Chapter 14
Chapter 14
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Meylin's Fiery Gambit
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The atmosphere in the competition hall evoked the intensity of a brutal battlefield.
Amid the heat rising from a hundred stoves, the fishy odors from the fish mingled with the aromas of various spices, spreading everywhere.
The chefs' ragged breaths and the sounds of knives clashing intertwined, creating a suffocating tension.
Yet even in that chaotic pandemonium, there was one notably calm and serene area.
It was the workstation of Dave Potail, marked as the strongest contender for victory.
'Monkfish Liver Terrine. No dish matches the theme better than this.'
He judged coolly.
Monkfish liver, called the foie gras of the sea.
It was a cut that became inedible if even slightly off in freshness, making it the perfect ingredient to demonstrate one's discerning eye.
And the rich, deep flavor of the liver would perfectly pierce the judges' tastes, wouldn't it?
Moreover, with Her Highness the Princess participating in this judging.
It was a menu calculated to be advantageous, opting for something as elegant and delicate as possible.
With precise hand movements, he removed the blood vessels and thin membranes attached to the monkfish liver.
Any leftover blood vessels would cause a fishy smell, and any remaining membrane would ruin the texture.
After focusing all his attention on his fingertips for a few minutes, a perfectly cleaned chunk of liver emerged.
Dave soaked it in white wine, sprinkled it with bay leaves and whole peppercorns, and let it marinate for a bit.
Now he just had to wait for the off-flavors to dissipate, gently steam it in a bain-marie, then chill it thoroughly.
A brief wait.
As he tidied his workstation, he suddenly recalled that rustic girl who had taken his monkfish body.
'Come to think of it, what is she planning to do with that trash?'
Monkfish flesh had a good chewy texture but was bland and faint in flavor.
It didn't suit this mission of selecting fresh ingredients and bringing out their inherent taste.
Dave snorted and glanced sideways at Meylin's station.
His expression hardened instantly.
Sizzle-!
Meylin was pouring oil generously into a heated frying pan and tossing in the bones and skin of the entire monkfish, stir-frying away.
'...Is she insane?'
Dave was appalled.
Bones and skin were the parts of the fish that reeked the most of fishiness.
No matter how thoroughly cleaned, the proper way to extract stock was to simmer slowly from cold water.
Frying them in oil like that would make the fishy smell overpowering, obviously.
'Just a fool after all. A dish from bones and skin? As if the Princess would eat something like that.'
The moment Dave lost interest and turned his head away.
Whoosh-!!!
A massive pillar of fire erupted from Meylin's frying pan.
"Gah! What the hell!"
"Fire!"
It was a flambé so intense that nearby participants recoiled in shock.
Meylin calmly—no, almost joyfully—swung the heavy frying pan around in the flames, stir-frying the ingredients.
All eyes in the competition hall, swept up in that overwhelming spectacle, locked onto Meylin at once.
Even the judges' gazes.
"Hmm... flashy, that's for sure."
Yuria, resting her chin at the judges' table, narrowed her eyes.
"Won't cooking with such intense fire just burn all the ingredients? I heard fish needs delicate handling."
Marquis Frederick, beside her, nodded in agreement at her murmur.
"Indeed, Your Highness. It looks like a shallow ploy to draw attention with performance for extra points."
But among the judges, only one dissented.
Sir James.
He had been continuously observing Meylin, who had shown astonishing skill in the preliminaries, and noticed that what was burning in the flames now was not flesh, but bones and skin.
'...She's burning off the off-flavors. Extracting the juices with high-heat oil instead of water.'
Reading Meylin's intent, James spoke softly.
"...No. Let's watch a bit longer. This might turn into something different from expected."
"Well, if Sir James says so."
I watched the entire scene through the crystal orb, nearly shedding tears of emotion.
A country girl picking up discarded trash ingredients and putting on a blatant fire show.
Followed by the judges' divided reactions!
Even if I wrote the script myself, I couldn't draw a more perfect picture.
"Meylin... you're the best! You're the one keeping this show alive!"
As I raised my voice, spittle flying, Lucia, who was adjusting the magic circuits beside me, shook her head.
"...Is it okay to favor just one person like that? They're all the same participants."
"Hey now! What nonsense is that! Meylin is the pillar of this show, the pillar! My light, my savior Meylin! Please survive as long as possible!"
Lucia's expression twisted subtly, but I ignored it and shouted.
"Crystal orb number 3! Zoom in more on the flames! Crank up the sound too!"
This round wasn't a full 1 hour 30 minutes; it was first-come, first-served judging.
Nothing was worse than overcooked, dried-out fish dishes.
Besides, all participants must have learned a harsh lesson in the preliminaries.
