Chapter 560: Cogwheels (7)
Chapter 560: Cogwheels (7)
Minjoon was deep in thought as he looked at Gwen’s mackerel dish. Generally, achieving a good score for fish without preserving its original flavour was difficult. Removing the fishy taste of mackerel was technically challenging, yet the seasoning Gwen used effectively masked the mackerel’s defining character.
For those avoiding any fishy aroma, Gwen’s dish might have tasted better than one preserving that scent. But from a broader gastronomic perspective, it hardly represented the ideal mackerel flavour.
“Well, her cooking score is 6.”
Lower than expected—Minjoon had anticipated at least a 7. Interestingly, her gastronomic level was 6, which contrasted with her cooking score. He knew it was rare for a chef’s cooking level to be lower than their gastronomic level.
A chef’s gastronomic level indicates their fundamental understanding of cooking; without that, skill falters.
But Gwen’s cooking level lagged behind her gastronomic insight, suggesting she made a dish she didn’t fully comprehend.
Kaya and Minjoon exchanged complicated looks, sharing unspoken sentiments. Their synchronicity surprised many participants—chefs often had differing views, but these two seemed united without a word.
Kaya spoke first. “First, I want you to know I’m rooting for you. I understand what it’s like to compete in Grand Chef while struggling.”
Gwen nodded silently, like a fragile fledgling. Kaya was her idol; though backgrounds differed, both had endured hardships to reach this stage.
Gwen hoped to be as great a chef as Kaya. That aspiration drove her participation in Grand Chef.
Kaya asked, “Do you like cooking?”
“Pardon?”
“I asked if you like cooking.”
Unexpected as the question was, Gwen hesitated before reflecting. Of course, she did—no one pursued this path for money or success alone. All chefs loved cooking. Most participants believed so.
Kaya found Gwen’s slow reply odd.
Sighing, Kaya continued, “Honestly, your dish lacked fun. You didn’t cook with joy. You said you used that sauce often—that was your entire creativity: ‘Let me marinate mackerel in my usual sauce and grill it.’ You cooked mechanically, without imagination. Do you understand?”
Before Minjoon could speak, Kaya took charge, her voice heavy with frustration.
“When making this dish, you didn’t thoughtfully consider how the sauce would affect mackerel’s taste. You just knew it was a good sauce and applied it. Had you thought about each ingredient’s role and harmony with the fish, the dish would be very different.”
Some might see Kaya as harsh, but Minjoon knew she was kinder here than ever. She pointed out Gwen’s weaknesses because she wished Gwen had reached her full potential.
Gwen clearly worked hard to improve, but Kaya was disappointed Gwen hadn’t done her best.
Not everyone appreciated Kaya’s frankness, but Gwen understood her genuine concern.
At last, Gwen said sadly, “Sorry.”
She bit her lip, her voice soft. Kaya didn’t want an apology; emotions mixed within her.
Soon, Kaya’s tone softened.
“Your cooking was good.”
In the end, Kaya met Gwen halfway.
“People react differently to your dishes. But you totally killed the true mackerel taste. If this were the final rounds’ second half instead of preliminaries, you’d be eliminated. But you’re not out yet.”
Though indirect, Kaya made clear Gwen wouldn’t receive a low grade for this dish yet.
Gwen sighed in relief.
Minjoon caught the tension still lingering in her eyes, despite safety from dropping out.
“Gwen, I imagine you studied a lot—surfing the internet, reading cookbooks, searching for recipes. But I doubt you really tried these recipes yourself. It’s hard in a normal home.”
Indeed, Gwen wasn’t wealthy; good ingredients and spices were likely unaffordable. Her use of basic products like A1 sauce reflected this. Yet her cooking level was 7, showing she delved deeply into cooking little by little.
For example, she probably learned precisely when to flip steaks or how long to roast scallops for perfect texture. But rote learning prevented her from making cooking her own. Her gastronomic level lower than cooking level confirmed this.
“Do you want to win, Gwen?” Minjoon asked quietly.
She nodded, silent.
He looked into her eyes—harsh, not beautiful, deep blue.
He briefly wondered if frozen fish’s eyes resembled hers.
“Then you must be able to cook.”
“I like it.”
“No. You only like cooking half-heartedly. You must understand fully how each taste unfolds or how sizzling or boiling sounds when meat is properly cooked. You need to own it, accept it completely.”
His tone was firm. Allowed to continue as is, she’d ruin her cooking between unreachable dreams and incompatible reality.
He knew her fate if stuck there.
“Why do you want to win?”
“To pay off debts and turn a new leaf.”
“You’ve already turned a new leaf, Gwen.”
Minjoon’s logic sounded strange. Saying she’d started anew implied she hadn’t yet. Her life was still messy, still despairing.
He added, “A fresh start isn’t grabbing a trophy. It begins when you truly renew your determination.”
“Isn’t that idealistic?”
“Here’s a truth: you won’t win if you cook just to win or redeem life. Unless you escape that mindset, victory is impossible. Absolutely.”
In that light, Minjoon saw Michael Ohr as a true genius who loved cooking.
A saying goes: geniuses can’t beat the diligent, and the diligent can’t beat the passionate. No matter its accuracy, this contained vital truth for success.
Michael Ohr had that passion.