Chapter 65: At the End of the Trip (2)
Chapter 65: At the End of the Trip (2)
The brief respite ended almost immediately. Before nine o’clock, the contestants were already gathered in front of the food trucks. They didn’t even have the leisure to properly express how glad they were to see one another again after nearly a week apart. Once microphones had been attached to their clothes, the judges appeared. It had been almost a week since they had last met.
Joseph looked at them calmly. “Did you all do well this past week?”
The contestants smiled bitterly. Their faces said everything.
Joseph curled his lips slightly, as though he understood. “It must have been difficult. You didn’t get enough sleep, your backs hurt, your necks hurt, and yet when you saw the customers smiling, you couldn’t even say that you were exhausted. That is the life of a chef. Your lives from now on will be much the same. You can think of this past week as a preview of how you’ll have to work for the next seventy years.”
Perhaps a food truck was actually easier in some respects. After all, this wasn’t a normal business, but a truck operated specifically for the mission. An ordinary restaurant had the advantage of staying in one place, but aside from that, running one was hardly easier.
Alan spoke next. “Later on, you’ll face even more stress than you did this week. It’ll vary depending on who you work under, but as you already know, most head chefs and sous-chefs have terrible tempers. And I’m not blaming them for it. Their personalities inevitably become rough. Even a small mistake can lead to consequences you can’t predict. Everything you put on a plate has to be checked with the same care a doctor gives to their own hands.”
(Translator’s Note: Sous-chef —The chef who serves directly beneath the head chef or chef de cuisine in a professional kitchen and commonly supervises day-to-day kitchen operations, staff, and individual stations. The position forms part of the brigade de cuisine, the hierarchical professional kitchen system associated particularly with French chef Auguste Escoffier (1846–1935), who systematised modern kitchen organisation around the turn of the twentieth century.)
Alan glanced towards Emily. “And then, if some food critic comes along and writes complete nonsense about you online or in the newspaper, you’ll start wondering why you ever chose this path. Some of them will write unreasonable things that make you question whether they understand cooking at all.”
“……Well, even I sigh when I see some food critics. And it seems you’ve already met your share of sloppy ones during this food-truck mission.”
The people Emily was referring to weren’t those who had criticised their cooking. Customers had every right to say they disliked the food. But there had also been people who seemed determined to attract attention by talking nonsense. Some claimed that a particular ingredient they hadn’t even used had been overwhelmingly strong, while others left reviews based entirely on those opinions without ever tasting the food themselves.
Emily looked towards the three team leaders. “Minjoon. Hugo. Chloe. As team leaders, you probably had to experience and endure more than the rest of your members. How are you feeling?”
Jo Minjoon glanced towards Hugo. Perhaps Hugo was forcing himself to stay composed, but he didn’t look well. It was understandable. Unless he had lied about his profits, his team would come third today. Hugo wasn’t the type to lie about something like that. If anything, he was exactly the sort of person who would feel even more responsible in a situation like this.
Chloe answered first. She seemed comparatively at ease, and her voice wasn’t particularly heavy. “It was difficult, but when I think about what we’ll have to face in the future, I think it was a valuable experience.”
“That’s an excellent answer. Minjoon?”
“The word ‘responsibility’ was more frightening than I expected. Of course, I knew you made me a team leader as a reward for placing first in the risotto mission, but it honestly felt more like I’d been given another test.”
He hadn’t intended to complain, but once he started speaking, that was how it sounded.
Alan smirked. “Think of it as experience. With your current level of experience, there aren’t many opportunities to cook from the position of a leader.”
“Yes. I understand that now.”
“Hugo, what about you? You look the most nervous out of the three.”
Hugo smiled bitterly. He hesitated for a moment before slowly answering, “I feel sorry for my teammates. I should have done better as team leader, but I think I was lacking in too many ways.”
“……I’m not so sure. From what I heard, you did quite well. I don’t think you need to put yourself down that much.”
“It’s not really that I’m putting myself down…… I’m sorry. I think I’m just too nervous.”
“Cheer up,” Emily said gently.
Then Joseph pointed towards the clock on the wall. “Today’s business will continue until 4:30. Your profits at that exact time will determine the result. Originally, the winning team was supposed to have dinner at Coconut Prime, a Michelin one-star restaurant…… but thanks to a patron, those plans have changed. The place where you’ll be eating today……”
At that moment, Alan glanced briefly at Jo Minjoon. Before anyone could think much about what that look meant, he continued.
“Is Rose Island in Chicago. A Michelin three-star restaurant.”
Everyone’s mouths fell open.
At that instant, a fierce desire to win surged through Jo Minjoon. Three Michelin stars. Those words carried extraordinary weight. Perhaps……
Will there be a level-ten dish there?
