God of Cooking

Jasper felt his heart sunk when he heard that. Did she deny it? Was she kidding?

He checked her expression carefully, but she was so serious at the moment.

He felt the urge to ask her if she lied, pretending she didn't make it when she actually did, but the cameramen were shooting the scene right now. No matter how strongly he resisted, he would bring about only scornful booing from the TV viewers.

Jasper asked quietly, "No?"

"I said no. That's the recipe that Havier and Min-joon have developed."

"You have really great disciples, but it's not a recipe that they can develop at that age, right?"

He thought that if he tried to degrade them in the current situation, it would be like him spitting on his own face, causing more humiliation. So, it was more tactful for him to praise them now.

Jasper said slowly, "Well, how can I get it right if you cook like this? Let me start with Chef Rachel's dish"

It was obvious that he wanted to change the topic quickly to get out of his embarrassment. But Rachel and the others noticed a change in his behavior. They also noticed that he was so tense and nervous.

Jasper hurriedly put the meatballs made by Rachel in his mouth. He felt its juicy taste spreading through the meatball cuts in his mouth as if the soy sauce was jellied in a Japanese-style broth.

'Damn it. Did I make a mistake in telling the difference from the beginning?'

But it was too late for him to regret it. The dice was already cast, and he was already inside the enemy's territory. What he had now could be a ticket to heaven or a ticket to hell. In a few minutes, he could be faced with one of two options, namely going down as a third-class gourmet who made irresponsible comments or as a philosophical gourmet who can speak out even before the unrivaled Rachel Rose.

Jasper smiled with an effort and opened his mouth, "Oh, now that I'm tasting this dish, I know for sure what makes the difference. Certainly, this dish now is based on molecular cooking, but it strongly feels like a traditional dish. So, this one is Rachel's dish. I should have given you my review after trying both dishes. I was too hasty."

"Then, are you confident about who has made the next dish?"

"As I told you, I just wanted to point out that there was no clear difference between your dish and Chef Rachel's."

"If you think there's no clear difference, why did you conclude it's Rachel's dish after tasting our demi chefs' dish?"

"Well, let's skip that. I said so because I was too excited at the moment. It's a good moment now, isn't it? A gourmet and a cook had met like this. One loves to eat, while the other one loves to cook. Wouldn't it be nice for us to enjoy eating rather than feeling bad about each other?"

It wasn't Jasper who first took issue with their dish. Rachel sighed deep down.

She thought he was a principled gourmet because he confidently challenged her.

'What an immature little gourmet!'

She felt like she was a fool dealing with such crap. Probably, she would not have responded to his provocative challenge if she had not seen Min-joon feeling hurt.

As they said, there was nothing greater than a chef's love for his or her students. In fact, it had been several decades since Rachel trained them, but she could not believe she was still training them. She whispered to her demi chefs, "I'm sorry. You guys spent 15 days developing your own recipe only to get treated like this."

"Well, we don't discriminate against our customers, Master Rachel."

"The problem is some of them don't come here as a guest. In that case, you have to serve them a different dish from that for the real customers. You will feel that way when you deal with gourmets."

Honestly, Min-joon could not believe it. There were a few gourmets who had never been favorable to him, who was one of the gourmets' favorite chefs.

Then came out the main. The first dish was an emulsion made from green curry and goat cheese, and crispy sea bream, and the next one was a chunk of meat that looked like a small piece of human lungs.

Jasper asked with admiration, "Is this a new baby bird?"

"It's a baby pigeon. I baked it in a pan. The savory cabbage next to it was seasoned with salt made with truffles and black garlic. Would you like to guess what's on the side? I think you like this kind of game," Rachel asked in a relaxed voice.

Faced with an unexpected question, Jasper looked nervously at the pigeon dish.

The savoy cabbage and pigeons were covered with a reddish-brown sauce.

He raised the spoon with a nervous expression.

'I can feel the chewy texture of mushrooms and meat. Oh, it's stew. Yeah, I enjoyed it before. I wonder what it was…'

With a lot on his mind, he could not figure it out, but he just felt amazed at the great taste.

At first, I didn't think this test was that complicated. It didn't matter whether he could guess it right or not because if something went wrong, he was ready to challenge by taking issue with the way they treated him.

'Dang it, I wish I had not pretended to tell the difference from the beginning.'

