Chapter 557: Cogwheels (4)
Chapter 557: Cogwheels (4)
Kaya looked quite satisfied. To be honest, she hadn’t expected much change in Minjoon. She disliked how he was too kind to everyone around him. Not that he was hypocritical—he was genuinely considerate. He couldn’t bear to see anyone hurt, so he never imagined harming anyone, even when necessary.
“Some meat tastes better when it rots, some needs pounding, but watching him pet it every day is frustrating,” she thought.
But Minjoon was different now. He no longer aimed to appear angelic to everyone. What changed his mind was unclear—perhaps he’d grown tired of the ‘good man syndrome’ or was frustrated by chefs abandoning responsibility, blinded by success.
Whatever it was, Minjoon had changed. For example, where he used to suppress dissatisfaction, he now voiced it actively. Kaya liked this new side of him.
After reviewing all the participants, Minjoon stood on the podium, wearing an uncomfortable expression. Most chefs were competent, but some, who showed no care for customers, irritated him. He took punitive measures against them—nearly ten left gloomily after having their entry numbers forfeited by Minjoon.
Beaming, Kaya said, “Wow, you’re pretty tough on them. I didn’t expect you to kick them out.”
“I don’t want to waste time. I won’t try their food—it’s too poor to call it that. How can I? If they want their dishes tasted, they betray us.”
“You’ve made them regret coming. How do you justify yourself?”
“Because I’m old enough,” Minjoon shrugged with a grin.
He had learned discipline from years in the kitchen. If he always treated junior chefs kindly, he couldn’t lead effectively. Now, he understood why hot-tempered head chefs on TV had to be so harsh.
“You’ve got a lot on your shoulders, Minjoon!” Joseph said, smiling proudly.
Minjoon felt awkward under his proud gaze, as if Joseph was his parent.
Kaya gave him a mischievous look; he quickly turned away.
The participants were almost done cooking.
Joseph asked, “Anyone you’re looking forward to?”
“Michael Ohr. I wonder if he’ll create a great dish.”
“Looks ordinary. Isn’t it just tataki?”
“More cooked than tataki. I told him it isn’t tataki.”
“Hmm… Is he trying to balance raw and cooked in the fish?”
“I’m curious. Wonder how he’ll do that.”
Minjoon nodded calmly. Joseph glanced at Kaya.
When asked who she expected to win, Kaya said, “Peter.”
“Because of your fond memories of him?”
“What? I’m just curious about why he joined again,” she smiled, shaking her head.
Her relationship with Peter was strained, but she didn’t want to treat him unfairly. She’d praise him if he cooked well—it would prove his dedication. But what if he failed and mocked them?
At that moment, Minjoon announced, “Time’s up.”
“Raise your hands, everyone. Time is over.”
Some participants hesitated, reluctant to stop adding finishing touches.
Watching quietly, Minjoon felt strange. Now he had authority to tell them when to start or stop cooking. His words held as much weight as their head chefs’.
That’s why the position matters.
He understood June’s and Janet’s feelings.
“Who do you want to try first?” he asked Kaya.
“How about Francesca? I’d like to see her skills.”
Francesca was a single mother who bet everything on cooking to rebuild her life. More than a career choice, cooking was her only hope.
Kaya sympathised deeply but rooted for her quietly. That didn’t mean she’d give good grades blindly.
Minjoon agreed. “Francesca, come forward. Bring your dishes.”
Nervously, Francesca placed her plates down.
“I made couscous.”
Minjoon asked softly, “Do you know it looks normal?”
Francesca bit her lip. As a spectator, he might feel sorry, but as a judge, he couldn’t. That wasn’t arrogance—it was his duty.
A judge evaluated strengths and weaknesses, not just praised. Flattery wasn’t judging.
Francesca said, “I’ve never made anything unusual.”
“I’m not saying to avoid ordinary dishes,” Minjoon said gently. “If you make your ordinary dish extraordinary, you have a chance. Do you think your cuisine differs from others?”
“I don’t know others’ dishes well, and honestly, I’m unsure how good mine is.”
She lacked confidence, but he didn’t blame her. He’d been like that at first too.
“You need to be bolder. Francesca, you have a reason to win, but that isn’t what wins. Qualified, steady chefs—not desperate ones—win this contest. Winning Grand Chef is called a miracle, but luck alone won’t get it. And those needing it most often don’t receive it. In that sense…”
He picked up a spoon. “This first mission is almost the finals.”
“I see…” Francesca nodded.
Minjoon tasted her couscous and mackerel. The fish was firm—steamed with soy and hoisin after a slight roast. The couscous was ordinary, akin to swapping rice for pasta grains.
He nodded. “Delicious. Reminds me of childhood.”
Her dish scored a 6. Though ordinary, it showed she did her best. Her cooking sense wasn’t bad. She lacked technique for luxury dishes but was qualified as a chef.
Minjoon withheld praise—not wanting her to grow overconfident. She needed to recognise her inferiority to grow.
Kaya and Joseph agreed. Francesca didn’t surpass expectations but met them, enough to advance.
Judges then chose the next candidate to evaluate—usually strongest contenders first, since tasting cold dishes was inevitable.
Minjoon called Michael Ohr forward.
“Oh? You called me?”
Surprised, Michael pointed at himself with wide eyes, then brought his dish smiling brightly.
“Calling me means you have high expectations, right? You think my dish might be the tastiest. Who called me?”