God of Cooking

"You have been into it for several days, Min-joon. How long are you going to do it?"

Kaya shook her head as if she was sick and tired of what Min-joon was doing at the moment. She felt even strange when he spread clay instead of food on the plate and kneaded it.

She put her arm around his neck and reached out her hand over the clay.

"Do you get the feel simply by fondling the clay?"

"If you use real ingredients, it costs too much. I should save money."

"Ask that person to support you. Who is that person? Jeff?"

"Jefferson. His nickname is probably Jeff. But don't call him Jeff."

"Why?"

"I don't like you calling somebody by his nickname."

Kaya smiled at that and pinched his cheek.

As if it was fun, she snorted and opened her mouth.

"Man, you still have the smell of a baby."

"Stop it. How would you plate it up?"

"Don't you mind if I help you?"

"When I see my limit, it's best to hold onto someone else's hand."

"Didn't you tell me that it's meaningful only when I broke the wall myself?"

"Well, it depends on the situation."

She tickled his ribs at his shameless reply. At that moment, he twisted, and the plate fell.

Clink!

With a sharp sound, the plate hit the marble floor and shattered.

He looked at Kaya with a weary expression. She took off her arms around his neck and avoided his gaze, standing at attention. But she couldn't keep turning away from his eyes.

She quickly glanced at him only to find him staring at her.

She said, with her shoulders drooping, "My mistake. Sorry."

"That's fine."

"Let me clear it up."

"Just bring me a plastic bag and gloves."

"Okay."

She could not retort anymore, so she hastily brought a plastic bag and gloves, but she realized that something was strange. He was looking at the shattered plate intensely. She carefully peeked over his shoulder.

"What's up? What are you doing now?"

"Oh, it's just nothing."

He hit upon something the moment the plate was shattered to pieces, but even before he could figure it out, it disappeared from his mind. He picked up the broken pieces of plate, feeling rather uncomfortable as if he had to stop in the middle of sneezing. And he was consumed with such feelings for several days, so much so that Ella, who was lying on his lap, stood up and gave him her jelly.

"Uncle, try this."

"Why are you giving it to me all of a sudden?"

"Because you look hungry, uncle. No?"

"I'm not really hungry…"

"Eat anyway. I want to give it to you."

"Oh, thank you."

Min-joon smiled and held out his hand to grab the jelly on her palm. The jelly on her small, plump palm looked so pretty. At that moment, he stopped putting his hand on it.

She tilted her head with a puzzled expression, "What's the problem?"

"Ella, can you keep holding it like this for a minute?"

"My arm hurts…"

"Let me support it from below."

He placed his hand under her elbow and looked at her hand silently. Does that jelly have a plate or not? Although she supported it with her hand, could it be called a plate?

But that jelly didn't have a plate the size of her hand. When it was put on that hand, the jelly looked the prettiest and most delicious. He slowly picked up the jelly. Then he put it in his mouth and chewed it. The sweet taste of blueberry-flavored jelly slowly stimulated his tongue.

She asked him with anticipation, "Does it taste delicious?"

"Yes, it's so delicious."

"Would you like another one?"

"No thanks. It's yours, Ella."

"You gave me a lot of snacks, too."

"So, you want to give me more like this, Ella?"

Yes, my mother told me I should give anybody back as much as I received from them."

"How kind it is of you to do what your mother said!"

Min-joon pinched her cheek a bit. She nodded, smiling brightly.

He said in a calm voice, "Ella, you just gave me something bigger than you think. So, you don't have to think you should give me anything."

"What did I give to you?"

"Your hand."

"What? You shouldn't eat my hand."

"Of course not!" Min-joon replied quickly with a smile, when she responded, a bit scared.

What he just realized wasn't something unusual. It was the importance of the bowl. He realized that putting the same dish on a different plate could make people feel different about the food, depending on which plate he should put it.

'Then, which plate should I use?'

Now it was time for him to ponder over the matter. He was about to think about it deeply when he heard the sound of a car engine in the parking lot. Someone opened the door and came in. He stood up from his seat in surprise when he saw that person.

"Deborah?"

"Ah, Min-joon. It's been a while since we last met."

"What business brought you here? How about your restaurant?"

"It was burned, and I went bankrupt."

Min-joon suddenly got serious when she made a shocking confession.

