Chapter 575: Each Team (6)
Chapter 575: Each Team (6)
The judges exchanged glances thoughtfully as they decided which team’s dishes to sample first. Minjoon asked, “Joseph, which team are you most curious about?”
“I’m curious about Michael’s team. I recall some disagreements among them earlier, but it seems like they’ve produced a solid dish.”
“I want to try Gwen’s team first. They seemed the most uncertain, but later on, they reassured me. Their dishes are quite fresh, too,” Minjoon added.
“I agree. I’d like to check Gwen’s team first as well,” Kaya said.
“Well then, our first choice is set,” Joseph said with a curious smile, amused and touched by how Kaya and Minjoon aligned so quickly. Their shared opinion about Gwen’s team felt fresh and genuine. The two looked a bit puzzled at his reaction.
“Gwen, Merlyn, Peter, please bring your dishes,” Minjoon called.
Nervously, each came forward carrying their plates. Minjoon nearly laughed at Merlyn’s serious expression framed by her chubby cheeks.
Smiling, Minjoon said, “Merlyn, you made the appetizer, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Could you explain it to us?”
“I added some poached eggs, a little black truffle powder, onion compote... oh, and some green onion and pata negra.”
“You mean pata negra?”
“Yeah! That’s it! The pata negra adds saltiness, and the poached egg yolk mixes with the other ingredients to make it richer. It’s fun!”
“Really?” Minjoon grinned.
The judges waited until the moment the yolk burst open before digging in. Carefully, they dipped their forks, blending yolk with onions, truffles, and pata negra, then savoured the combined flavours.
Kaya spoke first. “You put vanilla essence in this, right?”
“Yes! How did you know?”
“Because it tastes great.”
Merlyn’s eyes sparkled, convinced by Kaya’s keen palate. Rumours had said Kaya’s taste matched Minjoon’s, and now Merlyn believed it.
Minjoon checked the cooking score on the system.
Six points.
His personal score matched. It was a good dish—not outstanding, but impressive for a young girl like Merlyn. Her appetizer presented all the expected flavours, and Minjoon was eager to try more.
“Peter?” Minjoon called next. Peter answered calmly but with a hint of tension.
He explained, “This dish is fish and chips: pea purée, pipe-shaped French fries, topped with crispy champagne batter and fried sea bream. The sauce is made with salmon roe marinated in wine and sugar.”
“That’s a solid attempt. It could have been boring, but you added fresh ideas. I’m especially curious about the sauce.”
“Good job, Peter,” Kaya said with a pleased smile before immediately sampling a fry.
The hollow pipe fries soaked in pea purée tasted exceptionally sophisticated for amateur cooking.
Joseph thought to himself, Peter has grown so much. Remembering how unskilled Peter once was made his growth even sweeter.
Minjoon admired Peter’s dish for a different reason.
Cooking score: eight points.
A score he’d never expected. Beyond technique, Peter’s dish was filled with subtle joys: fries immersed in purée, light champagne-scented batter, delicate fried sea bream, and the juicy salmon roe sauce bursting in the mouth.
It was more artistic than any dish seen before in Grand Chef.
“You’ve come a long way, Peter,” Kaya whispered.
Peter trembled unconsciously. Such words meant far more than a casual compliment—they recognized his skill, confirming him as a chef.
Minjoon smiled warmly. “Looks like you’ve come to enjoy cooking, Peter. And it was delicious!”
Peter remained expressionless; Minjoon’s words conflicted with Peter’s own feelings. Cooking wasn’t something he liked; it was his refuge—the only mouse hole of hope in a world filled with hatred and despair.
Does he really like cooking? Is he serious?
Peter wanted to say no, but something inside stopped him. His wounded heart, anger, and frustration softened with Minjoon’s encouragement.
Minjoon observed Peter quietly.
Peter didn’t want tears again, but Minjoon understood the sadness buried beneath the silent façade.
Though now was the perfect moment to release feelings, Minjoon refrained from comforting gestures.
Peter can’t remain the tragic hero forever.
People first empathise with a tragic hero, but Peter hadn’t been that—only a villain tormenting Kaya and Minjoon.
He was shedding that image bit by bit, but Minjoon knew public opinion couldn’t shift so quickly.
Peter needed a new image—not necessarily triumphant, but worthy.
That’s why Minjoon judged him as a chef—not pity, not cheer.
“You didn’t cook like this before, Peter. Honestly, your past cooking was lacking in many ways. Besides fresh ideas, you missed basic technique.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s why I worked hard.”
“I can see it in your dish. Your technique is flawless, and your recipe creative. I thought your tandoori mackerel showed improvement, but it’s a common dish, so I didn’t expect much creativity. This dish blew me away.”
“You’re a professional chef now, not just a participant.”
“Are you serious?”
“Anybody who tries this dish will know you’re better than most chefs.”
“Chef?” Peter muttered, unsure. Becoming a chef hadn’t been important to him before. Fear and despair had dominated.
Though he’d entered Grand Chef with hope, failure left him hopeless, teaching him to give up early.
But Minjoon and the judges kept planting seeds of hope.
Can I hope again?
He once would have smiled at such kindness. Now, it scared him. Hope felt childish, maybe even betrayal.
But still, he wished to hold Minjoon’s hopeful hand.