Chương 47: Don't Lecture Me on Cooking With Your Logic

"Time! Everyone, put down your tools!" At the host's command, the one-hour mystery box challenge officially ended. The kitchen went quiet in an instant, only the hum of oven fans and the heavy breathing of the contestants. Everyone looked at the work before them, expressions varied. Some relieved, some full of hope, and some with regret and unease all over their faces. Jack was one of them.

At the last moment he'd tried to make a more complex sauce for his roast chicken, mismanaged the time, reduced it too thick and too salty. He scratched at his hair in agitation and cursed under his breath. He glanced at the calm, perfect-looking dish at Chris's station beside him, and felt even worse. He couldn't fathom how this guy's brain was built. Why could he always turn cooking into solving a math problem, every step calculated clean? Don't lecture me on cooking with your logic.

He seemed to hear the words he'd once said to new cooks in his own back kitchen. But now he found himself, of all things, a little jealous of Chris's "logic." In a high-pressure environment like Burning Kitchen, emotional inspiration was sometimes far less reliable than cool logic. The judges began to tour the kitchen, choosing the three they judged best from the twelve dishes. It was a suspenseful process. Every contestant hoped their name would be called.

"The first dish, we'd like to taste… Sarah." Nina Marsh announced with a smile. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. Sarah covered her mouth with her hands in excitement, her eyes reddening at once. Her teammates rushed to congratulate her. Her chicken pot pie, plain as it was, was full of genuine emotion, and had plainly moved the judges.

"The second dish…" Curtis Hale drew out his words.

"Ethan." No expression showed on Ethan's face; he only nodded slightly, as if it were a matter of course. Though Vane had criticized his dish as soulless on the tour, no one could deny it was a technically flawless work. The judges plainly wanted to verify Vane's judgment by tasting it. Now only the last spot remained. Every heart hung. Chris stood there, calm on the surface, but the hand at his side tightened without his meaning it to. He knew his dish's concept was too risky.

The judges would either love it or fail entirely to understand it. Vane stood at the center of the kitchen, his gaze sweeping the remaining dishes. At last he stopped at Chris's station.

"The last dish…" Vane's voice was low and forceful.

"Chris. Bring your 'lonely laboratory' up." Chris's heart jolted. He'd won the gamble. He drew a deep breath, lifted his plate steadily, and walked with Sarah and Ethan to the judges' table. In the control room, the director slapped his thigh in excitement.

"Brilliant! These three are the three extremes of this theme! One stands for warmth, one for technique, and one for… I don't even know how to describe it — a freak, basically! Now we've got a show!" At the judges' table, the three dishes sat side by side. Sarah's chicken pot pie, golden crust, creamy white sauce flowing out when cut, breathing a reassuring aroma. Ethan's deconstructed chicken, perfect geometry, precise plating, like a piece in a museum — cold and expensive.

Chris's "Chicken, Corn, and a Little Loneliness," rich in elements, bright in color, full of a modern sensibility, yet carrying an indescribable, restrained distance.

"All right, you three." Vane spoke.

"Now, tell us about your dishes, and your stories." It was an ultimate showdown. Technique, emotion, creativity, and philosophy would fight it out on a small plate.