Chapter 47: Unexpected Fame (4)
Chapter 47: Unexpected Fame (4)
The atmosphere turned cold. Perhaps everyone had been stunned by Kaya’s barrage of curses, or perhaps they agreed that she had every right to be furious. Either way, no one on the Blue Team said a word. The Red Team, meanwhile, watched Kaya and whispered among themselves.
Alan was no different. As the judge responsible for observing the kitchen, he understood Kaya’s anger perfectly well. The real question was what came next. After exploding like that, how would she lead her teammate? Alan watched the Blue Team with an increasingly serious expression.
Kaya took several harsh, deep breaths. Peter said nothing and simply stared down at the chopping board.
He was angry.
At Kaya, and at himself.
Grand Chef was an opportunity for him too, the sort of opportunity that might only come a few times in a lifetime. And now, that opportunity seemed to be slipping out of his grasp. There was no way he could remain calm.
But he could not shout back at Kaya either. The responsibility for this disaster lay with him, and Peter was not stupid enough to pretend otherwise.
“...I’m sorry.” His voice was dejected.
Kaya had clearly been prepared to start another round if he argued back, but at his apology, she finally shut her mouth and glared at him instead. After a long moment, she turned away and looked towards Hugo.
“Hugo. You can’t serve the osso buco early, can you?”
“Are you kidding? Even if everything goes perfectly from here, I still need at least another twenty minutes before the flavour develops properly. There’s absolutely no way I can serve it now.”
“...Then I have to decide here. Either we cut the middle main course entirely, or we find a way to replace it.”
Kaya turned back to Peter. He remained silent, his gaze still lowered.
“What are you going to do? Decide quickly. We barely have any time. Fifteen minutes is probably the latest we can afford to be. Think of something you can make within that time.”
“Wait... Just wait.”
Kaya sighed. “Minjoon, you think too. If neither of you can come up with anything, we’ll have no choice but to skip the course.”
“I’m thinking.” Jo Minjoon closed his eyes and concentrated.
In the darkness behind his eyelids, the system windows were easier to see. Somewhere along the way, closing his eyes while designing a recipe had become a habit.
There was another problem besides the burnt chicken. Even if Peter’s tandoori chicken breast had been cooked perfectly, the dish itself had never fit the flow of the menu very well. The heavily spiced masala was strong enough to overwhelm the palate and dull the flavour of the osso buco that followed.
Peter had suggested serving a salad afterwards to cleanse the palate, but Minjoon had opposed the idea. The composition score the system had shown him was only six, which was hardly impressive, and he was convinced the tandoori chicken breast was the main reason.
Peter had been stubborn then, so Minjoon had eventually let the matter go. Under the current circumstances, though, there was finally room to change the menu completely.
Unfortunately, there was no time to design something elaborate. Minjoon ran through recipe after recipe in his head, but none of them scored higher than six. That was inevitable. They had only fifteen minutes. Coming up with a dish that could be cooked within that time, tasted good, and did not interfere with the osso buco afterwards was anything but easy.
“What about mixing mozzarella with fresh avocado and serving it with a simple chicken steak?” someone suggested.
“It’ll be too heavy. Better to...” Minjoon stopped.
The recipe forming in his head only had a composition score of six. But if the cooking went well, he might still be able to push the finished dish to seven.
He opened his eyes.
“To be honest, there’s nothing particularly special about this dish. But it shouldn’t disrupt the flow of the course. First, sear the chicken in olive oil. Then sauté some shallots in the same oil. After that, we make a creamy cheese sauce with tarragon, lemon juice, herbs, and goat’s cheese. The herbs and lemon juice should cut through the richness, so it shouldn’t feel too heavy.”
“Good. What about the garnish?”
“That... What was it? Damn it, I can’t remember.” Minjoon frowned, then snapped his fingers. “Right. The salad Peter already prepared. We can just serve that on the side. Do you think that’ll work?”
“Good. Peter, you understood, right?”
At Kaya’s sharp question, Peter merely nodded, his face stiff. It was difficult for him to complain about anything now.
Kaya quickly scanned the kitchen. Carlos had finished the bread some time ago and was still serving customers in the dining room. Chloe was there as well, while everyone else besides Minjoon and Peter was occupied with their own dishes. Realistically, the only people available to save the chicken course were the three of them.
Kaya’s expression hardened.
“Let’s use chicken tenderloins instead of breasts. We’ll sear them whole and serve them with Minjoon’s sauce. What are you standing around for? Get the pans on the heat! Minjoon, help.”