The judges' disguises weren't infinite; as bellies filled and palates dulled, judging grew stricter.
Thus, some participants strategically chose dishes they could finish quickly.
"Done!"
The first to raise his hand was a burly, mountain of a man.
He strode confidently to the judges' table with a plate steaming hot.
"Cod steak."
The thickly sliced cod fillet, grilled golden brown, looked decent enough at first glance.
But the judges' expressions were icy.
The smell wafting from the plate had already told the tale.
Princess Yuria and Marquis Frederick didn't even touch their forks; only Sir James took the tiniest bite.
The instant he chewed the cod, James's brow furrowed deeply.
He spat it into his napkin and rinsed his mouth with water.
A brief silence followed.
As cold sweat soaked the participant's back, Marquis Frederick spoke coldly.
"Do you perhaps know magic?"
"Pardon? Oh, no... I'm just a regular chef."
"Then why did you pick such rotten fish?"
Frederick prodded the cod with his fork.
The flesh, utterly lacking springiness, crumbled flake by flake under the impact.
"Unless you're a necromancer, you couldn't revive fish that's already dead and on the verge of rotting. How about changing careers now? You seem plenty talented for it, loving rotten fish and all."
The participant's face flushed beet red at the merciless roast.
"B-but... there were no good ingredients, so I had no choice..."
"No excuses."
Sir James, scowling fiercely, growled his judgment.
"The ingredients weren't fresh, that's true. But with the right cooking method, you could have salvaged it. Instead of grilling, a stew or soup with strong spices to mask the off-flavors would at least have been edible."
James pushed the plate away with a cold glare.
"You lack both an eye for ingredients and understanding of cooking."
Under the relentless barrage, the participant's head drooped.
Then came Princess Yuria's finishing blow.
"Good work."
A single cold, indifferent phrase.
As the first elimination stumbled out in tears, a grim silence blanketed the hall.
A few participants seemed to have finished their dishes, but none dared step forward.
The judges' standards were far higher and sharper than expected.
As everyone eyed each other warily.
"Finished!"
A bright, cheerful voice shattered the heavy silence from the corner of the hall.
All eyes turned to see Meylin humming a tune as she roughly dumped the contents of her wok onto a plate.
Without hesitation, she marched straight to the judges' table.
"Hello, I'm Meylin!"
With her greeting, a steaming plate of food was set before the judges.
It was monkfish flesh coated in starch and stir-fried like deep-frying, then tossed again in a glossy brown sauce.
Plating?
Nonexistent.
No fancy garnishes or pretty decorations.
However...
Despite the sloppy appearance, the aroma was mind-blowing.
Rich buttery notes, salty sauce fragrance, a hint of spicy spices, and subtle smokiness assaulted the judges' senses.
Marquis Frederick eyed the plate suspiciously before asking Meylin.
"What dish is this?"
"Um... just something I often make at home. If I had to name it, home-style monkfish stir-fry?"
Seeing the girl scratch her head and smile brightly, Frederick let out a hollow chuckle.
"Home-style, huh. Clearly, you focused on the sauce to hide bad ingredients. The aroma is decent, but will the fish's true flavor even come through?"
He dubiously picked up his fork and speared the smallest piece.
Sir James and Princess Yuria beside him also each took a piece with their forks.
Crunch.
Even coated in sauce, the sensation of the batter shattering transmitted clearly to their fingertips.
And the moment all three judges were about to put it in their mouths.
"Cut! Right here!"
I jumped up from my seat and shouted.
"Perfect ending scene! Cut episode 3 right at this moment!"
Lucia, operating the crystal orb, stared at me blankly.
"Cut here?"
"Yeah. Right before they eat! When the sauce is just brushing their lips! Fade to black and slap on a 'To Be Continued Next Episode' subtitle!"
"...Are you actually insane? You have to show their reactions after eating!"
"Heh, you don't get it! It's all business!"
In my thrilled voice, I lectured Lucia on broadcasting techniques.
"What's the one thing people are most curious about? 'Is that fish actually tasty?' That's it! But if you cut right as the judges open their mouths to eat?"
Just imagining it was exhilarating.
In taverns, restaurants, tent theaters.
Hundreds of viewers huddled together, swallowing hard as they watched the screen. The moment their anticipation swelled with 'What the hell does that taste like?', and the screen cuts out?
"The audience will go mad with curiosity. They'll riot for the next episode right away. And... that attention all turns into money."
"...It's like a demon lives in your head."
I brushed off the absurd accusation.
As if a brilliant producer like me was anywhere else.
This was all designed to save the broadcast.
'At this point, it's about time to slip in some PPL.'
I grinned, thinking of the next plan.
Already, the jingle of gold coins seemed to echo in my ears.