Chapter 558: Cogwheels (5)
Chapter 558: Cogwheels (5)
“It’s me.”
“Ah, Minjoon!”
Michael beamed broadly, clearly moved by Minjoon calling on him—even though he knew Minjoon could be tough to handle at times.
Clearing his throat, Minjoon began, “It looks like a simple grilled mackerel, but you said you undercooked it, right?”
“Right. It may seem minor, but that one detail makes all the difference. It creates a flavour you don’t get in sushi, tataki, or grilled meat—though maybe you find it in all of them.”
“Hmm…”
Minjoon didn’t press further; he wanted to start eating.
Cooking score is 7.
Michael’s dish was excellent. Compared to Francesca’s steamed mackerel, Michael’s was simple—grilled mackerel with pickled ginger, soy sauce, and wasabi—a typical Japanese style you’d find anywhere.
Still, he scored a 7.
I wonder how it tastes…
His heart beat faster. He lifted a thick piece of mackerel with a blackened blue skin, oil glistening.
The cross-section was medium-cooked to the midpoint, nearly sashimi beyond—cooked more than tataki, essentially medium-rare or rare. Since Minjoon preferred fully grilled fish, this style was unfamiliar.
I hope he properly removed the fishy smell…
Michael had used lemon to neutralise it, Minjoon guessed. He wondered if any lingering aroma would bother him, but when he bit into the fish with wasabi and soy, he realised he needn’t worry. The savoury mackerel flavour and sea scent filled his mouth perfectly.
This is great…
He couldn’t help but admire it. If tataki bursts with the sea’s explosive aroma, this grilled mackerel coaxed out its delicate fragrance, balancing every detail impeccably.
Michael caught Minjoon’s approving gaze, eyes twinkling. He was somewhat difficult to deal with—his personality as complex as his cuisine.
But Minjoon knew he couldn’t ignore Michael or his cooking. At first glance, it was ordinary grilled mackerel or tataki. Without knowing Michael’s future, Minjoon might not have been so interested.
But he knew. Even the system whispered that the mackerel was more special than it seemed—and the whisper was always right.
Minjoon said nothing and turned to Kaya and Joseph. If he praised the dish now, they wouldn’t share his pleasant surprise.
Kaya and Joseph didn’t question his silence. They were curious but knew the answer awaited after tasting.
Well, I’m really looking forward to his dish too.
Stepping forward, Kaya reflected on how Minjoon’s judgment was unfailingly accurate. No one who met Minjoon’s expectations had ever disappointed her.
“Michael, Minjoon has high hopes for you.”
“Yeah, I felt it too.”
“Honestly, your dish looks disappointing at a glance. Are you smart or what? Your presentation is terrible.”
She pointed at the plate. Michael’s plating looked careless—wasabi scattered awkwardly, thick soy sauce pooling improperly. The grilled fish looked terrible, as if it came from a camping site rather than a cooking arena. Skin and flesh crushed, messily arranged.
Michael laughed. “I don’t focus on plating because my customers liked it like this.”
“You don’t care about presentation?”
“Nope. They enjoyed eating it regardless.”
Indeed, those who tried his dish reacted fantastically, which made him disregard plating. He found their surprise amusing.
“If you want to open a restaurant, bad plating will hurt you.”
“I’m not thinking about opening a grand restaurant.”
Kaya narrowed her eyes, annoyed by his relaxed confidence. Everyone else stressed like new recruits facing the army. But he acted as if he didn’t care.
I’ll give you zero points if that dish isn’t good.
Silently, she dipped mackerel in soy and tasted.
Gosh, this is amazing…
Shocked, she admitted his grilled mackerel was delicate and delicious enough to rival Minjoon’s.
Where Minjoon’s was complex, Michael’s was simple—almost minimalist.
If Minjoon made it, he’d improve the wasabi sauce differently to enhance it.
But expecting Michael to match Minjoon—the elite chef—was unfair.
“This recipe must have taken some time.”
“Not really. I researched when people most like fish’s sea flavour and how the Maillard reaction works on fish. Understanding that saved time. Then it’s just calculating cooking time.”
Michael detailed his process kindly.
Kaya smiled wryly. Stop talking nonsense!
She disliked highly educated types who bragged whenever possible.
Before she could speak, Joseph cleared his throat. Seeing Minjoon and Kaya’s intrigued expressions, he seemed eager to taste Michael’s.
Reluctantly, Kaya stepped aside.
Joseph tried the mackerel silently, then exclaimed, “Oh, oh!”
“Wow! How do you get such fantastic flavour with that ugly plating? The irony!”
“I cook for reactions like yours. Does it taste good, friend?”
“Very good. I never thought I’d enjoy mackerel this much. It’s a familiar taste but the first I truly enjoyed. I don’t know how to describe it.”
Joseph’s enthusiastic praise was genuine. Minjoon thought Joseph’s purity was admirable. Although a master chef who could be proud and arrogant, he was humble when facing good food.
Joseph simply loved cuisine.
Minjoon’s own culinary philosophy was partly shaped by Joseph. Back in Korea, few chefs showed as much passion; many chose cooking for practicality—stable jobs and status—rather than love of food.
In that, Joseph’s innocence was inspiring.
For Minjoon, the essence of all ‘cogwheels’ was cuisine itself. When the food stopped, everything else ceased.
How many can love cooking as much as Joseph?
Translator’s Notes