Chapter 42: The Role of a Head Chef (5)
Chapter 42: The Role of a Head Chef (5)
Only after the words had left his mouth did Jo Minjoon realise they sounded exactly like something a thirty-year-old man would say. Kaya, however, did not seem particularly bothered. She had grown up in a market and was already used to that sort of joke.
When Jo Minjoon grew increasingly awkward, unable to overcome his embarrassment, Kaya glared at him.
“There may not be cameras in the hallways, but there are cameras in the rooms. Don’t forget that.”
“Ahem. Anyway, what did you want to ask me?”
“I want to ask you something, but I don’t even know the basics. Just think of it as teaching a complete beginner.”
Jo Minjoon groaned. Although he had agreed to teach her, he was not particularly well versed in luxurious meals or formal full-course dining himself. Most of what he knew had come from things he had picked up on the internet or from his own limited experience.
He began explaining slowly in a lowered voice. At times, Kaya looked dumbfounded; at others, she frowned. Aside from ordinary responses such as “Yes” or “I understand,” the only time she interrupted him with a question was when he explained guéridon service.
(Translator’s Note: Guéridon service — French guéridon, “small side table” — A formal style of tableside restaurant service in which food is carved, portioned, flambéed, sauced, or otherwise finished beside the diners using a trolley or side table. It became strongly associated with European luxury hotels and fine-dining restaurants during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.)
“So I can think of it as cart service, right?”
“Yes. Basically, you bring out a dish that’s almost finished and complete it in front of the customer.”
“But wouldn’t we be short on manpower then?”
“We need people serving the food anyway. We’d have to finish the main dishes completely in the kitchen, but things like desserts or soup can be prepared in advance.”
“...Hmm.”
The conversation continued in that fashion. Of course, they could not stay away too long after claiming they were going to the bathroom, but that did not mean they ended the discussion immediately either.
After about ten minutes, Kaya and Jo Minjoon returned to the others.
“Did your trip to the bathroom go well?” Chloe asked.
“Fortunately, I survived.”
Jo Minjoon answered with a weak laugh, and several of their teammates chuckled as they looked between the two of them. They could more or less guess that Kaya had used the bathroom as an excuse to drag Minjoon away for a lesson, but there was no need to point it out and embarrass her. Watching the two of them act like this was entertaining enough on its own.
Joanne twirled a strand of blonde hair around her finger and spoke. “While you two were in the bathroom, we organised our thoughts a bit. For the main dishes, we’re thinking sea bass, turkey, and osso buco.”
(Translator’s Note: Osso buco (bone with a hole) — A Lombard dish made from cross-cut veal shanks slowly braised until tender, leaving the marrow-filled bone at the centre. It is particularly associated with Milan and was established as a recognised Milanese speciality by the nineteenth century.)
“Other than osso buco, those are all familiar ingredients.”
“We can’t exactly cook with ingredients people aren’t familiar with. And it’s not as though we’re serving only food critics. We’ll have customers from different social backgrounds, so I don’t think presenting them with unfamiliar dishes would be a good idea. Of course, the final decision belongs to the head chef.”
“I don’t have any objections. All of you decided on this together, right?” Kaya said that while glancing towards the upper right, as though something had just occurred to her. After a brief pause, she continued, “Deridong... No, guéridon service. I think it would be good to do that. If there are forty people, that should mean at least ten tables... Ah, but are all forty people going to be customers for both the Blue Team and the Red Team?”
Kaya frowned, and Chloe suddenly clapped her hands as if she had remembered something. “Come to think of it, I already asked the PD about that. From what he said, it sounds like they’ll be eating both teams’ course meals.”
(Translator’s Note: PD —A standard South Korean broadcasting term for the producer or production director responsible for planning, organising, and often directing a television programme. The English abbreviation became firmly embedded in Korean broadcasting vocabulary during the development of the country’s modern television industry in the latter half of the twentieth century.)
“...They’re going to be eating an enormous amount of food, then.”
