Chapter 556: Cogwheels (3)
Chapter 556: Cogwheels (3)
Peter wanted revenge. He aimed to retaliate against those who viewed him with prejudice, to kick the asses of those who criticised him with half-baked assumptions and the tacit silence of the majority. He wanted to show them how vulgar and baseless their past accusations had been.
Yeah, that’s enough.
By then, he could no longer make his life shine or be beautiful. He couldn’t pursue the path that once earned admiration or respect.
He wrestled with his choices, moving repeatedly between ideal and reality, since he wasn’t smart enough to find an easy solution.
Finally, he chose revenge. He could no longer break free from the loser label or shake off the idiot’s image. So instead, he decided to pull those critics into the same pit. He wanted them to bear the yoke they forced on him.
He stopped fearing people’s looks, recognising their perceptions’ baseness. He was too tired to be swayed by their nasty, misguided prejudices.
“Alright. I look forward to your great cooking, Peter,” Minjoon said calmly and passed by.
Peter bit his lip. He hated Minjoon but envied and respected this great Korean chef. He admired Minjoon’s calmness. Though he suffered under Minjoon’s harsh standards, he held absolute respect.
But...
He gripped his knife tighter.
Minjoon headed after Peter to Michael Ohr, the Harvard physics professor. Like many, Minjoon was intrigued by the eccentric man who ranked among the world’s top chefs.
Though he didn’t know much, Minjoon recalled Michael had built a restaurant using centrifuges, blending laboratory and kitchen—a shock to the culinary world.
In a way, he must love cooking more than anyone else here.
But his cooking was ambiguous. Minjoon wasn’t sure whether Michael loved cooking or experimenting.
He remembered Michael saying once, “Cooking and science are inseparable. Even when people say food is all about the feel, there’s science behind it.”
Minjoon agreed. Cooking, big or small, obeyed scientific laws. After all, they cooked in this world—they couldn’t escape its laws.
“Ah, Minjoon, welcome!” Michael greeted with a smile, relaxed and unashamed. He didn’t care about winning.
Joseph had said some chefs joined for memories, not titles. Michael was one, yet paradoxically also the most likely winner.
This guy is a culinary monster beyond Kaya’s league.
Minjoon checked Michael’s stats:
[Michael Ohr]
Cooking Level: 7
Baking Level: 7
Gastronomic Level: 9
Decoration Level: 3
His stats rivalled Anderson’s, except his decoration was notably poor.
His plating was bad—worse than ‘bad.’ A physicist, he seemed emotionally detached from aesthetics. This flaw stayed throughout the contest.
It was one reason some looked down on Michael. He innovated strangely, but his dishes looked shallow and ugly. Yet those who knew him still liked his cooking.
They thought Michael cooked well, and his dishes tasted great. But Michael was not satisfied with just cooking. His victory over Gwen at Grand Chef, where plating counted, proved his dishes overwhelmed despite poor presentation.
Yeah, he’s a genius...
Not a cooking genius, but a genius who instantly understood and applied principles.
Most thought cooking was emotional and unquantifiable—Michael quantified it all.
“You look so relaxed. Not nervous?”
“I’m more nervous than anyone,” Michael laughed. “I get more nervous in front of students since I’m not a professional chef.”
With curiosity, Michael asked, “Can you briefly explain your dish?”
“Umm... I’ll make a simple Japanese meal.”
“Japanese? That’s too broad.”
“True. I don’t know what to call it exactly. Maybe tataki, but that’s awkward—it’s not really grilled.”
“You want it tender?”
“Yes. I just worry I won’t have enough time to marinate. Maybe 40 minutes is enough. By the way, can I ask something?”
“What?”
“I thought no one had a perfect palate. Then, as a judge, I learned you have one. How does it work?”
Minjoon smiled at the praise.
“Looks like you want to judge my cooking. Interesting expression.”
“Does that mean you’ll show it?”
“Nope. Not until you’re my judge.”
Michael lowered his head with a wistful look. Minjoon found it refreshing to see a man with wrinkles show such childlike honesty.
Watching Michael cook, Minjoon thought he might grill only the mackerel’s skin to highlight the sashimi and grilled parts.
That’s tricky.
Heat control was crucial: overcooking or undercooking could ruin it.
Michael seemed determined to cook it well, not just sear it.
He checked Michael’s marinade: soy sauce, vinegar, fruit juice—enough to reduce fishiness.
Of course, Minjoon could only guess until he saw the finished dish.
He glanced at other participants, frowning at their inferior cooking.
“Oh my God... Have you never cooked fish?”
“No, but I’ll try my best.”
“Focus on removing the fishy smell. You’ll lose otherwise.”
“Can’t you see the guts inside?”
“Oh, I’ll rinse it now.”
“You don’t have to. I won’t try that dish. Why not get a fresh mackerel instead? Any reason to use that one? Aren’t you overconfident?”
“How many cold mackerels will you serve us if you roast right away? You’re making canned mackerel.”
“You say you’ll cook it no matter what but do nothing, Diana. You’ve given up but pretend to try.”
Minjoon pointed out their soft spots one by one. Their lack of skill wasn’t their fault, but he couldn’t tolerate their selfish greed, trying to satisfy themselves despite knowing their cooking would disappoint.
Watching Minjoon’s fierce criticism, Joseph said to Kaya, “Man, Minjoon’s got the devil’s temper! He’s fierce.”
Kaya replied, “Well, I trained him well.”