The Chef From the Apocalypse Enters the Food Industry - Chapter 107

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 107. A Brief Respite
Jin-woo picked up his apron.
I quietly grabbed mine as well.
Whoosh—
I prepared several dishes.
“Let’s go!”
What was already a generous spread now overflowed the table as if it might collapse under the weight.
Only then did I sit down.
Jin-woo took the seat across from me, steadily clearing the table.
“Older Brother.”
“Yeah.”
“Today is a good day.”
“I know.”
Just then, Jang Owner brought over beer.
“Come on! Let’s eat and die happy!”
Laughter erupted.
The restaurant grew loud.
That’s right.
This restaurant was always meant to be lively and boisterous—that was its true charm.
‘This is nice.’
* * *
Several days had passed.
Since winning the competition. The customers had increased.
By my estimate, 1.5 times. Perhaps even more.
-Order here!
-Coming!
-I’d like to order too!
-Yes!
Lines formed during lunch hours.
There were no empty seats in the evening.
I was truly grateful that I’d expanded the restaurant significantly.
‘Preparing early was a masterstroke.’
If I hadn’t, problems might have erupted.
“Older Brother! Two ramens for table four!”
“Add a loofah soup for table seven!”
“Three coffees for table two!”
Jin-woo dashed through the hall, his voice cutting through the entire restaurant.
Where does that guy get his stamina from?
‘And he’s still training in cooking on top of all this.’
The kitchen had already become a battlefield.
Haran was holding a knife beside me, working with practiced efficiency.
Her movements were swift.
Tap, tap, tap.
The ingredients fell in uniform pieces. Even from across the kitchen, I could see Seok-jin working without pause.
‘She’s doing well. Mechanical precision like that—it’s actually more stable in times like these.’
Unexpected advantages were revealing themselves.
Jang Owner was pushing out Hong Kong home-style dishes on the 1st Floor.
My Older Brother handled coffee orders on the 2nd Floor.
Busy. Really busy.
‘Still, it’s good.’
Sales had climbed regardless of the reason.
I kept increasing ingredient orders. The Refrigerator was packed tight.
I even had to reorganize the Kitchen workflow.
‘Staff… I’ll need to hire more soon.’
I’d been expanding with Jin-woo’s Friends working part-time, but even that was starting to show its limits.
After expanding the space, I realized I needed to expand the workforce too.
It was a happy problem to have.
“Phew…”
As orders piled up, around the time the lunch rush was beginning to ease.
The door opened.
“Welcome!”
Jin-woo reflexively greeted them.
I lifted my head too. Something felt off.
‘Huh?’
It was Han Jae-won.
* * *
He was alone.
His attire was different from what I’d seen at the competition.
Not formal wear. A knit sweater and slacks—casual. The atmosphere was different from when I’d seen him in the finals judge’s seat.
‘If I hadn’t seen him before, I wouldn’t have recognized him.’
Right now, he looked like a neighborhood older brother.
Jin-woo recognized him quickly. His eyes widened.
“Boss. That person… the finals judge…”
His voice was small, but I heard it.
‘He seems to have come casually, deliberately without the formal wear.’
No, wait. That’s not it.
This man is naturally that type.
Even when I first saw him in the finals Waiting Room, he had that quality—someone with an ease about approaching others that came naturally.
That’s what makes him hard to read.
“You’ve come as a customer, then?”
“For now?”
While we were talking, Han Jae-won found an empty seat and sat down.
A table for two by the window.
I hadn’t even guided him, yet he chose it himself.
His selection was swift. A spot where foot traffic wouldn’t interfere. And from that angle, he could see directly into the kitchen.
‘Clever.’
He surveyed his surroundings. The ceiling. The walls. The kitchen area.
The interior still bore the unmistakable marks of a converted factory.
The defining feature of this restaurant was how the steel framework had been incorporated into the design.
Han Jae-won’s gaze lingered there.
‘What is he looking at?’
The average check size? The efficiency of the seating arrangement? Or was he simply intrigued by the interior design?
“Hmm… hmm…”
He hummed to himself as he leisurely picked up the menu.
He studied it for a while. One page. Two pages.
The pace at which he turned them was deliberately slow.
‘He’s not reading—he’s analyzing.’
This man operates six franchises. Two more internationally.
What he extracts from a single menu would be entirely different from what I see.
Price structure. Cost margins. Turnover rates.
Menu variety relative to kitchen staff efficiency.
He’s someone who can read numbers between the lines.
That’s what he was studying.
In the meantime, Jin-woo went to take the order.
“It’s been a while!”
“Yes, it has.”
“What would you like to order?”
“Chef’s choice, please.”
Han Jae-won closed the menu.
All that time spent studying it rendered meaningless. In the end, it was his choice anyway. He was smiling. Relaxed.
“Whatever the chef is confident about.”
Jin-woo returned.
“Boss, he wants chef’s choice.”
“I heard.”
I got to work.
Chef’s choice.
Now that I think about it.
‘Didn’t he come quietly and eat before?’
That’s what he said in the waiting room. That he’d eaten here.
Yet here he was, ordering the same thing again.
‘This is interesting.’
He probably knew that was the most demanding request.
If I chose from the menu, I’d just make it.
But as I please? This was a test of sorts. He’d put me on the testing block.
‘Good.’
For the record, I wasn’t the type to back away from something like this.
‘What should I make?’
What I was most confident in.
My beginning. That was always the best.
Ramen and kimbap.
Those two.
* * *
‘Ramen first.’
Bone broth was still simmering on one side of the stove.
For reference, it had been brewing since I left the Dawn Market.