“Ah, no, that’s not what I mean. They’re going to split it up. In the afternoon, they’ll eat one team’s course for lunch, and at night, they’ll eat the other team’s dishes.”
“You should have explained that earlier.”
Kaya grumbled, but Jo Minjoon could understand why Chloe had not mentioned it sooner. This was a television programme, after all. They could not explain every minor detail on camera.
At that moment, Hugo handed Kaya a sheet of paper.
She flinched slightly before accepting it with a tense expression. “It’s the recipe we put together,” Hugo said. “Take a look.”
Jo Minjoon leaned over beside Kaya to inspect it as well. Considering how quickly they had put it together, it was not completely terrible. There was at least some structure to it. However, the moment he read through the written recipe, the average cooking score and composition score appeared in front of him just as they had before.
Cooking score: 6.
Composition score: 5.
Jo Minjoon’s expression darkened.
“It’s not good.”
The one who spoke first was not Minjoon, but Kaya. She frowned as she continued, “Even putting aside the order of the dishes, the recipes themselves aren’t good enough. Honestly, just looking at them makes me lose my appetite. Do you want the customers sending the food back?”
Normally, Jo Minjoon might have stepped in to restrain Kaya, but this time he agreed with her. Even accounting for the fact that they had put everything together in a hurry, the recipes were poor.
Kaya continued, “It already gets strange with the main dishes. Roasted turkey with homemade mustard? Do you really think customers are going to come here for a luxurious three-minute dish? God. Oh my God. Who came up with this?”
At Kaya’s question, a short man slowly raised his hand. Peter Gray. He was Indian American.
Kaya turned a sharp gaze on him. “What exactly are you trying to do? Do you really think you can accomplish anything with a dish this simple? If you’re going to approach the main course like this, then step aside and let someone else do it. Just—” Her voice began to rise.
Chloe, standing beside her, looked increasingly worried and was about to intervene when Peter’s low voice cut across her.
“Isn’t this still better than the kind of food you used to eat?”
“...What did you say?”
“They say you came from the ghetto. No, you really are from the ghetto. You barely even went to middle school before dropping out. Don’t you think it’s a little ridiculous to act like some great food critic or chef when that’s the kind of life you’ve lived?”
The atmosphere froze instantly. Kaya stared at Peter without expression—or rather, she appeared expressionless, but the muscles in her face were twitching so badly that she looked ready to explode at any moment. Her distinctive husky voice came out low and cold.
“So what? You’re telling me not to touch your poverty-level recipe?”
“Poverty-level recipe? I wonder. I don’t really know what it means to be poor, but I suppose you do. After all, you’re poor, so—”
“You son of a bitch...!” Kaya shot to her feet with a curse.
Chloe, who had been standing beside her unsure what to do, jumped in surprise and grabbed Kaya around the waist. It was a good decision. If she had been even a second slower, Kaya would probably have lunged forward and planted her fist in Peter’s face.
Peter looked at Kaya struggling in Chloe’s grip and continued speaking with an irritatingly composed expression. “Even if you’re poor, I suppose you don’t like hearing people say it. Sorry. I apologise.”
“Hey, that’s too much.”
“Cut it out.”
The other teammates, unable to watch any longer, began trying to stop Peter. Kaya’s face looked almost demonic as she hurled every curse she could think of at him, some of them so furious they were barely comprehensible, while Peter merely watched her with a relaxed expression.
Then, from somewhere amid the commotion, a low voice emerged. “Fucking shit.”
At first, everyone simply followed the sound without thinking. A moment later, realising what they had heard, they turned their heads in disbelief. It was Jo Minjoon. The usually calm and composed Jo Minjoon had actually cursed out loud.
Even Kaya stopped swearing at Peter and turned towards him. That alone showed how unexpected it was. Minjoon did not falter under the sudden attention. Instead, one eye twitching slightly, he looked back and forth between Kaya and Peter.
“What the hell are the two of you trying to do? No, what did you even come here for? You came here to cook. So why are you wasting the same mouths you use to taste food on this kind of nonsense?”
