Chapter Text
amuse-bouche:
translated to “mouth amuser” in french, a tiny, single-bite dish served at the beginning of a meal; typically a chef's choice item and aims to excite the palate and set the tone for the dining experience.
It's a cool Friday night in downtown Seoul where the velvety ambiance of Maxident, draped in muted black and pink hues with soft jazz filling the air proudly welcomes its guests into a world of culinary finesse.
Maxident was a two-star Michelin restaurant still fairly new within the area, opening only two years ago, but quickly earned its stellar reputation. There was a unique flair about Maxident as there was always a weekly rotating menu that was always different than the previous one. You may have dined here last week, but if you returned the following week, you'd be in for a surprise. Not to mention, its head chef and owner, chef Bang Chan, was described as a 'force' in the culinary kitchen as many patrons sought to try his innovative takes on classics as well as his own hybrid curations.
As it is a regular Friday service, the restaurant is bustling with filled tables and the discreet hum of conversation punctuating the air, blending seamlessly with the clinking of fine crystal and the footsteps of waitstaff bustling around. There is barely a symphony of kitchen activity heard in the background, whose stillness behind the sleek, silver doors provided a more intimate setting for its patrons.
While a couple sat near his seating arrangement gushed about how lucky they were to be here in this moment right, in the very back of the dining room tucked away in a corner booth was Lee Minho who thought otherwise.
Renowned food critic Lee Minho was once described as "a maestro of discerning tastes" who instead of using his skills and knowledge of food in the kitchen turned to writing about them as an alternative. His weekly column, TASTE by Lee Minho was a fan-favorite at the Clé Editorial, and he regularly published reviews and wrote about his experiences at Seoul's hottest places.
He prided himself on his work and was nothing but blunt, direct, and honest in his articles, three traits that readers took away from reading his work alongside them being the same three traits he went by.
Minho had a keen eye for detail, taking a moment to absorb the atmosphere that ostensibly defined what Maxident was viewed by according to the public; yet, a trace of dissatisfaction lingered around him like an elusive aftertaste.
He boredly swirls the glass of pinot noir currently perched in his right hand as he waits for the first course of the night with a slight eagerness tempered by a subtle hint of skepticism.
With its exclusive operating hours from Thursday to Sunday nights, it was proven quite difficult to place a reservation for such a hotspot as the waitlist opened at noon sharp on Wednesday and was immediately filled within minutes.
He could consider himself lucky that he was able to get a booking in such short notice, except that Minho can't help but eye his surroundings carefully and wonder if he should even be thankful in the first place.
For a place like this to be considered a Michelin-starred restaurant was surprising, but with two under its belt? Suspicious.
His thoughts are suddenly interrupted when the first course is suddenly placed in front of him. Minho won't lie and say that his appetite wasn't up for a three-course meal tonight, but based on what's sitting on the table right now, the critic doesn't think he has anything to worry about.
"What's this?" he turns to ask the waiter, who's staring at him expectingly.
"This, Mr. Lee, is a sriracha-spiced tuna tartare with avocado mousse on top and sesame wonton crisps," the staff member informs. "The chef recommends that patrons choose to be hands-on with this dish for a more elevated experience."
Yeah, Minho's not touching that with his bare hands.
While Minho has had his fair share of tuna tartare in the past, this tuna tartare in front of him looks like a kindergartener assembled it. The stack itself looked more like a tilting Jenga tower, the mousse looked to be swirled in a rush and the wonton crisps had burnt charred edges on them.
As for the plating; it was... subpar, he supposes, as a single line of sriracha sauce was traced onto the white plate.
Something about the small things in today's world seems aesthetic to the modern eye.
Most say that sleek is what makes a dish special; but in this case, it only furthers how bad this dish might be.
The critic mutters a small thanks to the man and promptly shoos him off with a wave of his hand before carefully bringing a fork and knife down the tartare.
As expected, the moment his knife makes a minuscule cut –by just touching it, which makes this even crazier!– the tower immediately falls apart, and his two utensils get coated in the green mousse. Minho brings a small dollop of the mousse to his lips as he tries it by itself, only for it to be disappointing. Minho scoops up a bit of tuna this time and opens his mouth to taste the dish. Within a few seconds, all Minho can taste is sriracha, and no umami flavor from the tuna. Come to think of it, as he gives the tuna another once-over with a turn of his fork, it's completely coated in sriracha sauce.
And he's not touching the crisps. As stated earlier, they're slightly burnt and look stale. He'll take his chances.
