
Origins: (Too many ingredients to display)
Quality: High (Average ingredients)
Cooking Score: 6/10
Six points again.
Jo Minjoon’s eye twitched.
Less than two minutes remained. He ladled the miyeokguk into a bowl. Westerners were not particularly familiar with ingredients such as seaweed, but as judges on a cooking programme, they could hardly refuse to try it. Just in case, he sprinkled a little extra perilla-seed powder over the soup at the last moment. Perilla was another ingredient that might be unfamiliar to Western palates, but it would help bring out the flavour of the miyeokguk.
Jo Minjoon arranged everything on a tray: perilla-seed miyeokguk, chive gamjajeon, cabbage rolls, and bibimbap.
Then something unexpected happened.
The status windows hovering above the dishes flickered, and a larger, clearer window appeared over the entire tray. Jo Minjoon stared at it in bewilderment. A moment later, another message appeared before his eyes.
[You have created a harmonious Korean table meal. Its composition follows a unified theme.]
[A new function, ‘Composition Score’, which allows multiple dishes to be evaluated together, has been added.]
[Mastery of the skill ‘Understanding of Korean Cuisine’ has increased.]
[Would you like to check the Composition Score?]
Yes / No
Jo Minjoon continued staring in confusion. Before he could properly process what he was seeing, another window appeared.
[Jo Minjoon’s Vegetarian Korean Meal]
Menu: Bibimbap, perilla-seed miyeokguk, cabbage rolls, chive gamjajeon
Average Cooking Score: 6/10
Composition Score: 7/10
Evaluation: A meal designed for vegetarians. Its graceful plating and clean flavours make it a light and comfortable meal to eat.
Jo Minjoon’s eye twitched again. A new function had appeared.
Before he could even decide how he felt about it, the buzzer sounded, followed by Alan’s voice.
“Everyone, hands off! Time is over!”
Alan looked over the contestants without expression.
Jo Minjoon swallowed.
The die had been cast. Could this meal, made entirely according to his own instincts, move the judges?
He glanced around at the other contestants. There were all kinds of dishes: ratatouille, lasagne, Cuban sandwiches, and more.
(Translator’s Note:Ratatouille — A classic Provençal vegetable stew from the South of France, specifically the region around Nice . The dish typically consists of eggplants (aubergines), zucchinis (courgettes), bell peppers, tomatoes, onions, and garlic, cooked slowly in olive oil and flavoured with herbes de Provence)
(Translator’s Note: Lasagne — Wide, flat pasta sheets also used in layered baked dishes. Related layered pasta preparations are documented in Italy from at least the Middle Ages)
Thump.
He could clearly feel his heart pounding.
Jo Minjoon licked his lips, but it did nothing to ease his nervousness. Until now, the reason he had been able to remain calm during judging was because he trusted the cooking scores. But he had learned that those scores were not absolute, and every individual dish on his tray was only worth 6 points.
Right now, the only thing he could trust was himself.
Perhaps this would be the first time he was truly being judged on his own cooking.
Jo Minjoon looked nervously towards Alan. The moment their eyes seemed to meet, Alan spoke.
“We’ll begin the judging. Starting with the front row.”
Jo Minjoon was in the second row. The two contestants in front of him carried their dishes towards the judges. One of them was Chloe.
Jo Minjoon examined her dish closely.
Cooking Score: 8.
It was the highest score Chloe could currently achieve.
Her dish consisted of fried wheat noodles accompanied by bok choy and bamboo shoots. A pale brown sauce, apparently made with soy sauce and citron, sat beneath the noodles, while a half-fried egg had been placed in the centre as decoration. Just looking at it made the dish seem delicious.
It looked relatively simple, but it was actually difficult to prepare. Frying an egg while keeping the yolk runny required skill, and the fried wheat noodles themselves demanded careful control. The noodles had to be fried enough to develop flavour without burning, while still retaining the right chewy texture. One small mistake could turn the entire dish from food into rubbish.
Alan lifted his fork and broke open the egg. The thin fried exterior split apart with the white, and the runny yolk poured over the noodles like orange syrup. Even the contestants watching from a distance swallowed at the sight.
Chloe did too. It had been a long time since something she had made looked this appetising even to herself.
Alan coated the noodles and bok choy in the yolk and brought them to his mouth. The first flavours to spread across his tongue were citron and soy sauce. The strong citrus aroma sharpened and carried the saltiness of the soy sauce, but as he bit into the bok choy, the citron receded and was replaced by the vegetable’s fresh flavour. The noodles caught between the bok choy leaves carried the richness of oil and egg yolk.
Beautiful?
No. That word was too soft for this flavour.
It had charisma. It was primitive and provocative, the sort of bold flavour one could imagine a great general eating before going into battle.
Alan struggled to keep his expression composed, and the other two judges were no different. He was the first to speak.
“Chloe. I enjoyed that.”
Chloe did not answer immediately and merely gave an awkward laugh. Her nervousness was obvious.
Alan asked calmly, “Is this your first time making this dish?”
“No. It’s something my mother used to make for me all the time. Although the half-fried egg with the runny yolk is my addition. My mother used to serve it with a soft-cooked yolk instead.”
“…Your mother clearly has a deep understanding of cooking.”
“Of course. Even now, I’ve never eaten anything more delicious than my mother’s cooking.”
“Then do you think you executed your mother’s recipe well?”
At those words, Chloe hesitated. “Mm… I already told you this was my mother’s recipe, right? And after tasting it, you said my mother must understand cooking really well. That means you think the dish was good… No, at least that means the recipe was good. And if you think the recipe is good, then the dish itself also has to be…”
“Stop.”