“I’ll handle the sauce. You and Peter take care of the tenderloins. Will that work?”
“Yes. Understood.”
The moment Peter answered, Minjoon began gathering ingredients.
He started with the shallots. Originally, he had wanted to sauté them in the oil left behind from searing the chicken, but they no longer had time to wait for that.
He cooked the shallots until soft, then added the herbs, goat’s cheese, lemon juice, and tarragon. As the cheese melted, its rich aroma rose from the pan. Some people found that smell appetising, but after inhaling it for too long, Minjoon found it increasingly cloying.
Fortunately, the sharpness of the lemon juice and the aroma of the tarragon cut through the cheese. The customers would not have the same problem anyway. They would smell the dish only briefly before eating it.
“Kaya. Are the tenderloins done?”
“Almost. What about the sauce?”
“Finished. How do you want it plated? Spread on the plate, or spooned over the tenderloin?”
“Obviously over the top. Give me a second. They’re almost ready.”
Kaya answered while managing the frying pans around her. She looked extremely busy, which was hardly surprising. She was controlling four pans by herself, while Peter stood beside her, sweating as he turned his tenderloins.
Minjoon moved towards Peter rather than Kaya. Kaya looked capable of handling herself, but Peter made him uneasy. His concentration had already been shaken once, and Minjoon could not stop worrying that he might make another serious mistake.
Fortunately, nothing happened.
Peter’s chicken tenderloins were almost perfectly seared. Minjoon could not judge the seasoning just by looking, but the colour on the outside was excellent—not too dark, not too pale.
Minjoon looked up. “Want me to get the plates?”
“...Thanks.”
“Give me a second.”
He brought the plates over and lined them up on the workstation. For a moment, he considered placing the salad beneath the chicken, then immediately dismissed the idea. The salad already had an Asian-style dressing on it. If that dressing mixed with the cheese sauce, the result was something he did not even want to imagine.
By the time Minjoon had nearly finished arranging the salads, Chloe came back into the kitchen pushing her trolley.
She stopped in confusion. “Huh? Wasn’t the next dish supposed to be tandoori chicken?”
“It burned. We had to change the dish at the last minute.”
“...That must’ve been rough.” Chloe looked towards Peter. “Are you okay?”
Minjoon could not help being impressed.
Most people would have been angry first. Yet in that brief moment, Chloe’s first reaction had been concern for Peter. It made her seem genuinely beautiful.
Whoever marries Chloe is going to be happy for the rest of his life.
Even life’s hardships probably would not feel like hardships beside someone like her. Peter himself was already giving Chloe an awkward, sheepish smile.
Then Kaya spoke. “Chloe. Those plates on your trolley... Those aren’t from the sea bass, are they?”
“Why wouldn’t they be? Thankfully, everyone finished everything. They even wiped up all the sauce.”
“...I’m going insane. Doesn’t that mean the tables are empty right now?”
Kaya’s hands moved even faster as she placed the tenderloins onto the plates. Chloe calmly stepped in to help her, while Minjoon spooned the cheese sauce over each piece of chicken.
Kaya let out a breath and straightened. “Peter. Come with me. It’s your dish, so you should explain it.”
“...Understood.”
The two of them left with the trolleys.
Jo Minjoon stood near the dining-room entrance and watched. The customers’ reactions were not as bad as he had feared. Emily’s, however, was noticeably cold. She ate only a few bites before setting down her fork. There was still a smile on her face, but she clearly was not satisfied.
That could not really be helped. Even with Kaya’s skill, she could not draw more out of a recipe that had been thrown together in minutes than the recipe itself allowed. On top of that, chicken tenderloin was not the easiest meat to handle under severe time pressure.
Fortunately, the osso buco that followed lifted the mood again.
And when Minjoon looked at it, even he was surprised.
The cooking score was eight.
Hugo’s cooking level was six.
Until now, Jo Minjoon had assumed that the highest possible score for someone at cooking level six was seven. That was simply what he had believed because he himself had only begun consistently producing seven-point dishes after reaching level six.
But apparently, that assumption had been wrong.
Hugo was undeniably level six, yet his osso buco had scored eight.
Minjoon did not have time to properly organise his thoughts about what that meant. The moment lunch ended, they had to begin preparing for dinner, and after another round of cooking and service, the time for judging arrived almost immediately.
Jo Minjoon looked towards the judges.
Emily was the first to speak. There was no trace of a smile on her face as she looked across the contestants.