His heart began pounding. There was only a $50 difference between his team and Chloe’s. If they worked desperately enough today, perhaps they could overtake them. And now that everyone knew about his absolute sense of taste, yesterday’s profits had already been higher than usual. Maybe they could expect the same effect today.
Joseph said, “Do the best you can. Not everyone can win, but all of you can still satisfy your customers. I hope you’ll be able to do that.”
At those words, Hugo’s expression stiffened. It looked as though he had made some kind of resolution.
Jo Minjoon forced himself to rein in his greed. Yes, the customers came first. This wasn’t simply about selling food. It was about making something that satisfied the people who ate it. He couldn’t afford to forget that, not even for a moment.
Joseph spoke once more. “Go. Your customers will be waiting.”
By now, buying ingredients at the market didn’t take them long at all. Partly, they had simply become accustomed to the process. More importantly, they had already visited the Chicago market once before.
As usual, they decided to start by cooking the rice. Jo Minjoon had repeated the process countless times by now, but it was still the most important and difficult stage.
Rice was deceptively hard to cook well. Korean housewives cooked rice every day, yet the result could still vary. Some days it came out perfectly; other days, it was too wet. A rice cooker helped keep the quality consistent. Without one, it was difficult to predict exactly how the rice would turn out. People simply became accustomed to it because they ate rice every day, but properly cooking it was never as easy as it looked.
“How many do you think we’ll sell today?”
At the question, Jo Minjoon shrugged. They were still in Chicago, but this location was about two kilometres from where they had operated before. He didn’t think too many customers would come twice. And if they did, that would mean they liked the norimaki enough to deliberately come back for more.
They also couldn’t ignore the effect of his absolute sense of taste. Judging from their recent sales, Jo Minjoon doubted there would be any point today when they had no customers. The real problem was whether they could keep up with the demand. How quickly could they make norimaki? And today, the other teams seemed to be extending their business hours as well.
“The mission ends at 4:30,” someone said. “Should we aim to make fifteen hundred by then?”
“……Just hearing that number makes me sick. Do you really think we can sell all of them? If we can’t, we’ll only waste money on ingredients.”
“So we’ll have to adjust depending on the situation. But I think the total number of customers will be higher than usual. It’s different when all three trucks are gathered in the same place instead of just one.”
Anderson nodded in agreement. If there were only one truck, people who were hesitant might decide the trip wasn’t worth it. With three trucks together, there was a much greater chance they would actually get up and come.
Whether they made one thousand or two thousand in total, they could only prepare around three hundred at a time anyway. It was the same work they had been doing all week, but Jo Minjoon felt strangely relaxed. Perhaps it was because of what Hugo had told him the previous night. No, he was almost certain that was the reason. Thanks to that conversation, he had finally managed to sleep properly for the first time in days.
As soon as they finished the first batch of norimaki, Jo Minjoon immediately began cooking more rice. This time, Anderson was the one who opened the door.
The moment he stepped out through the back, he froze at the sight of the crowd. To say that the entire square was packed would have been an exaggeration, but there were so many people that he couldn’t see where the crowd ended. Calling it several hundred almost felt like an understatement.
Anderson hurried back into the truck and gasped. “……We might actually sell a thousand. There are a lot of people out there.”
“Right?”
Chloe’s team naturally started selling first. Their preparation was simpler: the bread had already been prepared, and they only needed to grill it or skewer ingredients onto the kochi. Customers had three choices—bread, meat, and sauce. It was simple, but undoubtedly an efficient system for serving large numbers of people.
Prices ranged from about $4 to $6. Considering there were no separate vegetables included, it wasn’t exactly cheap, but the portion size was generous enough that customers didn’t seem to complain.
It wasn’t quite as fast as norimaki, but it was still a relatively quick dish to prepare.
Joanne spoke anxiously. “Why are they so fast? Kaya grills meat like it’s an art. Even working that quickly, not a single piece is overcooked or raw.”
“She worked in a market. She probably has plenty of experience.”
“Whew…… scary. We need to push ourselves too.”
If Chloe’s team was putting that much pressure on them, Hugo’s team was the opposite. Their queue not only failed to shrink—it was noticeably shorter than the lines for Jo Minjoon’s and Chloe’s teams to begin with. It couldn’t really be helped.
Coffee and cake. Normally, that sort of menu appealed more strongly to women than men. And indeed, most of the people standing in Hugo’s queue were women. It was difficult to spot a man among them.
But losing male customers wasn’t the only weakness in their menu. The bigger problem was that it was dessert. Of course, some people might be willing to fill themselves up on cake, but Hugo’s team had prioritised quality over quantity. The portions were small, while the prices were high.
With Marco there, the quality itself was almost certainly excellent. But customers couldn’t know that before they tried it. At first glance, the menu alone was enough to make many people hesitate and step away.
Jo Minjoon sighed inwardly. It was regrettable, but he didn’t have the luxury of worrying about them.
