Chapter 572: Each Team (3)
Chapter 572: Each Team (3)
Kaya was a strange woman. She was complicated and twisted, harbouring half-baked confidence, half-baked self-esteem, and a sense of half-baked inferiority. She knew she was good at cooking and believed she had talent, but no one had truly verified it. While she fiercely believed she was not insignificant, deep down she thought she was unimportant.
But if that were all, if she had only that twisted personality, Minjoon wouldn’t have admired her so much. Of course, knowing her potential influenced how he approached her, but the main reason he genuinely liked her was because he had closely observed her efforts beside her. She was making a beautiful struggle to succeed—desperately striving toward the world. Sometimes, her desperate efforts hurt those around her, but she never paid attention to petty pride contests. She understood that sinking into the swamp with someone made it impossible to help either herself or them out.
“Alright…” Minjoon nodded briefly. He didn’t need to speak about Kaya on camera. He was content to keep his deep feelings for her to himself.
Soon, the cooking mission began. It was a feast of amateur chefs from different backgrounds.
Man, I can’t help but sigh.
Minjoon didn’t have high expectations, since most participants were amateurs except Hugo. Yet some teams surprised him with exceptional performance. He even felt strongly compelled to cheer them on.
To his surprise, Hugo’s team showed the best teamwork. With Hugo as head chef, his members respectfully followed his instructions one by one, and he respected them in return. He wasn’t a superior but part of the team. Occasionally he needed to be stern, but when he had joined Grand Chef Season 3 with Minjoon, he had no trouble managing his team members. He remained kind and considerate.
Michael’s team was also surprisingly good—and it was entirely thanks to Michael. He clearly defined his team’s roles in ways no one else had imagined, though he didn’t act as a head chef like Hugo. Instead, Michael focused entirely on calculation: timing the heating of pans and oil, boiling water, trimming ingredients, roasting meat, and preheating—all with scientific precision.
Theoretically, such calculations were possible. Understanding the science rather than relying on intuition, calculating heat-time relationships was a piece of cake for him.
Of course, Michael had room for improvement. No matter how good his calculations, he couldn’t account for the countless variables that occurred while cooking. He had to adjust his team roles when he found errors, so Minjoon saw him as a half-baked head chef.
On the other hand, Gwen’s team was more precarious than he expected.
Teamwork was the toughest task for amateur chefs. Faced with this, Gwen and her members chose the safest path: each made their own cooking, but helped each other if able.
They were given one hour to cook. It was a generous amount of time. If Minjoon had one hour, he was confident he could easily create a five-course dish. Of course, he’d sacrifice some taste quality due to lack of marinating or ripening time, but it would be an excellent dish nonetheless.
Come to think of it, I’ve changed a lot.
In the past, he thought it difficult for a team to make a full course within an hour, but now it wasn’t hard to do it alone. He found his slow daily progress frustrating, but looking back, he had truly come far.
That opportunity would come to Gwen too. If she survived, someday she’d also realise how much she had grown.
Minjoon watched her silently. She was responsible for dessert. To his knowledge, her baking wasn’t strong, so he wondered what dessert she planned.
What she made was more modern than he expected.
It’s fried cream.
Not an original idea. Deep-fried cream had recently gained popularity. As the saying went, if frying shoes could be delicious, people wanted to fry anything at least once. In England, a bizarre dish of deep-fried Oreo wrapped in bacon had become trendy; soon, fried milk might follow.
The process wasn’t difficult. First, take avocado and mix it with moderately solidified whipped cream. Then sprinkle sugar, mix, and freeze it. She probably didn’t freeze it long, given time constraints. The goal was just to solidify it enough so it wouldn’t lose shape when fried.
Minjoon thought suddenly: if he made fried cream, what dessert would he create? Would he limit himself to one avocado like that? No. He’d reject the idea that it had to be sweet. He loved contradictions.
What if he poured clam broth into whipped cream? Could he extract the savoury flavour and surprise those eating? But the cream would melt immediately.
Then, if I concentrate it with sugar and pour it like syrup?
No, that wouldn’t work either. Sugar might control sweetness but would change the broth’s fresh, spicy flavour he sought. Concentrated and heavy tastes wouldn’t preserve the sharpness no matter how diluted.
If it’s a purée, maybe.
But purée would leave clam texture behind. That was okay for other desserts but not here. After a long meal, customers didn’t want to chew something chewy; soft tiramisu and soufflé were popular for this reason.
What if I overcame clam purée’s limitations by sieving it multiple times through a cloth?
Still no. He wanted the taste of clam broth, not clam meat. The clam flavour lingered in the cream. It might be possible, but unlikely to suit dessert.
“What are you doing?” Kaya asked, watching him blankly.
Startled, he looked at her, smiled sheepishly, and said, “I was thinking how Gwen’s fried cream might be improved.”
“Any ideas?”
“I thought about bringing out the clam stock flavour in the cream. Hey, don’t make that face! It could be really tasty.”
“Well, aside from the difficulty combining the two, I don’t think it would taste like dessert at all.”
“I agree. People prefer fresh, sharp flavours at the start, not the end of a meal.”
Was there truly no way to serve a sharp, spicy dish as dessert? Should he abandon his serious pondering as delusion? People once thought mobile phones were science fiction; now everyone carries one. Maybe someone could realise his delusion.
Well, I think this might be the key to sensual cuisine.