But she immediately smiled and shook her hand.

She said, "Oh, I was kidding. Don't look at me like that. My kitchen was a bit old, so I'm renovating it right now. Besides, I'm also changing its interior. Where is Master Rachel? Is she in the office right now?"

"No, my noodle maker got sick, so she went out to see him. Didn't you contact her before coming here?"

"No, I just stopped by here to surprise her. In fact, even if she saw me, she would react casually, saying something like 'What's up?' Oh, dear! Hi, Ella? You are eating something delicious!"

Deborah kindly spoke to Ella. Thanks to her, Min-joon was freed from Ella for a moment. He headed to the kitchen then took out all the bowls in the kitchen. He stared at them seriously. Maya asked him with a puzzled look, "Chef, what are all these?"

"Remember the Cassoulet dish I made last time? I want to see if there is any plate on which I can express it sensibly."

"Do you really have to make it? It's too complicated."

"I told you you didn't have to worry because we are not going to make it anyway."

"Oh, you're right. But when we make a sample dish, we have to make it anyway, right? Can't we make another dish?"

He did not answer. It was the moment Maya let down her shoulders with a sigh.

Deborah's voice was heard from behind his back.

"Are you agonizing over the plate?"

"Oh, yes. If I put Cassoulet on the menu, I want a plate that can make our customers admire its great plating."

"Ah, got it. Hmmm… Min-joon, were you good at drawing a picture as a student?"

"Well, sort of. I think I got an A grade sometimes."

"Then it won't be a big problem. Don't worry. You'll be able to solve it quite soon. It means you have a sense of plating."

"Do you mean I'm good with my hands?"

"No, what I mean is your ability to distinguish between pretty and not pretty."

Deborah quietly looked into the plates then said in a calm voice, "I think I told you I did my best to get a Michelin Two Star, but I didn't."

"Yeah, I remember."

"I don't think I didn't get it because my dish didn't taste good. If the food served at a Michelin one-star restaurant doesn't taste delicious, it's weird. But all the criteria they evaluate is not necessarily related to taste. Honestly, it's hard for them to be subjective about it. So they're looking into the fun and old fashion of the interior, as well as the serving level of the servers, and even the geographic location of the target restaurant. Of course, they do pay attention to the plating of your dish. Min-joon, are you the first generation who immigrated to America?"

"Nope. I've lived only in South Korea for decades."

"There's a difference between the East and the West. They put the greatest value on taste in the East. The interior of the restaurant and its service is no more than additional options. But they are different in the West. They are a bit tricky. They look into not only the plate but also the joy and pleasure that comes along with the restaurant they visit. So, the answer to your agony is one of the two. One option is just to make your dish overwhelmingly delicious, so your customers can forget about the shortcomings of your dish. The other option is to make up for your shortcomings gradually, so your customers won't find fault with you. Which option would you prefer?"

Min-joon pondered over it for a moment. She was asking him which he wanted to focus on, namely taste or plating.

He opened his mouth slowly.

"I was asked about the same thing before. I don't remember what I said at that time, but this is what I think right now."

He said in a serious voice, which made her nervous.

"Can't I do both?"

"Wow, you are greedy!"

She clicked her tongue as if she was dumbfounded.

With an embarrassed expression, he scratched the back of his head.

"Don't you think so? Do you mean I have to give up one thing to get another?"

"I'm not saying you have to give up. What I mean is you have to focus on one thing."

It looked like she was punning, but he understood what she was trying to say because giving up was different from focusing on one skill.

Suddenly, Min-joon thought of Rachel. Maybe she might have experienced the same thing, which complicated his thoughts all of a sudden.

"Which cooking area do you think you are most talented, Min-joon? You must have one. For example, Soup, pasta, molecular cooking, plating, cutting, cooking with fire."

"Hmm… I don't think I'm good at plating."

"Well, I think your biggest merit in cooking is plating."

"Pardon?"

He looked at her with an absurd expression. His decoration level was 6. Although decoration was a field that required extreme delicacy, he could not afford to claim a high score at this point. But Deborah just said he had great strength in plating.

Obviously, she didn't crack a joke.

When he looked at her inquisitively, she said calmly, "What do you think of plating or decoration in cooking?"

"Well, I don't know…"