Chapter 74: Unexpected Collaboration (2)
Chapter 74: Unexpected Collaboration (2)
Jo Minjoon’s memory had not been wrong.
At midday, the staff called all the contestants together. In the kitchen, the long-awaited judges were already standing in place. Once the opening remarks were over, Alan announced the theme.
“The theme of this mission is ‘buffet’.”
At Alan’s flat declaration, the corner of Kaya’s mouth lifted as though she had already won. It was understandable. When people heard the word buffet, it naturally gave the impression that this would be a team mission.
But Alan had not finished.
“Each of you will make one dish. Tomorrow evening, local residents will come here to eat, and you’ll need to make something that captures their hearts. You’ll receive votes from both them and us. Customers won’t serve themselves. You’ll serve the portion size we specify. Each vote is worth ten points, and those points will be added to the number of times your dish is served. The two contestants with the lowest scores will have to leave us.”
Kaya stared at Alan’s mouth in disbelief.
Then Alan happened to meet her gaze and flinched.
He did not know why, but her eyes were so fierce that she looked as though she were glaring at an irreconcilable enemy. Alan quietly looked away.
Joseph laughed before speaking.
“What you need to consider in this mission isn’t simply how quickly your dish runs out. You’ll probably understand what I mean before this is over. You’re free to cook whatever you want. You should have realised this during the food truck mission, but in challenges like these, getting the first step right is crucial. Depending on what you plan from the beginning, victory or defeat may already be decided before you even start cooking.”
Emily continued, “Think carefully. At the same time, don’t forget the customers who’ll actually be eating your dish. I hope you don’t make something simply for the sake of the mission, but food meant for them. I’m looking forward to a good competition.”
With Emily’s words, the mission briefing came to an end.
Jo Minjoon nudged Kaya with his shoulder. Kaya looked him up and down with narrowed eyes.
He did not particularly like that gesture, yet for some reason, he did not hate it either.
“Well? Looks like you’ll be making me lunch too.”
“…Shut up, pig.”
“Why am I a pig again? Last time you said I was too frail.”
“If you eat lunch on top of breakfast, you’re a pig.”
“I’m pretty sure you eat three meals a day too.”
Kaya said nothing and merely scuffed the floor with her foot.
Jo Minjoon smirked. “If you really don’t want to, I can let you take the bet back.”
“Who asked you to? I may have grown up with nothing, but I’ve never broken a promise.”
“Still, today’s breakfast was pretty poor.”
“You woke up way too early.”
Kaya spoke with an aggrieved expression, as though she had been unfairly accused. She began counting on her fingers before eventually opening her mouth.
“It’s been twenty-one times. I couldn’t make you breakfast during the team mission because I was busy, and I only missed it during the food truck mission, so that makes twenty-one. I’ve cooked breakfast for you twenty-one times. Haven’t I treated you pretty well by now?”
“Yes. Good job.”
“…You always agree so casually at times like this.”
The sight of her biting her lip in frustration was oddly endearing, almost childlike.
Of course, Kaya rarely acted particularly mature to begin with, but remembering that she was still a teenager made it feel even stranger.
Just as Jo Minjoon was smiling, one of the staff shouted loudly.
“It’s time for the mid-mission interviews! If your name is called, go to the interview room immediately!”
It did not take long for Jo Minjoon’s turn to come.
He was the first contestant called.
Martin was waiting in the interview room with a smile.
“Been well?”
“Yes, pretty much. It’s hard not to be when you’ve got a pantry like this.”
For someone who knew how to cook, a place overflowing with ingredients was practically heaven.
Martin nodded as though he understood.
“What do you think of the mission?”
“I figured a buffet mission would come up at least once, so I’m not that surprised.”
“Have you already decided what you’ll make? Or has it been too soon for that?”
“I’ve thought of something, but I haven’t decided yet. My choice might change depending on what everyone else makes.”
At that, Martin smiled meaningfully.
Jo Minjoon was not merely a chef with an unusually sensitive palate. He knew how to think.
The mission had only just been announced, and he had already grasped the key point.
“You’re clever. I didn’t expect you to understand the mission this quickly.”