He turned back towards the customers. “Kaya’s team…… no. There’s no point worrying too much about Chloe’s team. They’ll be feeling just as desperate looking at us. They don’t have time to rest either. Oh, yes. Welcome. I’ll take your order.”
“Two pork barbecues and one salmon. I watched the broadcast. When you started naming everything inside that fried tofu pocket, it sent chills down my spine.”
“Thank you.”
To be honest, Jo Minjoon had already heard something similar countless times. Even so, he couldn’t simply respond with a blank expression when the customer looked so genuinely excited. He received the same congratulations, gave the same thanks, and smiled in much the same way. The strange thing was that he didn’t grow tired of the repeated conversation. Their expressions were filled with goodwill towards him. How could he dislike that?
They made norimaki, sold it, and repeated the process again and again. Before long, it was almost 4:30.
One reassuring point was that they hadn’t rested even once all the way until closing time. The queue at Hugo’s truck gradually disappeared, while the sales pace at Chloe’s team began to slow as well.
Perhaps they really could……
No. Don’t start expecting anything yet.
Even so, Jo Minjoon couldn’t stop a smile from appearing on his face. The cameraman carefully adjusted his angle to capture it. Most likely, that smile would later be edited as the expression of a chef happily serving his customers.
As more people began leaving the area, the differences between the queues became much easier to see. The longest line belonged to Jo Minjoon’s team.
It wasn’t simply because people wanted to eat norimaki. Most of those who had watched the absolute sense of taste scene now regarded Jo Minjoon himself as a kind of unique brand.
Martin stroked his chin as he watched.
Regardless of whether he wins, Minjoon has grown wings.
Even if Jo Minjoon served perfectly ordinary food, some people would probably imagine flavours that weren’t there and praise him for them. Of course, there would always be overeager food critics who exaggerated things, but with his absolute sense of taste hanging over every evaluation, openly criticising him wouldn’t be so easy.
And Jo Minjoon’s cooking skills weren’t bad in the first place. On top of that, he was only twenty-three. There was no telling how far he might grow.
When the clock reached 4:30, there were hardly any norimaki left—only seven.
Jo Minjoon handed all seven out to the remaining customers for free. He couldn’t charge for them once business hours had officially ended.
They had made and sold roughly 1,100 pieces of norimaki. It was an incredible number. Normally, even when combining lunch and dinner, they didn’t sell anything close to that much. Today, despite working longer than usual, the amount they had sold was still extraordinary.
After subtracting oil and ingredient costs…… it should be a little over $1,000.
If every day of business were like this, every chef in the world would own a food truck.
The contestants returned to the Grand Chef house. They couldn’t announce the results out in public where everyone could see. Of course, the food-truck mission itself had already spoiled which contestants survived this far, but that had been unavoidable because of the format. Otherwise, there would have been no reason to reveal their progress.
The judges were waiting for them in the lobby as usual.
Alan spoke first. “We’ve received the final profit figures from each team leader. The winning and losing teams have already been decided. The amusing part is the difference between first and second place. How large do you think it is? Chloe?”
“……I’m not sure. Hmm…… about $10?”
“Half of that. That’s the difference between first and second place.”
Everyone immediately began murmuring in surprise.
Jo Minjoon felt heat rising in his chest. A difference of only $5. Which side had won by those five dollars—his, or Chloe’s?
Alan continued, “However, before announcing first place, we need to name the team going into the elimination challenge. It’s an unpleasant moment, but one we can’t avoid. I won’t drag this out. Today’s losing team earned a total profit of $5,643. Yes. Hugo, it’s your team.”
Hugo began trembling, his face turning pale.
Alan made no attempt to comfort him. His voice remained blunt. “Choosing to operate a café truck was a mistake in itself. First, your coffee-making skills aren’t especially strong. I don’t understand why you chose to centre your strategy around that. Second, you should have considered the size of the truck. You knew that enormous vehicle was built to accommodate fifteen people, and all you could think of was bread and coffee? A mobile bakery might have worked better than focusing on cakes. In my opinion, you became so captivated by the idea of a ‘café truck’ that your perspective narrowed. Hugo, what do you think?”
“……It was my mistake. I have nothing to say.”
Marco quietly patted Hugo’s shoulder.
Joseph looked at the team before speaking. “If you intend to open a restaurant, you have to consider many different things. It isn’t enough for the concept or the cooking itself to be good. Those are merely the basics. In that regard, the other teams performed very well. They understood both their locations and the peculiarities of the situation, and I could see from their menus that they had built flexible strategies around them.”
Joseph paused briefly to breathe, then continued.
“The first-place team earned a profit of $6,771.”
Silence spread through the lobby.
The moment Jo Minjoon heard the number, he knew the result. The Michelin three-star restaurant suddenly felt close enough to touch.
Joseph smiled. “Yes. That’s right. Congratulations, Minjoon. Your team won.”