Chương 123: Vincent's Last Lesson

Two months remained before the Selection — not long, not short. Chris didn't resign from Le Château right away. He understood clearly that spending these two months in Le Château's high-pressure, exacting environment was the best training he could get. He needed to hone his fundamentals here to the extreme. At the same time, he began using the system to prepare for the coming Selection. Though the Arena module couldn't show the detailed profiles of the other seven candidates, it offered a macro-level data analysis.

Chris found that the system, drawing on each candidate's public record, media reviews, and industry reputation, had generated a simple ability radar chart for every one of them. The eight charts were like eight monsters of different shapes. Ethan Cole's chart was a near-perfect hexagon: technique, consistency, innovation, knowledge, mental fortitude — nearly every axis maxed out. His only weak point was "teamwork," a touch shorter than the rest. It matched Chris's impression of him exactly.

Besides Ethan, one other name drew Chris's particular attention. Kira Watanabe. A Japanese-American woman's name. The system's tag: San Francisco, head chef of the Japanese-American fusion restaurant "Shizuku," 28. Her ability radar chart was a very strange shape. Her "creativity" and "flavor understanding" axes shot past the boundary of the hexagon, like two sharp horns, reaching an astonishing S-tier. Her "technical consistency" and "traditional technique," by contrast, were relatively ordinary — only A-minus.

Beneath her profile, the system had attached a line from the critics:"The most spiritually gifted young chef on the West Coast. Her cooking sings not with the hands, but with the soul." Sings with the soul… Chris looked at the line and felt a slight headache coming on. What he feared least was a technique-driven opponent like Ethan. Because technique could be analyzed, taken apart, chased down. Given enough time and training, he was confident he'd lose to no one.

But what he dreaded most was exactly this kind of "spiritual," creativity-type genius. People like this thought in ways that ran wild, playing completely against the rules. Their work often couldn't be predicted by logic. In an assessment like "Extreme Creativity," a competitor like this was the biggest variable. Chris quietly filed the name Kira Watanabe, alongside Ethan Cole, as a top-priority threat. The remaining five candidates were all elites from top restaurants in America's major cities.

A molecular-cuisine prodigy out of Chicago; a master of Latin tropical flavors out of Miami; an expert from Seattle hailed as the "poet of seafood"… each with a style and a weapon all their own. Looking at the profiles, Chris felt for the first time, viscerally, that there were people beyond people, skies beyond the sky. Next to these, the rivals on Burning Kitchen were like players in the starter village.

"Enormous pressure," Chris muttered, closing the system and rubbing his throbbing temples. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. These two months, he needed a clear plan to improve. He decided that by day, in his work at Le Château, he'd focus on two things. First, master every classic French sauce he was responsible for — not just to make them, but to fully deconstruct their underlying logic with the Flavor Atlas.

Second, under Philip's "surveillance," drill heat control at the hot line like a madman, turning let the fire remember the flavor into his own muscle memory. Late at night, when only he remained in the kitchen, he ran targeted creativity training. He'd set himself all kinds of bizarre ingredient combinations, simulating the "Extreme Creativity" round of the Selection's second day, forcing himself to conceive a coherent dish in the barest sliver of time. The days passed, one after another, at that grinding pace.

Before he knew it, only the final day remained before he'd leave Le Château for the Selection's site. That night, when Chris had finished his last sauce and wiped his burner clean, he walked toward Vincent's office. He needed to say a proper farewell to the chef who had led him into the world of a real professional kitchen.

"Chef." He knocked.

"Come in." Chris pushed open the door. Vincent sat behind his desk, looking over a menu.

"Tomorrow… I leave for the Selection," Chris began, a little awkwardly.

"So today is my last day at Le Château. Thank you for everything you've taught me these two months." Vincent set down the menu, raised his head, and looked at him calmly.

"Are you ready?"

"I… gave it my all," Chris answered. Vincent was silent a moment, seeming to consider something. Then he stood.

"Come with me." He led Chris out of the office, through the now-quiet kitchen, into the dining room. The room had been cleaned, the tables and chairs set in perfect order. Only a few emergency lights were on, leaving it strikingly empty and solemn. Vincent walked to a table by the window and gestured for Chris to sit.

"Chris." Vincent's voice was unusually clear in the empty room.

"What kind of chef do you think the Selection's judges want to see?" Chris paused. It was a question he'd turned over many times.

"A chef with… flawless technique? A chef of boundless creativity?" he ventured. Vincent shook his head.

"Technique and creativity are only tools," he said.

"Ethan's technique is better than yours. That Japanese girl, Kira — her creativity may be bolder than yours. If you try to compete with them on those, you'll very likely lose." It was blunt, and cruel. But Chris knew it was the truth.

"Then… what do the judges want to see?" Chris pressed. Vincent didn't answer directly. He asked back, "Do you remember the first dish I had you make when you came to my kitchen?"

"Potato," Chris answered at once.

"Potato Pavé."

"And what was my verdict on it?""'Passing.'" Chris's voice dropped.

"And the dish that won you Secret-Menu Night — what was its core ingredient?"

"…Potato, again." Vincent looked at him, his eyes deep.

"From 'passing' to conquering New York's most exacting critics, you used the same ingredient both times. What do you think changed in between?" Chris sank into thought. Was it technique? Yes, his technique had improved. Was it creativity? Yes, Whisper of the Earth was far more complex than the pavé. But none of that was the core. The core change… He thought of Philip's "power that makes people go quiet," thought of the old man eating a baked potato in Central Park.

"It was… my attitude toward the food," Chris said slowly, giving his answer. At last, a faint smile of approval crossed Vincent's face.

"Exactly," he said.

"The Selection isn't about whose dish tastes best, or whose technique is the flashiest. It's about who is most like a real chef."

"A real chef knows to respect the ingredient, knows to listen to what the diner needs, knows to stay calm and focused under pressure, knows how to lead a team. The dishes he makes carry his own thinking, his own philosophy, his own soul."

"Remember everything you learned in my kitchen." Vincent stood and clapped Chris on the shoulder.

"Not the sauce recipes, not the tricks of heat control. But how you started as a prep cook and climbed, step by step — and what, in that process, you felt, thought, and held onto."" That is your most powerful weapon."

"Go. Show them what a chef from Le Château is." With that, Vincent turned and walked back alone into the kitchen, leaving Chris to sit in the darkened dining room, turning his words over and over. Most like a chef… Chris looked out at the New York night, and everything came clear in his mind. He knew, now, the frame of mind he should carry into this fight.