Considering the time, it had to be close to twelve hours by now.
Nearly twelve hours of bone broth.
‘Basic, but. The best.’
Normally, I would have used it as is.
But today was different.
‘The goal is to show my abilities at their maximum, right?’
I opened the lid of the broth pot. Steam rose up.
Fortunately, the preparation for this was already complete.
Sssss—
As the rising steam touched my nose, I could instinctively identify its components.
‘I have this now.’
I analyzed it down to the molecular level.
Gelatin. Glutamic acid. Inosinate.
Numbers surfaced. Sensation grasped first, then numbers followed.
Breaking through the limits of taste.
It seemed to activate automatically whenever I stood in the kitchen.
‘Good. I just need to adjust this slightly.’
The balance of the broth became visible to me.
The glutamic acid was slightly excessive. The fat was raising the turbidity.
‘If I remove the fat… the flavor will suffer too.’
Before, there was no choice.
Clear taste and deep taste had to be exchanged for each other.
But now I could see it. My senses told me.
Thirty milliliters of egg white.
Dissolved slowly at low temperature.
‘Only the fat gets absorbed, leaving the umami behind.’
There was nothing to lose, so I tried it.
I added egg white.
Low heat. Slowly.
Murky impurities clumped up and rose. I skimmed them away.
‘Now then. Let’s see.’
What remained was a transparent golden broth.
I brought my nose close to it.
‘Deep.’
Clear yet deep.
This was a flavor I’d struggled to create before.
But now it came together intentionally. It was the power of my newly acquired skill.
‘If I’ve got it, I should use it right away.’
I had no intention of limiting it to just broth. I’d use it in all my cooking.
Next came the boiled noodles. Fresh noodles. Hand-pulled by me.
My instinct guided the cooking time for these as well.
‘One minute forty seconds. That’s perfect.’
Ding—
It was as if a bell rang in my mind.
The moment that time arrived, I pulled them out. They had perfect elasticity.
‘Excellent…!’
Whoosh—
I placed the noodles in a bowl. I poured the broth over them.
Sssssss—
The clear broth seeped between the noodles.
A single slice of beef brisket on top. I’d lightly seared it first.
One drop of scallion oil. A handful of sliced leek. I omitted the red pepper powder.
I controlled every element with meticulous precision.
‘Complete.’
There was nothing more to add to this broth.
Just looking at it was pristine. Cleaner than anything I’d ever made before.
‘I’ll name it later.’
I had to move on to the next dish.
Like a tasting menu. I couldn’t just prepare one thing at a time and wait.
I went straight to the kimbap.
I adjusted the rice I already had prepared.
Normally.
‘I would have mixed in sesame oil here.’
This time, I skipped the sesame oil. Instead, just one drop of truffle oil.
Exactly one drop, perfectly measured for a single roll. It was the amount my instinct told me was right.
‘0.3ml. No more than that. Any more and the truffle aroma will kill the rice’s own flavor.’
Perfect.
Next, the filling ingredients. I pulled out the wagyu beef.
The moment it touched my hands, I could read the fat distribution. This cut had evenly marbled fat.
I sliced it thin. Based on analysis, not intuition.
Then I seasoned it with salt and pepper and placed it on the pan.
“Huff…”
It had been a while since I felt this kind of tension.
Adapting to cooking this analytically was quite exhausting for me as well.
Still.
‘Stay focused.’
When it was time, I had to deliver.
Sizzle—
Oil splattered across the pan.
‘Now!’
I seared just the outside quickly, leaving the inside a delicate pink.
My instincts spoke.
‘Eight seconds.’
I flipped it.
‘Four seconds.’
I removed it.
Then I moved to the next step immediately.
I spread rice over the seaweed sheet and laid down a base of cream cheese.
On top went the seared wagyu and a single perilla leaf.
‘Balance the flavors.’
I rolled it up firmly.
But this wasn’t the end.
‘If I stopped here, it wouldn’t be enough.’
Just rolling it wouldn’t complete my kimbap.
I grabbed the torch and applied flame to the outer surface of the kimbap.
Crackle.
As the seaweed crisped up, the aroma burst forth. The truffle I’d used instead of sesame oil reacted to the heat. A subtle fragrance filled the kitchen.
Haran sniffed the air.
“Owner, what is that?”
“A new menu item.”
“…It smells delicious.”
“Of course it does.”
“What’s the name?”
“Well. Truffle Wagyu Kimbap?”
“That’s pretty straightforward, isn’t it?”
“That’s exactly why it’s better.”
I cut the kimbap into bite-sized pieces.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
The cross-section revealed itself.
The cream cheese’s white. The beef’s pink. The perilla leaf’s green.
Between the grains of rice, truffle oil gleamed with a lustrous sheen. The nori on the outside was finished crisp with a torch.
‘Torched truffle kimbap.’
The name alone was already delicious.
A new dish emerging after a long time.
‘So this is what happens when not just the concept, but the precision itself transforms.’
Truffle oil 0.3ml. Beef seared for 12 seconds. Torch distance 5cm.
All measurements my senses had captured.
Executing it in real-time like this—this is what emerges.
‘Using the same ingredients to create a different flavor than before, and this is the result.’
That was the true value of breaking through the limits of taste.
Those valuable dishes.
Clear bone broth ramen. Torched truffle kimbap.
I plated both with utmost care.
“Phew…”
Done.
As I’ve said time and again.
The final step of cooking is plating.
Only after completing all the processes did I see the steam rising vigorously.
I was satisfied.
“Jin-woo.”
“Yes!”
“Table 4.”
It was time to serve.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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