“It’s simple. The customers aren’t only eating my food. They’ll be eating everyone else’s dishes too. Even though we aren’t a team, I still need to consider how my dish fits with the others.”
Normally, the thing people looked for most at a buffet was meat. Whether it was fish or ordinary meat did not really matter.
But what would happen if nine out of ten dishes were rich, greasy meat dishes, while the last one was a clean vegetable dish?
The vegetable dish might receive fewer votes than the meat dishes, but it could disappear faster than any of them.
It did not take long for the others to realise the same thing.
Or rather, it was not that they all independently realised it.
After the interviews were over, Sasha gathered everyone in the fourth-floor lobby.
A ring-shaped pad was resting on her dark skin, and her hair hung long around her shoulders.
Sasha opened her mouth.
“I think we need to talk.”
“About what?”
“The menu. If we all decide separately, we could end up with everyone making pasta, or all ten of us making desserts. Even the cooking styles could overlap. Don’t you think we should avoid something like that?”
“I agree.” Jo Minjoon nodded.
Looking around, it did not seem as though anyone objected to Sasha’s suggestion.
She drew a breath, looking slightly nervous, before continuing.
“I’ll say mine first. I’m planning to make dessert. Strawberry chiffon cake. Can everyone else tell us what you’re thinking of making?”
A few people hesitated, but none of them could remain silent while everyone else spoke.
One by one, they began naming the dishes they had in mind.
Mapo tofu for Chloe.
(Translator’s Note: Mapo tofu — A Sichuan dish of tofu traditionally cooked with minced meat, fermented chilli-bean paste, chilli oil, and Sichuan pepper. It is associated with Chengdu and is generally traced to the late Qing dynasty, commonly to the nineteenth century and a cook popularly remembered as “Chen Mapo”.)
Tiramisu for Marco.
Eggplant lasagne for Anderson.
The others mentioned dishes more tentatively, as though they had yet to make a final decision.
Jo Minjoon spoke as well. “I’m thinking of making a chicken dish. I haven’t decided exactly what yet.”
More precisely, he was considering fried chicken or dak-galbi.
(Translator’s Note: Dak-galbi —A Korean chicken dish strongly associated with Chuncheon in Gangwon Province. Despite the name literally meaning “chicken ribs”, modern dak-galbi normally consists of pieces of chicken cooked with vegetables and seasoning. The modern Chuncheon-style dish developed during the 1960s and became particularly popular as an inexpensive meal for students and soldiers.)
He had noticed it during the food truck mission, but viewers tended to expect Asian food from him.
It was understandable.
Jo Minjoon was Asian, after all. More than that, he was not Asian-American. He was someone who had genuinely lived in Asia before coming here, so expecting foreign cuisine from him was hardly unreasonable.
The problem was that being foreign while still matching local tastes was not easy.
Foreign food, by definition, was unfamiliar. And unfamiliar flavours were more likely to provoke rejection.
Was that not why pasta in Korea was so often made with cream sauces rather than simple oil- or cheese-based preparations? Traditional versions could taste too clean, too simple, or even bland to Korean diners. And when too much cheese was used, it could feel overly greasy instead.
With that in mind, choosing between fried chicken and dak-galbi was difficult.
The problem was not whether the dishes would suit people’s tastes, but which one could offer a deeper and more appealing flavour.
Would dak-galbi be better?
For one thing, there was a difference in experience.
He had rarely fried chicken at home because dealing with that much oil was troublesome. Dak-galbi, on the other hand, was something he had cooked whenever the craving struck.
Naturally, there was a significant difference in how familiar he was with each dish.
Looking around at the others, Jo Minjoon noticed that everyone was trying hard to avoid sauces or cooking styles that might overlap too much with other dishes.
Fortunately, among the ten contestants, he was the only one considering chicken.
Chloe glanced at him. “You still haven’t decided?”
“I have. I’m going with dak-galbi.”
“Oh, I like that too. That sounds good. How are you making the sauce? Soy sauce or gochujang?”
