God of Cooking

“Oh, did you come as far as here to see me?”

Min-joon was working inside the food truck. While the hot heat from the stove and the cold breeze from the air conditioner cooled and heated his body repeatedly, he asked her, as if he was sick and tired of it, wiping cold sweat on his forehead.

Delia grinned at him and said, leaning forward, “What’s wrong? Did I come to a place that I should not?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I’m an immature and rich Chinese woman. I thought there wasn’t a better place than Las Vegas that’s right up my alley.”

“So, you mean you are not here to see me?”

“Of course, I’ve come here because I wanted to meet you. Las Vegas is a vast place. Do you know how much I was worried when Rose Island was burned down during your vacation? I was worried I might never see you again. So, as soon as I heard you appeared in Las Vegas again, I drove here immediately. Can you find a more loyal fan than me?”

“Please order. Lots of people are waiting in line, as you see.”

“You’re still cold fish.”

Pouting, she looked at the menu then opened her mouth as if she couldn’t understand.

Min-joon fully agreed with his comment. The Tagliatelle jelly that he chewed in a thin Crepe was really fascinating. In a way, he felt like the jelly tasted like that of glass noodles boiled in broth for a long time. If there was any difference, it had a richer and more savory taste.

However, he wondered if this Kebab could be a good menu item. It wasn’t because Kebab was not attractive to the customers. Of course, it was largely thanks to the name of Rose Island that the customers stopped by the food truck, but all of them were happy about the Kebab and left positive feedback about it.

The problem was the chef’s skills, devotion, and funds. Currently, they were using three food trucks to make various kinds of Kebab. Of course, if they rented a building, they could solve these problems easily. However, there were a couple of other problems still unresolved.

They were the chef’s skills and leadership. The reason why they could make such delicious Kebab was because the demi chefs of Rose Island, who could be called head chefs or sous chefs at other restaurants, held the fans and knives to make Kebab under Rachel’s direction.

Ordinary people couldn’t do it no matter how much money they had, for this kind of work depended on the chefs and cooks, after all.

“Chef.”

“Huh?”

“This customer wants to see you.”

Min-joon turned his head, trying not to sound weary. The customer’s face was familiar to him, who had been to Rose Island a lot. Min-joon smiled and headed toward the counter.

“Ah, Mr. Dolce, it’s been a while.”

“I was on a business trip to Las Vegas. I heard you were doing a food truck service here in Las Vegas, so I drove here for about an hour. Nice to meet you. Oh, I won’t see you again after meeting you here this time.”

“Don’t worry. By the time our food truck service is over, Rose Island will be back to normal.

What would you like to order?”

Min-joon quickly changed the topic for fear his private talk with Dolce might last long.

This kind of conversation would only anger those waiting in lines.

In fact, this wasn’t the case when Min-joon saw his regulars here. Compared to Anderson, who worked at the Grand Chef with him, Min-joon was more widely known and recognized. So, even those Americans who hated bothering others often asked Maya if Min-joon could take care of their payment. They just wanted to speak with him somehow.

Min-joon could not ignore them just because it would bother his job. As a result, once the mealtime was over, Min-joon became more exhausted than other demi chefs. It was 2:30 pm after lunchtime. When Min-joon, who just finished the lunch hour business, reclined the passenger seat and laid there, Raphael approached and handed him orange juice.

“Drink it. I made it myself.”

“Do you want anything from me? How come you are so kind to me like this? You may be eccentric, but you don’t look kind at all.”

“I’m not going to hear that from you, man.”

Raphael raised his eyebrow, which he did often when he was angry or lost in thought or got funny with somebody. Min-joon felt a bit strange when he thought he got quite close to Raphael before he knew it.

Min-joon drank the orange juice. It was refreshing and had a sweet and sour taste that stimulated his tongue. He muttered, relishing in the grains of orange cooling his throat, “Oh, you added some soy sauce in it.”

“Orange juice is a perfect match with soy sauce.”

“At first glance, I didn’t think they matched at all.”

As it turned out, it was a very good combination. Min-joon was sipping the juice little by little, but in the end, he drank it all at once as if he couldn’t stand it.

Raphael grinned and said, “That’s not the way a gourmet drinks, right?”

“Who can call a man eating on a food truck a gourmet? By the way, this orange juice is so cool, so I want to gulp it down right away.”

Min-joon’s eyes pointed to the empty plastic glass for a moment. Suddenly, he felt that cooking would do much more than just satisfying one’s hunger. Sometimes, cooking could relieve one’s frustration, heat, or coldness like this. It had been a long time since he realized it like today.

‘I wonder if I can focus on food that stimulates this kind of pleasure…’

Of course, he could not make a conclusive answer right now.

At that moment, he saw someone knocking on the window of the passenger seat.

When he turned his head, he stiffened his face. He opened the door and got off.

He said, looking at the person, “Delia. Are you still here?”

“It looks like you want me to go away. I’ve bought a present for you.”

“I don’t need it…”

Delia handed out a bag to him, who was looking dumbfounded. After checking inside the bag, he could not hide his absurd expression.

Delia shrugged and said, “I told you that I bought the food for my friends. So, take it. I think you didn’t have lunch yet.”

“Man, this is the food we made here! I’m getting the food you paid for.”

“You got it as a gift, so you haven’t bought this food. So, just take it.”

“Why the hell are you doing this to me?”

“Don’t you really know why I’m doing this?” She asked with a mischievous smile.

He sighed, shaking his head.

“Let me stop here. Thanks for the food. I feel rather strange…”

“If you quit Rose Island, please let me know anytime. I’ve got an opening at my hotel restaurant…”

Delia suddenly stopped talking because she realized she was overly interfering with his private affairs. She was not the type of woman who would care about it. But she stopped because somebody suddenly shouted nearby.

Min-joon turned his head. Something was going on at one of the food trucks in the back.

“What the heck is going on?” Min-joon asked as if he was perplexed.

Then he got a little closer to it and soon frowned. He felt a disgusting smell like a mixture of tree roots, insects, and vinegar.

Raphael sniffed and opened his mouth, “We’ve got a drug seller out there.”

“Damn it. I thought I could relax now…”

Min-joon let out a long sigh. A man was shouting at the top of his voice at Janet, standing in front of the truck, with her arms folded.

“I’ve got enough money to buy the food and even you! So, give me the Kebab right now!”

“I told you. All the ingredients ran out, so you should come back later. And looking at your clothing, I wonder if you can buy even my nails with your money.”

‘Good job, Janet.’

Min-joon smiled, cheering on her deep down. Usually, he didn’t like her chilly attitude, but he felt secure to see her going tough in a situation like this.

Right at that moment, Anderson stepped away, watching the man clenching his fists.

‘Please don’t make me stop you by force,’ he muttered.

However, his bad speculation came true. The moment the man was raising his hand to punch her, Anderson grabbed his hand and pushed him to the truck. Thud!