God of Cooking Chapter 204 - 36 Head Chefs’ Courtship (7)

Chapter 204: 36 Head Chefs’ Courtship (7)

The reason why he didn’t go to other restaurants more often was because he didn’t have time to do so. It was not because his restaurant was open all year round, for it was closed on Sundays.
For the head chef, however, a holiday wasn’t like a holiday. Time passed, and gourmets wished there would be a change in the menu at least once a month. To meet their demands, he had to struggle with developing a new menu all day long even on holidays.
Because of this, it was not for a holiday at all for him to visit other restaurants. His visit was for the purpose of spying on their menu and analyzing it, such as how they served, how they used new methods in plating, what ingredients were cooked in what way, etc. This was possible because he basically loved cooking, but at the same time, he felt exhausted.
So, Dave liked this moment so much. He carefully put the steamed monkfish with caviar in his mouth. And only when he put it in his mouth, he realized that the caviar on the steamed monkfish wasn’t real caviar. Was it the source created through the concretization technique?
The scent of olive spread gently, and beyond that, he could feel the ingredients that he couldn’t even guess. Interestingly, it didn’t hurt the scent of the steamed monkfish in any way. It was easy to say that the scent went together, actually, it was really hard work. But it was there in this dish, and it was perfect at that. It was also very perfect. Dave smiled lightly.
“Well, when I try this dish, I feel like I’ve always thought of cooking as my homework. After all, our master is the best. She teaches us so critically, but at the same time, she makes us so happy when we are cooking, right?”
“… I know that, but can my customers feel the same way?”
“If you make a dish with fish, whatever you end up with is a fish dish, after all. Likewise, if we make a dish happily, can’t we make a dish that makes our customers happy, too? Deborah, be confident! When customers visit your store, they don’t say, ‘Oh, this is just a one-star restaurant, which is worse than a two-star or a three-star restaurant.’ They just think it’s a good restaurant ranked one star.”
“Thank you for comforting me. But I don’t feel comforted at all.”
After steamed monkfish, the next dish was a creamy bisque soup served with foie gras sous vide and grilled asparagus. It was arguably a dish with the biggest share of molecular cooking among the dishes that were served so far.
Dave looked into the kitchen. In the open kitchen, Min-joon was controlling the complicated molecular cooking machines. At first glance, it was a futuristic landscape in which he seemed to be a scientist rather than a chef.
‘I hear he was here less than three months…’
It wasn’t easy for him to get used to molecular cooking like that in less than three months.
Of course, what Min-joon actually did was just cooking and supervising cooks, but that was great because he could handle it all with less than three months of experience.
“I think that guy is really smart.”
“He attended a college for a short period of time but dropped out. So, I think he must be really smart.”
“If I had attended college, would I have been as smart as him? How come he didn’t make any mistake while dealing with complicated stuff like that?”
There were two ways of reducing mistakes in the kitchen—a chef’s seasoned experience or concentration. Perhaps, Min-joon had the power of concentration, for it was impossible for even a genius to be so skilled in a short period of time.
Deborah sighed. Then she muttered as if she envied Min-joon, “Whatever you do, I think you have to be really smart in order to stand out. The difference between a smart person and a dumb person is really big.”
“Don’t worry, no one would say that a one-star head chef is not smart.”
“… Well, I’m not saying I’m a dumb chef.”
Dave just ignored Deborah’s complaining, and enjoyed the scent of foie gras.
In fact, the foie gras he tasted was almost like a savory oily mass. The question was how to complete the rich oily scent by mixing it with which ingredients. He found the answer was bisque cream and asparagus in this dish.
“Mix of vegetables, seafood, and meat…”
“Aside from vegetables, seafood and meat aren’t quite a common mix, are they? But they are a good match, though.”
“Come to think of it, I haven’t tried even this these days. I mean, a minor mix. In fact, I’ve been chasing dishes that everyone can like well…” Dave muttered bitterly.
When a chef became a 3 star, he or she didn’t achieve all, but it was the beginning of a real fight. Whenever the re-examination season came, every day was a series of tension to the chef.
So, when the number of his stars went down, the chef could not be more disappointed.
Even those customers who made favorable comments about the food often changed their attitude overnight and spoke ill of the chef after having a bite of it, arrogantly saying, “Well, I think I can understand why the chef’s star fell.”
Deborah said nothing to Dave. If she could do as she pleased, she wanted to argue with him why a three-star chef like him was trying to act like the protagonist of the tragedy in front of her, but she didn’t. After all, one could not compare the magnitude of one’s worry with that of others.