He was overly confident that his first pick was Rachel's, but he was wrong. He might have come up with a different conclusion if he had tried Rachel's and her demi chefs' at the same time, but it was meaningless for him to regret his misjudgment even now.

"Jasper?"

"Ah, ah! Yes. I was just thinking about it. I know a French dish similar to this one. Salon?"

"Well, there are lots of stews everywhere, but you guessed it right anyway, though you didn't name it. It's called a salmi. It's a dish made by roasting bird meat and slicing it before boiling it again."

"I know. It's one of my favorite dishes."

"Oh, I see. I thought you didn't like it because you can't remember its name."

When she said that, he smiled then said feebly, "I'm sorry. I've forgotten the name."

"I'm sorry to hear that. You're still young. Just enjoy it."

"Oh, sure."

More and more embarrassed, Jasper cut the pigeon meat this time. He ate it with meat or mushrooms and a little bit of soy sauce. To his chagrin, he had to admit that all the dishes at Rose Island were so delicious that it was enough to make him forget all the humiliation and ordeal he went through today.

"How does it taste?"

"Delicious! The taste of the pigeon marinated in the sauce and the one simply roasted makes a great contrast on my tongue. I can feel the chef's seasoned experience in it…"

Having said that, he realized he used the same expression when he was commenting on Havier and Min-joon's dish. So, he hastily wrapped up by adding, "It's great. I've got nothing more to say than it's great."

"Then, can you tell which is mine and which is theirs."

"As you know, I made a mistake earlier, so let me try both this time first."

Rachel smiled at him cynically. Obviously, he was on edge. There was nothing more despicable than seeing a rookie like him boasting of himself.

Wiping the sweat off his forehead, he tried the next dish.

'This one is also a traditional dish…'

He thought the emulsion on the plate had some mix of molecular cooking, but it was closer to a traditional dish. It was steak with a modern flair that young people would love. It tasted clean and deep as if he saw a work of art like a house built in a modern way rather than a dish.

When he put it in his mouth, its savory texture was the best one could hope for. A crispy skin baked in oil with flour and a soft chewy texture tasted so delicious.

Besides, the green curry was also excellent. He had mixed feelings of joy and anger when the rich Indian scent touching his mouth was mixed with the European sensibility of goat cheese.

'What the heck? I just can't figure out which one is Rachel's dish.'

He would not have felt so frustrated like now if the served dishes were as good as those served at any good restaurants. But the two dishes he enjoyed were excellent enough to match the reputation of Rose Island, the best restaurant with three stars in the United States.

"How about it? So, did you find out who made it?"

He just moved his lips without answering her question. He thought the demi chefs could not make the pigeon dish, given its rich flavor that only a seasoned chef could make. But he remembered he was humiliated by guessing wrong a little while ago.

But he had to tell them the difference now. Watching the two plates one by one, he finally pointed his fingers at something almost in the middle of the two plates. But the tip of his finger was clearly pointing at the fish dish.

Rachel grinned at him and asked, "Do you think you got it right?"

"Well, I think it doesn't matter if I get it right or wrong."

"I don't think so. It's important because you took issue with it and commented about our restaurant in your blog."

"What I said at that time…."

"Oh, let me tell you who made it. Unfortunately, I didn't make that dish either. Our demi chefs made it all."

Jasper knew he was now in the worst situation, so he didn't feel disappointed at her comment.

Turning his eyes away from her, he said, "Are you sure all dishes here were developed by your demi chefs?"

"Do you think I'm lying to you?"

"No, what I mean is you must have coached them, right? Even if your demi chefs developed their recipes, they need to go through your review and approval. In other words, you're also responsible for the dish. It's like your dish. That's what I mean."

At that moment, Maya burst into laughter. However, no one blamed her because others felt the same way.

Rachel opened her mouth as if she was dumbfounded by his ridiculous logic.

"Then, why did you point out the fact that the demi-chefs here made dishes according to my instruction? According to your logic, they could make it because of my guidance, so they are my own dish, right? Any problem?"

"You're right…" Jasper replied with an embarrassed expression.

He was so embarrassed and ashamed that he didn't know what he was talking about. His face turned white with beads of sweat flowing from his forehead.

Then he clapped his hands as if it were really fun. Then he covered his face and giggled.

When his laughter sounded like sobbing, he took off his hands.

With a runny nose and tearful eyes, he said in a frightened voice like a child who broke a neighbor's window, "Please forgive me…"