Chapter 311 - What Are Chefs Doing with Their Fingers? (2)

Chapter 311 - What Are Chefs Doing with Their Fingers? (2)

The man screamed, hitting the truck with a bang.

"It hurts! You're a chef! What are you doing to a customer?"

"I'm now cracking down on a crazy man like you, a drug seller. If you want to spend like crazy, just beat it to a club or casino. Nobody here wants to see you again!"

Anderson growled in a low voice. The man was not drunk, nor was he on drugs now.

So, Anderson didn't have to show any manners to a sane guy acting recklessly.

With customers around them raising their smartphones at the man's sudden commotion,

Delia next to Min-joon muttered, clicking her tongue, "That's why such an upstart like that guy is disgracing the rich."

"Pardon?"

Min-joon didn't expect her to say that, so he looked at her blankly, as if he couldn't believe it.

But she looked at him curiously and said, "Do you think that guy looks good?"

"Not at all, but I didn't expect you would say that..."

"Are you now telling me I'm a childish rich woman like him?"

"Well, you told me a little while ago that you were a childish rich woman, right? I just believed what you said."

"Oh my… You don't believe what I said about other stuff, but you are now believing this?"

She narrowed her eyes and looked at him. Instead of responding, he looked at Anderson grabbing the man tightly. After struggling desperately, the man eventually gave up, with his shoulders drooping.

Janet sighed and said, "Hey. Just let go of him now."

"No. Call the police."

"Do you want me to call the police?"

"We never know how these guys would act when we let him go like this. So, call the police. They will take care of this guy."

When Anderson said that, Janet turned to Rachel with a worried expression.

Rachel looked at Isaac calmly and said, "Isaac, take care of him."

"Yeah."

Isaac picked up the phone, and shortly afterward, several policemen came up and handcuffed the man's wrist. Was it because of the smell of marijuana from his body? The policemen looked bad.

One of the policemen said, "Shall you go with us for a minute? We need your statement."

"Sure, no problem."

"Shall I go with you?"

Min-joon asked, looking at Janet and Anderson.

Janet shook her head calmly and said, "This isn't a party, Min-joon. What's the point of you and me going to the police station hand in hand? Just stay here."

"Okay. Take care, then."

Min-joon saw them off with a sigh.

Raphael tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Were you surprised?"

"Well, I'm a little exhausted rather than surprised. When we worked at the restaurant, we had no weird customers because we're running on a reservation system, but it's different now."

"Why are you looking at me when you are saying that?" Delia asked, making a frustrated expression.

Instead of replying, Min-joon looked at Raphael and said, "How could you run a food truck business like this? If I meet strange people like this every day, I think I can't do anything because I'm going to be exhausted."

"Actually, this isn't a food truck problem. It's a headache for all the restaurants. If you don't select customers through reservations or if you don't hide behind the kitchen, you'll always encounter this kind of customer."

"You mean this is the headache for all the restaurants?"

"Do you think you know what's going on in the hall?"

When Raphael asked, Min-joon shook his head without thinking about it deeply.

Although they had an open kitchen at Rose Island, it didn't mean they could notice what kind of conversation was going on among the customers and what kind of disturbance they made in the hall. Of course, even if there was any disturbance in the hall, it might be something like a customer turning over a table, but that kind of trouble never happened.

"No, I can't. If I also cared about what's going on in the hall, I won't be able to concentrate on cooking."

"Yeah, that's right. But when you're working on a food truck, you are not only cooking, but you also have to take care of the customers' payment, and you are much closer to them than when you are in the kitchen."

"Do you like it?"

"Well, we would have been much better off if we can divide our problems into what we like and what we don't. As for customers, you might like them or dislike them. You can't help it."

"I guess so. If you dislike them, I don't think you opened a food truck like this in the past. Personally, I admire your pioneering spirit. There are not many who have it."

Min-joon then took out the Kebab that Delia gave her. What he chose was a sous vide-treated turkey breast with spinach marinated in honey and demi-glace sauce, charred onion, Paprika, and jelly spaghetti made with chicken stock.

"As I expected, it's delicious."

It wasn't warm, but the tender taste of the Sous vide-treated turkey's breast was still there.

The condition of the jelly couldn't be better. Its chewy texture tasted like round steak, plus the taste of the broth made him feel he was already full.

"Aren't you going to say thank you?" Asked Delia, who was still standing next to him.

"I already said that earlier."

"A lot of pros are repeating it at least once."

"Oh, thank you."

Anyway, it was true that she bought it for him. So, he expressed gratitude awkwardly then took a bite of Kebab again.