“It’s not like I’m the one talking nonsense. He’s the one saying I’m poor and—”
“It’s true that Peter said something filthy. But were you speaking any better? Why do you always have to talk like you’re attacking someone? You know perfectly well you’re going to clash with people when you act like that. Even after the mess you caused when you teamed up with Anderson, you still haven’t got a grip on yourself?”
Kaya fell silent and stared at Jo Minjoon, her eyes trembling. His words shocked her far more than Peter’s had. When had it become like this? When had she started assuming Jo Minjoon would naturally take her side?
Peter, who had been quietly watching the situation, took the opportunity to speak. “Yeah. My words were harsh, but honestly, if she hadn’t started picking a fight with me—”
“You too. Don’t start trying to frame it like that. You’re not the victim here. What the hell were you doing attacking her personally just because your recipe got criticised? How old are you? Twenty-three? Twenty-four? You’re older than me. So what are you doing talking like that to someone who isn’t even twenty yet? ‘Poor’? Is that really something you should be saying?”
There were hardly any actual curses mixed into his words, yet his voice somehow sounded as though it contained every insult imaginable. Peter looked as though he wanted to argue, but there was not much he could say. Jo Minjoon was right, and he could feel the eyes of the rest of the team on him.
Kaya could not find anything to say either. It was not as though she did nothing except act immaturely and stubbornly. She understood why Jo Minjoon was angry, and considering how much she already owed him, she was in no position to argue back. That did not make the hurt go away, though. Perhaps if Chloe had not been holding Kaya tightly around the shoulders, Kaya might actually have cried. Although, because Kaya was nearly a handspan taller than Chloe, it somehow looked less as though Chloe was holding Kaya and more as though Kaya was holding Chloe.
Jo Minjoon let out a deep sigh before lowering his voice. “Get a grip, both of you. You’re old enough to know better. You’re not children. Do I—no, do we really have to look after you to the point of changing your nappies?”
They were harsh words, but neither Kaya nor Peter could complain that he was being too harsh. They had no right to.
Jo Minjoon continued, “And for what it’s worth, I think the recipe is lacking too. Didn’t you put it together too carelessly because you weren’t focusing on each dish individually? I don’t think mustard and roast turkey are a bad combination, but it’s too weak for a luxurious course meal. Kaya may have gone too far with the way she said it, but the problems she pointed out were real.”
No one answered. In the awkward silence, Jo Minjoon sighed inwardly. He had not wanted to act like this. Still, he felt that if he simply left Kaya and Peter alone, the entire team would fall apart. And among everyone there, Minjoon was probably the only person who could intervene. Kaya would not have accepted it this quietly from just anyone. At least when the criticism came from Jo Minjoon, someone she already viewed favourably, he could still rein her in.
“Let’s not create personal grudges within the team. We came here to cook, and tomorrow we’re going to be serving customers. This will be the first time I’ve served actual customers as a chef. I’m looking forward to it, and I’m nervous too. I think all of you probably feel the same way, don’t you? So at the very least, let’s not end up serving food filled with our own resentment.”
After saying that much, Jo Minjoon took a breath. Kaya and Peter seemed to have calmed down somewhat and were now sitting in their places, both wearing sullen expressions.
Minjoon glanced towards the camera installed in one corner of the room. He could already imagine how much Martin would enjoy this scene. Whatever happens, that old man is the one who profits the most. The thought of Martin grinning to himself only made him more irritating, and Jo Minjoon sighed as he leaned back against the sofa.
Chloe glanced around at the rest of the team before leaning towards Minjoon and whispering, “What are we going to do? I think I’m going to die from the awkwardness.”
“I. Don’t. Know.” Jo Minjoon whispered each word separately into Chloe’s ear.
She shivered as though it tickled, then abruptly stood up and shouted, “First, let’s eat dinner!”
“...But it’s only three-thirty.”
“That’s fine. We can make something that takes a long time to cook and just eat dinner a little early.” Chloe smiled brightly at the others. “Has anyone ever died from eating dinner early?”