Minho sighs as he gently throws down the utensils onto the plate, wipes his mouth with a napkin, and shortly reaches for his blazer that lies near him on his right. The man digs through the left pocket and quickly pulls out what looks to be a small black notebook accompanied by a blue ballpoint pen.
He flips through the notebook page after page to find an empty section, majority of it filled with memories from previous restaurants he experienced and his notes about the dishes he tried at each of them. He eventually finds an empty section towards the end and loosely scribbles at the top "MAXIDENT" before jotting notes about his appetizer and the lack of balance the items had altogether.
The appetizer arrives shortly after, in which the waiter introduces as a "lemongrass-infused chicken breast" with a yellow curry-flavored risotto cooked in a shiitake mushroom broth. It's an odd combination of ingredients, each with distinctive smells and flavors that aren't as coherent when placed together. His point is quickly proven when the aroma of the lemongrass greatly bothers the critic's nose.
Another scribble.
However, as he cuts into the chicken, disappointment sets in. The lemongrass, though greatly aromatic, barely added any flavor to the breast. It was as if they took it out of its possible marinade (if there was any) too early.
Another scribble. An underline under the word 'lemongrass' is added followed by a big 'X' mark.
As for the curry risotto and its mushroom broth... the description of the two items being paired together already made Minho's stomach hurt. And it's not just the ingredients that makes him want to puke, but the color of the dish itself. Other than a greenish-white not-so-flavored breast sat on top of the meal, the Tumeric from the curry already contributed a bright yellow hue. But when it is combined with the brown broth, together the hues make it look like, to put it plain simply, like throw up.
Minho doesn't even bother to try a spoonful of whatever it is. He already knows that it'd end somewhere with a toilet.
More scribbles. Followed by a few question marks.
Part of Minho thinks that dessert, the last course of the night, would be sufficient enough to end the meal on a good note, but just as he's felt about the past two dishes is the same emotion of dread when another green dish sits in front of him.
"To end the night off, this is a Matcha Green Tea Panna Cotta paired with a sweet vanilla cream."
Too much cream, he scribbles with a frown in his notepad. Could just go without it. Maybe add fruit.
He forgets the waiter is standing next to him as he's jotting his experience when the other clears his throat, but the critic could honestly care less.
It's a shame he couldn't say the same thing about the poor waiter, though, who nervously goes, "Um, cool... Please let me know if you need anything else?" before scattering away like a little lost mouse. Minho scoops a forkful of the panna cotta, but upon tasting it, he already has another with flavor imbalances as the matcha greatly overpowers the entire dessert.
His plate gets cleared a few minutes later followed by being handed the check, but based on his waiter's sudden change in nervousness as he wordlessly hands off his credit card to the other, Minho has a feeling that the kid probably just learned who he was.
His card is eventually returned to him and upon receiving the copy of his receipt, he sees that the automatic gratuity charge (as he did read was to be added when first booking this restaurant in the first place) was entered when inspecting his check.
But if you truly wanted his opinion, based on the service he just had, Maxident didn't deserve an ounce of gratuity to begin with.
Minho promptly leaves Maxident on a sour note, and it's shown to affect him when he arrives back home to his computer with his notebook in hand.
It doesn't take him long to reflect on his experience at Maxident, and within a few hours, he sends an email to his editor-in-chief stating that his weekly column piece was ready to be published in the following Monday's paper.
It's a beautiful Monday morning when Bang Chan arrives at his pride and joy, Maxident.
Since the first day he wanted to pursue culinary arts and follow in the footsteps of some of the greatest chefs in the nation, he's always dreamed of having a restaurant that he could call his own.
Never would Chan think he'd be the owner of a two-Michelin-starred restaurant, but dreams do come true: TWICE!
“Good morning, team!” Chan greets his kitchen crew as he walks in.
Normally, the chef receives a boisterous chorus of “Good morning, chef!”
But for the first time, he’s surprised to be welcomed to nothing except silence.
Instead of being welcomed to the usual sight of his all-star team already in their respective stations getting ready for today's plan of action, today his team was oddly huddled up in the corner of the prep area, speaking among each other in hushed voices.
Chan gives them an odd look from behind as he slowly walks over to unlock his office to briefly set his stuff down his stuff before striding over to the concerning scene.
“Uh, good morning?” he tries again, louder this time. This time the greeting gains a reaction from his team, as half of his team immediately at the sound of his voice, among those being his best friends Changbin and Jisung, two of the people who have been a part of his culinary journey since day one.
“Er, morning Chef!” Jisung, his head line cook, announces, doing a quick salute. The rest of the team gives him a mismatched greeting as well, which only raises more suspicion for the executive chef.