He turned to Raphael and said, "How about your work now? When you started it at first, I guess you were more interested in the food truck itself, but you've got enough experience now. Food truck or restaurant, which place do you think is more suitable for you?"

"Food truck."

"Are you serious?"

"Did you think my answer would be a restaurant?"

"Yeah, I expected so. Anyway, you worked at Rose Island's main store for quite a while. As far as kitchen work is concerned, I've worked in the Rose Island kitchen, but I can't even imagine a more enjoyable kitchen," he said sincerely.

Rose Island was like the sun to him, which he couldn't get used to even if he looked at it every day, so he could barely see the edge of it by frowning.

When there was the sun, he didn't have to pay attention to other stars or moons. And that was one of the reasons he didn't think of leaving Rachel. Rachel's control and her unwavering voice gave him more pleasure than anything else.

"So I thought that after you spent time with Chef Rachel Rose, you also changed your mind. In fact, I was expecting you might feel the same feelings as mine."

"Of course, I feel it. Why do you think I don't feel it? Any chef can feel it. Chef Rachel is great. While I am watching her cooking, I learn more and I get inspiration from her. But I'm just myself. I'll learn something from Chef Rachel, but I don't intend to live as her student."

"Just because you are her student doesn't mean you are giving up your own career, right?"

"You might think so. I'm just saying it from my point of view. Can I be more honest with you? Chef Rachel is so great. She is so great that you have no choice but to be influenced by her. But the problem is the image of the ideal chef that you have been trying to be is getting blurry, and Chef Rachel may take its place. How about you, Min-joon? What's your ideal type of chef before? How about it now?"

In fact, Min-joon had never thought of it. Embarrassed by that unexpected question, he moved his lips up and down. He unconsciously grasped the Kebab wrapper in his hand, which made a rustling noise, followed by silence.

Raphael opened his mouth with a smile, "Think it over. Chef Rachel is great. If you don't focus, you can be swallowed up. Of course, even if you are swallowed up, you won't have a bad result... Well, it depends on your taste."

"Then, are you going to leave her soon?"

At last, he threw the question that he wanted to ask for a long time, but couldn't. Since he now could feel it so strongly in Raphael's attitude, he couldn't help but ask. Raphael blew air into his cheek for a moment then shrugged.

"I haven't come here to stay here for the rest of my life. Someday, I'll leave this place. Then you can take over. So, brush up on your cooking skills well. Let me take a nap in the passenger seat. I'm tired."

Having said that, Raphael got into the truck. When he was watching Raphael blankly, Delia, standing next to them, opened her mouth.

"He is a good chef with good intentions. Why don't you learn from him? How about leaving Rose Island and walking your own path independently?"

"Delia."

"Yeah."

"Aren't you busy?"

Delia said with a smile, "I've been working here for a while now."

***

"Chef, aren't you going?" Deborah asked.

"Oh, go first. Let me enjoy some more afterglow a little more," Raphael said.

"It's nice to see you look so happy. It's been a while since I saw you happy like this. See you tomorrow."

"Have a good night."

"You, too."

Watching the sous chef leaving with a smile, Deborah looked around the kitchen, letting out a sigh. She confirmed the dishes that the customers emptied, which were as clean as the clean kitchen.

'I think I can get a sense of it.'

When she thought so, she smiled naturally. Soon, there was a sound of the door opening from the entrance. Deborah stepped out into the hall with a wary look then smiled as if she felt relieved to see the other person.

"Master!"

"I heard everything went well today. Congratulations!"

"All thanks to you, master."

"You don't have to thank me."

Rachel smiled and pulled a chair in the hall to sit down.

Deborah looked around the kitchen and asked, "Can I get you some snacks?"

"Do you have anything left?"

"It's not something like leftovers, but there's a stack of desserts."

"Okay. I would like coffee with that. Flat white."

"Sure, I'll be back soon."

Deborah brewed an espresso, frothed it with steamed milk, and mixed it with the espresso little by little with a spoon.

'I think I use my hands often these days.'

Aside from working as Rachel's sous chef and working on her cooking today, there wasn't much that Deborah got involved in cooking herself. Of course, when she came up with a new recipe, she made it herself, but for the past several months, she had hardly developed any new recipes because she was in a deep slump.

She came back to Rachel with coffee, brownies, and simple pound cakes and tiramisu.

Rachel opened her mouth in a calm voice.

"Do you think you can keep up with this kind of mood?"

"I'm trying my best."

"That's the key. I'm saying it all the time. A cook is an artist. The moment you can't think of any new recipe, your cooking also goes nowhere."

"Yeah, I keep that in mind."

After she said that, there was silence for a moment. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Deborah was just happy that she could enjoy coffee and desserts with Rachel in a calm atmosphere like this.