“You did your best today, and I think what you showed us was the best you could manage under the circumstances. There were still weaknesses, but some of the dishes were excellent. Chloe. Hugo. Anderson. Marco. You four made me happiest today.”
Jo Minjoon was not especially discouraged that his name had not been called. It was disappointing, but he understood why. Every contestant Emily had named had produced an eight-point dish.
Chloe had made the sea bass. Hugo, the osso buco. Anderson had served steamed lobster, while Marco had made a tart filled with Chiboust cream.
(Translator’s Note: Chiboust cream — A pastry cream traditionally lightened with meringue and stabilised with gelatine. It is associated with the French pastry chef Chiboust and with the creation of the Saint-Honoré cake in Paris during the mid-nineteenth century, commonly dated to the 1840s.)
“There were exactly two from the Red Team and two from the Blue Team, which made the decision even harder. But I’ve decided.”
Emily looked at the chip in her hand.
In front of her sat two boxes, one red and one blue, which would also hold the votes of the forty customers.
Her hand moved towards the blue box.
“My vote goes to the Blue Team. Overall, I thought the two teams’ courses were similarly satisfying. But out of those four standout dishes, the one I personally enjoyed most was the osso buco. And the server who made me feel the most comfortable was Chloe.” Emily turned towards her. “Chloe, I think your smile is a precious gift, not only as a chef but as a person. If you ever open your own restaurant and still have that same smile by then, I think I’d become a regular customer.”
“Th-thank you.” Chloe could not hide her embarrassment or happiness, and a bright smile spread across her face.
Emily smiled teasingly and pointed at her. “But that smile is still a little timid. Be more confident, Chloe. You’re an excellent chef. Regardless of how this competition ends, I’m already your fan. Remember that. Restaurants loved by food critics tend to do well.”
“Yes!” Chloe clenched both fists and answered loudly.
Emily smiled and stepped back.
Joseph moved forward next.
Without a moment’s hesitation, he dropped his chip into the red box.
It happened so quickly that not only the contestants but even some members of the production crew looked startled.
Joseph spoke calmly. “I’m not going to make a show out of my vote. In any case, the judges’ votes matter far less than the forty-three votes overall. The reason I chose the Red Team is simple: I enjoyed their food more than the Blue Team’s.”
He looked towards Marco. “Especially you, Marco. Your tart was perfect. I’m convinced that you are the strongest baker among the contestants here. I want to tell you the same thing Emily told Chloe. Have confidence in yourself. A little pride would be good too, because your tart was the deciding factor behind my vote for the Red Team.”
Marco could not answer.
His large eyes were already full of tears, and he was sniffling. Anderson, standing beside him, hesitated before awkwardly patting him on the back.
Joseph stepped away.
Now it was Alan’s turn.
His voice was as cold and severe as ever.
“I don’t know about what ended up on the plates, but watching you in the kitchen today was quite a spectacle. Some of you were stupider and noisier than monkeys, and one team even changed a recipe halfway through service. What I’m judging today isn’t just the food. I’m judging what happened with your knives, chopping boards, and frying pans.”
No one answered.
Peter, in particular, had lowered his head, his face pale. There was little else he could do.
Alan raised his voting chip.
“The Red Team knows this as well as anyone. The Blue Team did something extremely foolish today. Kaya, answer me as the head chef. What does changing a recipe mean?”
“...It means the food changes.”
“Close, but not quite. It means the order changes.” Alan’s gaze hardened. “Today, fortunately, this wasn’t an individual order. It was a predetermined menu. But in another situation, you might not get paid at all, and even if the customer cursed you out, you would have nothing to say in your defence. Chloe’s smile? Service? What does any of that matter if you fail at the most basic thing of all—cooking?”
Kaya lowered her head without answering.
She had no intention of pushing all the blame onto Peter. Peter had made the mistake, but she had failed to catch it in time. As head chef, part of the responsibility was hers.
Alan slowly lowered his chip into the red box.
“The reason I’m voting for the Red Team today isn’t because they were outstanding. It’s because the Blue Team made a serious mistake. Remember that. Food is made in the kitchen, and if the process is careless, the result will be careless too.” His expression remained cold. “Be perfect. You are the doctors, and the ingredients are your patients. You must be more precise than anyone else, because customers are not paying you in the hope that you won’t make a mistake.”
Peter bit his lip.
Every word seemed to strike him like an arrow.
Alan looked at him for a moment, then fell silent and stepped back.
Joseph sighed. As the sound faded through the room, his voice rang out again.
“We’ll begin counting the votes.”