Chapter 592: A Chef Doing His Country Good (3)
Chapter 592: A Chef Doing His Country Good (3)
“Uncle!” As soon as she saw Minjoon, Ella ran up and hugged him. Her flushed cheek pressed lightly against his waist. He smiled warmly, pulling her into a tight embrace. Though they were not related by blood, he felt a tender fondness for her, like a nephew.
He lifted his gaze. It was Marco, not Lisa, who had come out with Ella. Marco smiled softly and waved.
“Welcome back!”
“Yeah. It’s been a while. Have you been waiting long?”
“Not really. About twenty minutes. You got out sooner than I expected.”
“Well, it’s a domestic flight. No special procedures here.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Marco chuckled awkwardly, as if just remembering. Watching his innocent smile, Minjoon felt a wave of nostalgia. Memories of happier days together pushed away the unhappy thoughts about Kaya.
“Where are you heading? Straight to the Venice restaurant?”
“No, I don’t have to go there yet. I still have a few hours before my appointment. Thanks for coming. Would you like something to eat? My treat.”
“Sure.”
“I want fish and chips,” Ella said suddenly.
Marco and Minjoon exchanged looks and shrugged. They didn’t mind what they’d eat.
“Sure, let’s go. I know a good place.”
Minjoon led them towards a restaurant near the Venice branch of Rose Island. He hadn’t chosen it deliberately, but most fish and chips places were near the waterfront.
A little later, Ella sat at a beachside table, chewing fried fish with a cute expression. The cod, wrapped in a not-too-thick batter, was surprisingly meaty.
Minjoon took a bite of the fried cod and thought, This is much better than a fish cutlet.
Fish and chips was a British dish often dismissed without trying it. But when well cooked, it was far from ordinary. For one, the cod’s flesh could be eaten with a wide-open mouth like a hamburger. That was a stark contrast to a fish steak, whose meat crushed easily under a knife, leaving little to eat with a fork. Holding it with both hands like this was rare in a restaurant setting.
There’s no fishy smell at all.
The lightly vinegared fries were also appealing. Few ways made cod more delicious than classic fish and chips. Frying the cod this way was quite a creative approach.
Minjoon sprinkled a little vinegar on the fries and tasted them. Many would find vinegar on fries horrifying, but it was surprisingly orthodox.
Alright, some ketchup now.
Dipping fries in Sriracha or hot sauce wasn’t bad either. Accustomed to luxury, Minjoon enjoyed the simple pleasures of the dish.
“So, are you coming to Los Angeles?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
Ella, still enjoying her meal, looked up at him.
“Really?”
“Yeah, sooner or later.”
“I hope it’s sooner.” She smiled, then grew a little somber. She thought it was a pity he was in New York now but felt glad knowing he might return soon.
“Is your mum okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. She’s working at a bakery these days.”
“That’s a relief!”
Minjoon felt genuinely relieved. He had worried when Marco, instead of Lisa, came to meet him in LA—he feared Lisa was too ill to come out.
Hearing that Lisa was working at the bakery reminded him of Jack’s last passionate moments before his death. Lisa had to persevere, and he hoped she would stay with them forever. He didn’t want Ella to be left alone.
Lost in thought, he watched Ella. She looked uncertain, then made a decided gesture, gently tapping him.
“Uh?”
“Eat this,” she said, sucking salt off her fingers as she offered him a piece of fried fish.
“No thanks, I’m fine.”
“You ate all your fish. Eat this one too, Uncle. I’m small; I don’t need much.”
She should have given it to Marco, who was bigger and had already cleared the fish bowl and mashed potatoes. Minjoon smiled and took the fish.
“Thanks.” The fish was still warm.
“Every time I see the Venice store, it amazes me.”
After dropping Minjoon off at the Venice branch, Marco said he had to return to the bakery and left. Ella stayed behind, knowing she might interrupt Minjoon and Rachel’s conversation later, but she was well-behaved and quiet, so being with them was fine.
“Aren’t you going to reopen this restaurant?” Ella asked sadly.
Patting her head, he said, “We probably will, soon.”
“Probably? What does that mean?”
“Well, I might become the owner of this restaurant.”
“Really?” Ella’s eyes widened. The Rose Island Venice branch was a wonderful place to her because so many great people around her had worked there. It was the greatest restaurant in the world. And now he might become its owner?
“Uncle, you’re awesome!”
Though such childlike envy embarrassed him as always, he didn’t mind.
He sat with her, quietly taking in the surroundings. Hippies and homeless people gathered nearby, some using drugs; model-like women in high heels walked past, their shoes squeaking.
It was a strange neighbourhood, somewhat like Harlem, but alive with indescribable vitality and beauty. He could now feel why Daniel had opened a restaurant here.
Can I be like you, too? Minjoon had asked Daniel before. Daniel had never answered, but his wife Rachel came instead.
Squeak! A car screeched to a halt in front of them. Isaac and Rachel stepped out and approached. Minjoon instinctively prepared to bow but did not.
“Rachel!” he greeted with a smile. She smiled back.
“Minjoon!”
It was time for them to tackle the homework left for each other.
Isaac opened the door, and Minjoon and Rachel entered the restaurant silently.
Kitchen, hall, office, break room—his eyes lingered on the hall as he walked, lost in thought.
It was an interesting moment. The old owner and the potential new owner sat at the guest table.
After Isaac took Ella’s hand and led her to the break room, Rachel and Minjoon fell into a long silence.
They could have chatted about trivial personal matters, but they were both too confused to think of that.
Yet they didn’t feel awkward. Their silence wasn’t meaningless.
Strangely, he felt as if he were having a conversation with Rachel through that silence.
Deep down, he asked her a question, and she answered—not an audible reply, but clearer in his mind than in reality.
When their quiet exchange was over, he asked, “Have you found the answer?”
He wasn’t sure if Rachel had gone through the same thought process.
She asked softly, “Have you?”
“I think I have, even if I’m not certain it’s the right answer. At least, it’s the best one I could find.”
“I see…” she said calmly.
As he watched her, a strange déjà vu washed over him. He sensed she was different this time. Something was missing. And he realised what it was.