What came out next was pasta. Interestingly, this pasta didn’t involve any molecular cooking techniques. Deborah’s spaghetti was rolled in chopsticks, and on the top of the spaghetti was steamed and deep-fried sea bream tied with green onions. The sauce was sea bream broth puree.
Dave’s Fusilli was as wide as a basketball, but the groove for food was on a plate that was less than a fist. Each layer of peeled-off artichoke was wrapped around the grain of each fusilli, and olive puree was sprinkled next to it, perhaps for decoration.
It was the first whole authentic dish. The moment Dave and Deborah put it in their mouth respectively, they realized something.
Dave said with admiration, “Definitely, Anderson is also great. He’s great, even considering he’s a Rose Island demi-chef.”
“You bet. As far as his cooking skills are concerned, we can’t expect anything more.”
Pasta was a dish that required the dexterity of the person who cooked it directly more than the head chef. And they couldn’t find any flaws in Anderson’s pasta. Of course, all the other dishes he made were flawless. He had a masterly touch in cooking. The chewy texture of the noodles, the saltiness embedded in the broth, and the ingredients were perfectly mixed without any overcooking.
“Without Min-joon, this guy would have been a direct rival of ours.”
“These days, there seems to be quite a few young geniuses. In the past, I only had to compete with those who were the same age or older than me, but nowadays, I have to compete with even younger kids. Man, it’s getting tough…”
After they finished the dish, a sherbet to rinse their mouth was given to them then the main came out. The main was also flawless. The steamed ox head had a chewy texture of gelatin, and it perfectly removed the smell of the fat unique to the ox head.
But the best of the main was the duck leg confit that Deborah ordered. The fluffy texture that felt like it wasn’t meat at all stimulated their lips and tongue just like elastic noodles, and the diluted sauce based on soy sauce added a salty flavor without spoiling the taste of the duck.
Deborah, who closed her eyes, relishing in a brief aftertaste, slowly opened her mouth.
“It’s the main, but if this is confit, it’s actually a sous vide. Who made it? Min-joon or Havier?”
“Do you want to find out who did it? Whoever made it, it’s great. It was a really good dish.”
Shortly afterward, desserts ordered separately were placed in front of them. The first one was a candied apple on top of a tart with ice cream cooled with nitrogen over it. And next to it was a strawberry tiramisu.
“I felt it when I ate bread before a meal. The patissier is really no joke. I think she must be very popular among lots of customers with excellent skills like this. I just wonder how come she was working in a bakery by herself until Ms. Rachel scouted her.”
“I guess she refused. Rachel’s proposal meant a lot to her, and even Jack, her father…”
Right at that moment, Deborah turned her head. Her eyes met someone else’s, who was staring at her from the next table. To be precise, she was fixing her eyes on the dessert.
Deborah smiled and spoke, “Hey. Would you like to eat this? It’s really delicious.”
“My mother told me not to disturb adults…”
“You’re not disturbing me. Come on.”
Deborah scooped the strawberry tiramisu with a fork and gave it to the girl.
Ella curled her hair as if she hesitated, but she came, holding her hands tightly.
She had a bite of it and trembled with a bashful smile.
“Is it delicious?”
“Yes, it’s so delicious! My mom made this?”
“Yes. You have a good mom.”
Deborah smiled at her. She didn’t say it out of courtesy. Rachel’s disciples were a very good dream team, even considering the history of the HQ restaurant. Whatever they wanted, they could make the best dishes.
At that moment, Rachel came out of the kitchen. She smiled calmly, wiping sweat from her forehead.
“Well, I hope I have not disappointed you with my clumsy cooking as a retired chef. Of course, I don’t want to believe it. How about it? I hope you guys had a great time. Did you?”
Actually, they didn’t have to respond. They ate various dishes. They enjoyed the food, and they learned. The demi chefs’ overwhelming perfection instilled in them a sense of goal rather than that of deprivation, and at the same time, they learned what they should pursue.
‘I wish I could stand with them in that kitchen again…’
When was the last time they regretted finding themselves bound by the head chef title? Someone clapped. It wasn’t that loud. He clapped his hands so gently that it was just audible to everyone. The sound of his clapping was just soft.
But it was enough to prompt them to follow suit. The 36 head chefs clapped their hands toward Rachel and her kitchen all at once.
Their applause was in return for her teaching, as well as one to celebrate their master’s return, and one of cheers.
Their applause didn’t stop until the fire of their renewed passion and enthusiasm in their hearts flickered away.