“Your mapo tofu already has a spicy sauce, so if I use gochujang, the flavours might overlap. I’m thinking of adding apple vinegar and ginger, simmering the chicken in soy sauce, then giving it heat with chilli powder. Of course, the flavour would be too strong on its own, so I’m planning to serve it with rice.”
“Ugh, just hearing that is making me drool.”
Chloe laughed as she pressed both thumbs against the corners of her mouth.
Jo Minjoon spoke again.
“How about we evaluate each other’s dishes? I think we should taste them.”
“Fine by me.”
“I’m in too.” Kaya suddenly appeared and joined the conversation. She looked at Jo Minjoon and pouted. “We’ve got someone with an absolute sense of taste right here. We should make proper use of him.”
Kaya’s voice was as rough and clear as ever—loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.
The other contestants turned towards Jo Minjoon as well.
He laughed awkwardly. “I have a small stomach.”
-
The thick red sauce, given body by starch, clung to his tongue.
The heat of the sauce combined with oyster sauce, sending a sweet and provocative aroma from his mouth into his nose. The tofu, softer than the sauce itself, crumbled across his tongue.
The pork foreleg had been cut into long strips. It contained just the right amount of fat and had a pleasant chew. It was neither greasy nor tough.
The breed of pork played some part, but the flavour also clearly reflected the skill of the cook.
But—
“It’s delicious, but I think the ginger is a little too strong. And it’s also too spicy. People who like spicy food will enjoy it, but… you know, right? In this mission, you need as many people as possible to have a positive impression of your dish.”
“…Mm. Then I suppose I should use refined rice wine instead of ginger to get rid of the pork smell. Got it. Thanks. Sorry, but can I ask you one more thing?”
“Sure. Ask.”
“What’s the score?”
At Chloe’s question, Jo Minjoon merely smiled at her.
Chloe flushed in embarrassment.
“I know it’s not a good habit to keep asking for the score. And I know you said the cooking score doesn’t determine the actual value of a dish. But what am I supposed to do? I’m curious.”
“It’s 7 points. It’s not your best, but it’s still delicious.”
“…Mm. I don’t know whether I should feel relieved or disappointed.” Chloe tilted her head uncertainly.
Considering that she had already succeeded in producing several 8-point dishes, it made sense that she would feel both pleased and slightly disappointed.
Of course, whatever came next was something Chloe herself would have to solve.
The other contestants also wanted Jo Minjoon to evaluate their dishes.
Even though this was a competition, they did not feel the need to be stingy about something like this.
Winning because you had performed well meant something.
Winning because someone else had simply made a mistake was not nearly as satisfying.
Especially when actual customers were waiting to eat their food.
Perhaps that attitude was foolish or naive, but Jo Minjoon was not the kind of person who minded.
After evaluating everyone else’s dishes one by one, Jo Minjoon served the dak-galbi he had prepared.
He had simmered chicken thigh meat in a sauce made from olive oil, garlic, ginger, chilli powder, apple juice, ketchup, sugar, apple vinegar, and bean paste, then finished it in the oven.
The cooking score was 7.
Exactly as he had expected.
No matter how many different combinations he tried with the sauce, the estimated score never rose to 8.
Perhaps the day he finally found that inspiration would be the day his cooking level rose to 7.
Or perhaps it was simply a matter of technical skill.
Either way, one thing was certain.
He needed to improve.
“How is it?”
“It’s delicious.”
“It should be. I know it’s a 7-point dish. But something’s missing. What do you think?”
As usual, identifying exactly what was lacking was not easy.
Everyone looked at one another uncertainly, unable to answer.
Then Kaya spoke. “You only used chicken thigh, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then do you really need to simmer it in the sauce from the beginning? Why not prepare and reduce the sauce separately, sear the outside of the meat first, then slowly cook it down in the sauce? I think the texture of the meat would be better that way, and it’d probably taste better too. It’s chicken thigh, after all. You don’t need to make it any softer.”
“That’s true…”
Jo Minjoon’s voice trailed off.
In his head, he began altering the recipe according to Kaya’s suggestion.
And then—
Jo Minjoon froze.
He wondered whether this could really be happening. She had only said a few words. Really, only a handful of words.
[Estimated Cooking Score: 8]
Yet their effect was anything but small.