As Chloe’s explanation grew longer and more tangled, Alan cut her off.
Chloe stopped talking and stared at him, lightly tapping the floor with the front of her foot.
Alan continued, “I’ll get straight to the point. It was a good dish, Chloe. More importantly, it was delicious. You made excellent use of the characteristics of fried wheat noodles. In particular, the combination of citron and soy sauce worked very well.”
“I agree,” Emily added. “I didn’t expect to enjoy a dish I’d never tried before this much. I enjoyed it. It was very good.”
Chloe’s face brightened as she turned towards Joseph. Two of the three judges had already praised the dish. More than half of them had said it was delicious, which meant she was almost certainly safe from elimination.
Joseph smiled warmly. “I enjoyed it, Chloe. You pass.”
“Thank you!” Chloe cried out happily and headed upstairs.
The positive atmosphere did not last long.
The contestant beside her presented a baguette sandwich filled with cucumber, tomato, cheddar, and fried potato.
It was edible, but there was nothing particularly special about it. The judges’ expressions made their thoughts obvious. They each took a bite and began chewing. After struggling with his mouthful for a while, Alan eventually spat it into a bin.
What followed was a stream of criticism.
Too ordinary. It made them wonder how the contestant had survived this long. Had he genuinely believed a dish like this would receive a good evaluation?
They said many things, but the conclusion was simple.
“Jamie. You’re one of the candidates for elimination. Return to your place.”
Then it was Jo Minjoon’s turn.
Alan raised his voice.
“Jo Minjoon. Helena. Bring your dishes forward.”
Jo Minjoon approached with his tray in both hands. He was evaluated first.
The judges gathered around him, and Alan looked down at the soup.
“Is this… miyeokguk?”
“Yes. I boiled it with perilla seeds.”
“I’ve had miyeokguk before, but never one made with perilla seeds. How should I eat all of this?”
“You can eat it however you like.”
“These are all dishes eaten in Korea, right?”
“Yes. I adapted them somewhat from temple cuisine.”
The judges began with the miyeokguk. Next came the bibimbap, followed by the cabbage rolls and finally the gamjajeon.
Emily let out a long sigh.
“This… is difficult.”
“I agree.”
Alan nodded and looked towards Jo Minjoon.
Jo Minjoon could not tell what they meant by difficult. Was the flavour difficult to accept? Or was the meal difficult to evaluate?
After hesitating for a moment, Joseph finally spoke.
“Minjoon, we need to discuss this. Please step back.”
Jo Minjoon said nothing and moved about five steps away.
Emily immediately lowered her voice. “What do you think?”
“…It was delicious.”
“It was delicious to me too. For an ordinary diner, the flavours might seem unfamiliar rather than appealing, but I liked them.”
“It was well executed. I haven’t had much exposure to Korean temple cuisine, but the character of Korean food was clearly present. But…” Alan trailed off.
(Translator’s Note: Korean temple cuisine — The plant-centred culinary tradition of Korean Buddhist temples. Buddhism became established on the Korean Peninsula during the Three Kingdoms period, beginning in the fourth century, and temple food developed alongside Korean monastic practice. It traditionally excludes meat and also avoids certain pungent vegetables.)
Emily understood why he was hesitating. Joseph spoke with regret in his voice.
“There’s no main dish.”
“…Yes. Exactly.”
That was the problem.
What the judges were concerned about was neither the score Jo Minjoon had worried over nor the unfamiliar flavours. It was simply the absence of a clear main dish.
They could have called the bibimbap the main, but its flavour was too mild to carry the entire meal by itself.
Alan looked towards the dishes again.
“If this were a family meal, it would be almost perfect. Every side dish tastes good, and the harmony between them is excellent. However…” He stopped and sighed.
Perhaps if Jo Minjoon had presented the bibimbap by itself, they might have evaluated it more highly. Its flavour was good, and its composition was sound.
But by presenting several dishes together, he had revealed a weakness in the completeness of the meal as a whole. Every dish existed at roughly the same level, with nothing strong enough to stimulate the palate or give the meal a clear centre. The flavours were extremely gentle, almost as though each dish had been designed specifically not to interfere with the others.
Of course, that also showed how well he understood every dish he had prepared.
But…
It’s weak.
Alan’s gaze sharpened.
The judges continued discussing the meal, exchanging their opinions until they finally reached a conclusion.
“Minjoon. Come here.”
Joseph called him forward.
Jo Minjoon approached with an uneasy expression, while Joseph gave him a small smile.
“Personally, I think this is the most delicious food you’ve made so far. But the problem isn’t the flavour. It’s the intention behind it. Until now, your catfish meatball stew and your sea bream were both delicious, but your ambition was obvious in those dishes. Of course, that’s only natural. You’re a contestant. You want to survive, and you cook accordingly.”
Joseph paused and glanced towards the other judges before continuing.
“Emily, Alan, and I all feel the same way. What you made this time was very warm. It didn’t feel greedy. It felt as though you simply wanted to make a delicious, comforting meal. Put positively, it felt like food prepared by a mother. Put negatively, it felt less like restaurant food and more like something served at home.”
Jo Minjoon said nothing. He simply listened carefully.
Joseph sighed. It was obvious that he found the decision difficult.
“That’s why all I can say is that I’m sorry. It was genuinely good food. But we aren’t customers. We’re judges, and we can’t judge you on your intentions alone. Minjoon…”
Joseph looked directly at him.
Jo Minjoon slowly closed his eyes. He could already guess what was coming.
And his guess was correct.
“I’m sorry. You’re a candidate for elimination.”