God of Cooking

Chapter 113: Chapter 113: Scale of Victory (1)

Chloe breathed in and out. Her hair was tied up with a floral handkerchief, and the way she wore her white apron looked a little outdated, and Joanne, who was standing next to her, looked strange. Joanne liked the fashion style from the 1920s. Of course, people said the 1920s was a fashionable decade, but that was back then.

She wore a striped t-shirt, a brown cardigan, and a brown felt floppy hat. She looked like someone from that era. If she had done the mission in that outfit, it would have been quite the sight, but that didn’t happen. They looked at the chef uniforms that the producers handed them and dropped their heads.

“I wanted to be fashionable for my last show.”

“Me too.”

“How about you go on a modeling show next time?”

“I’m probably too short to qualify.”

In response to Cho Min Joon’s joke, Chloe answered in a serious voice. Perhaps, she dreamt of becoming a model once. Kaya scanned the chef’s uniform and opened her mouth.

“Ours is better than theirs.”

Kaya’s team’s chef uniform was black. On the other hand, Anderson’s team was white. In order to see stains, white chef uniforms were best, but black chef uniforms looked cooler… because it made one look thinner.

Once they got changed and gathered, Kaya opened her mouth. She no longer seemed like the troublemaker she was before. Her voice was calm, quiet, and warm.

“Thank you, everyone. Thank you for all your hard work in the last 6 days, and thank you for going along with my ways. I’ll make sure to win. No…”

Kaya breathed in and out. She then spoke as if she was making a promise, “Let’s win this thing.”

Everyone responded with a smile. It seemed as though Kaya had grown the most in the competition.

Not in terms of her cooking abilities, but as a person. Of course, others had grown as well. It was a competition that helped one grow. In a short period of time, they had to make all sorts of food. There were times when they had to work together with strangers and make dishes with people they had never met before. It was impossible not to grow in that situation.

They all walked toward the kitchen with determination. They had no reason to be nervous since they weren’t the ones competing but they still were. Famous chefs were watching. They had to make a good impression on them.

Most importantly, they wanted to help Kaya win. After all, they were a team. There wasn’t a single person who felt jealous that she was there instead fo them. Not them.

They noticed something different when they entered the kitchen. The divider between the hall and the kitchen was gone. That meant that the chefs were going to watch them cook. Chloe clenched her fists. Her hands weren’t sweating, but her heart was pounding. So much that it hurt every time she breathed.

But it was a good kind of nervousness. It was uplifting, and that didn’t only apply to Chloe. It was like that for everyone. It wasn’t just an average open kitchen. They were going to cook in front of the best chefs in America. They had to prove themselves.

Cho Min Joon breathed in deeply. He felt all sorts of emotions. Nervousness, anticipation, excitement. But once he breathed out, all the emotions left as well. And only one thing remained. It wasn’t the determination to win. It was the determination to save Kaya, and the determination was strong.

‘Let’s make delicious food.’

It was simple but hard to do. Whether it was Western food, Korean food, or Chinese food, it all led to the same objective. Taste. They had to pour their entire lives into this food.

‘No, it’s not my life that I should put into it this time.’

It was Kaya’s recipe. Kaya’s thoughts. It was Kaya’s imagination and cooking. In that case, the dishes had to contain Kaya’s colors. Then what was it that he had to do? Did he have to follow the recipe like a machine? That wasn’t what he believed in the last 6 days. What did he have to do to produce the best outcome? What mindset did he need when making the food of someone else?

The answer came from music. To be more exact, classical music. When he listened to Mozart’s violin sonata number 3, he felt inspired.

And he had one simple thought cross his mind.

‘Hillary is the best at performing Mozart.’

Classical music sounded different depending on who was conducting and who was playing the instruments, and interpreting a song wasn’t just about feeling. It was about the movement of the bow, the tension of the bow, the length, and the rhythm. All of those things contained a musician’s colors, and that was what made the difference.

But that didn’t mean people could say it wasn’t Mozart. In the end, the melody was the same.

Kaya’s recipe was sheet music to her. In that case, what he had to do was understand the music and the composer, so he wondered what kaya was trying to express with the langoustine. What was she trying to serve? What kind of flavors was she trying to produce?

He researched and analyzed. He then understood. The flavour that Kaya wanted to produce. To be more exact, what kind of vibe she wanted.

All he could do now was present it perfectly. After that, Kaya would receive the evaluation. And depending on how perfectly she cooked, the evaluation would change. But Cho Min Joon believed in Kaya’s recipe. Not because the system gave it a high score. It was because he had watched her and tasted her cooking all this time.

The judges were standing at the cooking stations. Joseph spoke in a calm voice, “Tonight, chefs from all around this country will fill these tables. Are you ready to satisfy their tastebuds?”

“Yes.”

Kaya answered without hesitation. Joseph looked at her with surprise.

“You seem more confident than usual. I thought you’d be nervous.”

“I don’t want to make a mistake because I’m nervous.”

“Sounds good. Please stay calm and collected. Anderson, are you all right?”

“I’m even more calm than Kaya.”

Anderson spoke in a stiff voice as if he didn’t want to lose. But compared to Kaya, he looked nervous. Allan spoke in an emotionless voice, “Don’t forget. You’re not alone right now. You have colleagues that you must lead. Don’t think about the competition. The customers will be here soon. I trust that you’ll impress them.”