Chan immediately frowns.
Something's up.
“What’s going on?” he asks as his team seems to huddle closer together.
But before Chan can step any closer, Changbin and Jisung suddenly move in to push him further.
“Nothing, Chan!” Changbin, his sous chef, tells him. “We're just trying to figure out… new menu stuff!”
"Y-yeah! Just whipping up a plan for the week right now!" Jisung adds with a nervous smile. "You know, the usual daily... stuff!"
“But I thought we were going to do that at noon," Chan tells them, slightly confused in the last-minute change of schedule. "Not to mention, Changbin, you were the one who told me to make it that time.”
Changbin blinks. “Oh, me?” he says, attempting to play it off coy. “I guess the team and I had some free time and thought, ‘Hey, why don’t we get a headstart on today’s big task at hand,’ you know?”
Chan's not buying it with a frown as he pushes his friends aside to address his crowding team. "Okay, what's going on here, guys?" he demands. "I walk in here and see that there's barely any work done! More like a huge pow-wow, and I need to know what's going on, so someone speak up please!"
The executive chef watches on as his team seems to share nervous glances before his sommelier, Hwang Hyunjin, suddenly cuts through the crowd sheepishly holding what looks to be a large newspaper.
"Hey, Chan..." Hyunjin begins, but he immediately drops the casual greeting when the other crosses his arms. The sommelier lets out a loud sigh. "Promise you won't be mad?"
"As long as I know what I might be mad about, sure?" Chan replies, searching for an answer among the crowd. "Why is everyone acting so nervous?"
Hyunjin gives him another sigh in response. "I think you need to read it for yourself," his sommelier tells him before handing off the paper. Chan is still confused as he lifts the paper to read, but the moment the word 'Maxident' catches his eye, he's on high alert.
"Maxident: a Maximum-Accident in the Restaurant Business," Chan reads out loud, already frowning at the article title. "I'm sure you read all of the articles by now or have heard one thing or another about the famous Maxident restaurant owned by executive chef Bang Chan in the heart of Seoul. With its unique take on weekly rotating menus, limited seating, and reservations, and its profile as a two-starred Michelin restaurant, almost everyone has one way or another tried to experience this phenomenon for themselves.
I had the recent opportunity to try Maxident during its Friday service, and based on how my night went, I would best describe it as an... accident full of green?" Chan briefly glances at his friends, who urge him to continue. "Keep reading, dude."
Chan sighs before resuming. "Every week, Maxident presents an unique three-course meal for patrons to try and see what flavor combinations could pair best together. However, one big issue when it comes to being experimental in modern cuisine is often forgetting about the balance, which is what each dish I had at Maxident greatly lacks. For our appetizer, I received a child's project in the form of a sriracha-spiced tuna tartare which left me wincing upon first bite due to the tuna being greatly coated in the sriracha sauce with sharp flavors of chili burning your taste buds. It was as if Chef Bang had created a rebellion against taste buds for all, completely drowning the essence of the tuna under a cacophony of misguided spice.
The tartare, not to mention, was paired with an avocado mousse, which was more like a desperate attempt to elevate a sinking ship– a pitiful mirage of sophistication that quickly crumbled upon the first encounter. The appetizer also came with a few sesame wonton crisps made in-house, but were so greatly charred at the ends and had such very pale coloration, it, alongside the whole appetizer itself, was greatly inedible - Jisung, you were the one who prepped the tuna last week!"
"I know!" Jisung whines. "But it shouldn't have been that spicy! Maybe this guy just has sensitive taste?"
Chan sighs before continuing the rest of the article. "Moving on to the lemongrass-infused chicken breast with an unholy curry risotto with shiitake mushroom broth, in which my optimism for this restaurant took a large hit. Upon receiving the dish, the aroma of the lemongrass was so pungent it slightly ruined my appetite for this dish, and I don't mean the color of it entirely already.
The color of all the items combined just looked like a bad night full of food poisoning on the bowl. The breast was greatly bland among the lemongrass surprise, and it made me wonder if it was truly included in a marinade of the chicken if there was ever once was?
As for the curry risotto; any college student or preschooler would know that even this type of idea is inedible. So this begs the question - why would the team behind Maxident think this was a popular food staple?" At this point, Chan’s knuckles tightly gripped onto the paper, trying his best to mask his emotions with a smile regarding the slander of his team's hard work allegedly put to waste as this writer had called it.