Anderson closed his mouth. He dind’t want to act like a fool in the most decisive moment. And right now, this was his most important moment.

The mission began.

***

Three chairs were placed at each table. Some thought even numbers were best, but when it came to chatting around food, the triangular arrangement was ideal. It was easier to focus on the food, and at the same time, they could look at the others around the table.

But there was one table that was different. It was the table for New York and California. There were 50 states in America. And one person from Washington D.C. That meant each table should have 3 people each, but at their table, only two people sat. The man from New York stroked his chin and asked, “How is it that the man that lives in Chicago, Illinois is late?”

“People who live the closest are always the last to arrive. You know how it is.”

“Him being late isn’t the issue. I can’t even eat a Chicago-style pizza while I’m here. I can’t believe this.”

In response to New York’s grumbling, California laughed. Her former mentor still had an unsophisticated taste like before.

“Even if it’s Chicago-style pizza, it’s just a lump of cheese in the end. Why do you want to eat that?”

“Try eating uppity New York food all the time. You’ll miss food with that kick. The only reason why you can say that is because you’re from California.”

“But you’re the one making that kind of uppity food.”

“It’s hard to enjoy the food that you make. The best food is made by somebody else.”

“… I’m not going to let you take my plate.”

In response to California’s defensive voice, New York scoffed. He then looked back at the kitchen.

“He’s Favio and Amelia’s son, right?”

“Yes.”

“Seeing from his cocky face, genetics didn’t fail them.”

“But he’s good-looking with a good build. He’s masculine.”

“… He’s young enough to be your son. Don’t look at him like that.”

“You’re exaggerating! More like a nephew. There isn’t even a 20-year difference, and I never looked at him like that! My son is entering elementary school this year! He’s not that big!”

California defended herself. New York slowly looked around instead of replying.

“Oh, that must be Maya.”

“… Do you mean Kaya?”

“Oh, yeah. Kaya. When you get to my age, it’ll all start sounding similar.”

“You’re better off just saying you got mixed up… Whatever. How does the kitchen look?”

“Messy.”

“In what way?”

“I don’t like that they handed the gazpacho to that ugly Texas guy’s table instead of mine.”

“… Okay, what else?”

“They’re not noisy enough. Can they even hear anything if they’re that focused?”

Not many people could be that focused to begin with. California looked at them with a straight face that didn’t seem very convinced.

“Is there anyone you want to take with you?”

“Anderson. He would be a fine sous chef. Once I teach him a few things, he can probably handle the head chef position, too. Also…”

New York trailed off. Kaya brought her cart and served them gazpacho. New York looked at Kaya and asked, “You’re from New York, right? Which market?”

“The Southern Free Market.”

“Oh, the prices there are good, but it lacks sanitation.”

“Then go to a place that’s more expensive but more sanitary.”

“Can I trust that this gazpacho is sanitary?”

“It’s probably a little dirty because of your spit.”

Kaya finished serving the gazpacho, and after staring blankly at her, New York smirked.

“Enjoy.”

Kaya moved on to the next table. New York spoke in a sad voice, “Young ones these days have no manners.”

“That’s true, but it’s also true that you’re an ill-tempered senior. Back in the day… Never mind, you were like this back then, too.”

New York didn’t answer. He took a bite of the gazpacho. At that moment, the look in his eyes changed.

“It tastes clean.”

“Hm, you’re right. It’s delicious. But then again, it’s hard for gazpacho to taste bad. But it’s good. The watermelon flavor is stronger than usual…”

“It’s a good start.”

Anderson’s team’s dishes hadn’t come out yet. There were 50 customers. Even if they had a 5-man team, it was hard to produce great quality for 50 customers. The most a typical kitchen could handle without suffering in quality was 30 customers, and that was only possible with recipes that the kitchen was familiar with.

So the chefs were split into two, taking turns eating dishes from each team. In their case, they had to eat Kaya’s team’s dishes first.

At that moment, the chef from Illinois arrived. The white-haired man smiled and sat down.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

“There’s nothing left for you.”

“That’s not fair.”

Illinois picked up his spoon with a smile. New York spoke with an annoyed face, “This is too good to give to a late student.”

“If you say it like that, it must be really good.”

“The ingredients are good. They didn’t use anything too ripe. I think they’ve been aged quite a bit.”

“Is there time to age anything in a mission?”

“I heard they aged some of the ingredients starting yesterday. Like the bread batter. That’s good for us. That means we can eat properly made food.”

Their gazpachos were cleared in no time. Kaya approached to clear their plates and served them the langoustine that Cho Min Joon made. Kaya calmly offered a description of the langoustine.

“It’s served with buttermilk puree and carrot puree. On top is buttermilk foam. We sauteed the langoustine and then grilled one side. Please notice the difference in flavor between the two sides.

“It’s beautiful.”

Illinois spoke in awe. It looked perfect on the outside, but that was not what he meant. It was the combination of the puree as well as how the langoustine was cooked. Illinois tasted it with some puree and smiled.

“Your recipe is impressive, and I’m impressed by your colleague for recreating it perfectly.”

“Thank you. Cho Min Joon made the langoustine.”

“Oh… That young man. He’s the one with the perfect palate, right?”

“Yes. Also…”

Kaya smiled shyly.

“He’s a chef I look up to the most.”