He takes a slight pause, turning to his friends who stand there slightly fearful. “You know, Chan, something about you reading this out loud is... much worse than us hiding it," Changbin stammers with a concerned look on his face. "What if we just-"
"I want to know what he has to say about dessert first," Chan tells him.
"Cha—“ The chef turns back to the paper.
"The Matcha Green Tea Panna Cotta marked the final nail in the coffin of my dining experience. It was a bitter betrayal of my expectations, tas he matcha playing a solo of discord on my palate. The dessert resembled more of a culinary mishap than a delightful conclusion, a testament to Chef Bang's... apparent indifference to the quality of his creations.
Huh. That's an interesting way to put it... Dear TASTE readers, as I write this review, one thing I..."
"—Chan, please. I think that's enough of that review," Changbin says, closer to him this time as the executive chef moves the paper to see his sous chef standing next to him. "Plus, it's just a review, you know? People are opinionated and-"
But Chan doesn't plan on stopping now. "Bin, I'm almost done. And it's going to be fine, okay?" he assures him. "I got this."
Chan misses the way his friends (as well as the rest of his team) share another nervous look when their boss resumes to reading the remainder of the article. "One thing I couldn't help but realize was that Maxident, still in its nascent stages with only two years of full operation, continues to grapple with the challenges of finding its true identity." Chan frowns at the statement.
"Sure, the restaurant's youthfulness could explain the mishmash of flavors, the lack of finesse in execution, and the overall disjointed experience. Perhaps, in time, Maxident would overcome its teething problems and emerge as the Michelin-starred establishment it aspired to be. But should we be pointing the real fingers at the person behind the idea - Chef Bang Chan himself?"
Chan blinks at the article.
Is he ruining his own restaurant?
"Perhaps Chef Chan, in his ambitious pursuit to chase as many Michelin stars as possible, had aimed too high, resulting in a kitchen struggling to meet the grandiose expectations he had set. After my experience in his restaurant, it is clear that Chef Bang Chan is nothing but talentless and lacks an identity within the culinary empire he strives to build. The chef lacks authenticity, and it shows in the weak attempts to shine in the culinary world with such dishes.
Does one not know the difference between dreams and reality? These are the thoughts I urge you, dear readers, to come in with in case you ever find yourself at this establishment in the near future.
...With Regards, Lee Minho."
Chan accidentally lets the newspaper drop onto the floor and meets the eyes of all his team members staring back at him.
"There's an online version of the article as well," Hyunjin murmurs. "It was published today, too."
"Chan...?" Changbin hesitantly says, stepping forward. "Are you alright, dude?"
Is he okay?
Chan's hands trembled ever so slightly as he tried to pick up the newspaper.
But those words.
The words, like venomous arrows, pierced through the pages, leaving a bitter residue on his fingertips. The kitchen, once a sanctuary of creativity and passion, now seemed to echo with the ghosts of culinary missteps. Each critique felt like a personal blow to Chan's core, unraveling the fabric of his hard-earned reputation.
As he had read Lee Minho's harsh commentary, a heavy weight settled in Chan's chest. The remorse was palpable as if each word etched onto the paper chipped away at the foundation of his culinary pride.
The ambitious dreams that fueled late nights and meticulous menu planning now seemed like illusions crumbling before his eyes.
A sense of helplessness washed over him, a man who had poured his heart into Maxident, only to find his efforts dissected and dismantled in the public eye. The kitchen, once his domain of creation, felt tainted with the bitter taste of failure. The weight of disappointment, not just for himself but for his dedicated team, pressed down like an oppressive force. It wasn't just the reputation of Maxident that seemed to be spiraling downhill; it was Chan's own standing as a chef.
Each criticism from Minho resonated with a haunting truth, leaving him questioning if there was anything left within him to provide to his team. The accolades that once adorned his career now felt like distant echoes, drowned out by the dissonance of a critic's disapproval.
In the wake of Minho's words, the chef now found himself at a crossroads, grappling with the fallout of a review that seemed to cast shadows over the very essence of his culinary identity. This article wouldn't just affect his reputation, but his entire team's. The journey ahead appeared steep and uncertain, leaving him to wonder if redemption was still within reach or if the culinary empire he built was destined to crumble.
"...Chan?"
He loudly crumples the newspaper into a large paper ball, but not before he sees the newspaper brand in the top right corner.
A lightning bulb seems to strike.
"Guys, I have to go take care of something first."
"Huh? Chan where are you goi-?" But the executive chef is already rushing out the door. After a hasty search of what Clé Editorial is and who by the name of Lee Minho wrote that article about him, Chan revs his engine up and immediately jumps onto the road.
Nothing else mattered until he got answers.