Absinthe novel Chapter 30

I enjoyed the next few days tremendously. With the help of Rob, I was able to identify the kind of chef that I was. I am a Filipino chef through and through. And he was right. Despite my keen interest in patisserie and molecular gastronomy, my dishes all gravitate to the Filipino's play on sweet, salty, and sour base flavors.

I was also super proud of the recipe I'd developed for the dish I would be serving Chef Maxwell on Friday. Rob came over to the condo every day to assist me with the tasting, and I couldn't be any happier with the results. Derrick's mood considerably lightened as well, and he often joined us in the kitchen to help out.

On Thursday, I started with my prep. I had a handsome cut of skin-on pork belly, locally called liempo, braised in light soy sauce, apple cider vinegar, star anise, garlic, bay leaves, some kosher salt, sugar, and freshly ground black pepper for about three hours. Then I chucked it into the fridge to cool overnight. I also had a few eggs frozen to -18 degrees for a surprise. I was incredibly excited about the whole thing.

The following day, I placed my prepped liempo in an ice box and had it refrigerated again as soon as I got to Chef Maxwell's. Of course, I did not forget my frozen eggs, either. Wait, that sounded wrong, but there's no other way to describe them.

I barely noticed that it was once again time for us to take on Chef Maxwell's challenge. I scanned the area and, sure enough, nobody had time for anybody else. The other three were focused on their ingredients and their preparations.

I should be, too, I thought.

I got my pre-braised liempo and made deep scores across it to guide me when I cut it to serving sizes later. Afterward, I made light crisscross scores across the entire length of the liempo skin that would create a neat diamond pattern once it has been crisped up.

After my oil reached 170 degrees, I fried the meat for about 6 minutes. After reheating the oil to 190 degrees, I flash fried the liempo to make it extra crispy on the outside while retaining the juices inside.

Next up was my adobo sauce. In developing the recipe for it, I corrected the contrasting ratio of my base flavors: salty, sweet, and sour. I accomplished that by using soy sauce, coconut vinegar, and full fat coconut milk. You could barely taste the sweetness, but I already had a solution for that.

I took out the frozen chicken eggs and peeled them carefully. I took a syringe and injected some honey and chicken broth mixture I'd made deep into the yolk, dusted the eggs with potato starch, dipped them in a simple egg wash, and rolled them over a combination of chicharron and bread crumbs.

Then I deep-fried them tempura-style.

I'd tested them with Rob, and he had been head over heels for them! The frozen eggs, though deep-fried in smoking hot oil, had runny yolks flavored with honey and chicken broth. And once he had broken the eggs open, the flavored yolks oozed out and covered the dish with a burst of delectable sweetness. Genius, right?

I recycled Jiwoo's, I mean the half Korean asshole's idea of plums in jasmine rice to add sweetness to the dish in contrast to the savory flavors of the meat.

After cooking, I neatly plated everything and topped the dish with crispy fried garlic, cilantro, scallions, and some Szechuan pepper.

Done!

As instructed, I rang my bell, and an attendant came for my dish. Before I exited the kitchen to wait for Chef Maxwell, I looked around the room and saw everyone concentrating. I was not really sure what they were doing, but I figured that Vivi would play to her strengths and present a washoku dish. Judging from the different types of raw fish at her station, I thought she was going in for the kill with sashimi and other subtle Japanese dishes. It seemed she had given up on Chinese cuisine. What a shame.

Nico, on the other hand, had a lot of ingredients and pots boiling at the same time. Even his oven was on. Of course, that's pretty standard for most French cuisine, which was what I assumed her was going for.

And as for the other apprentice, I didn't really understand what he was doing. I could see a lot of fruits and some baking ingredients, and I also spotted meats and sauces. Talk about incoherence! Oh well. I no longer cared about what happens to him anyway.

I did not wait long in the reception area since Chef Maxwell had me called soon after.

"Please tell me who you are as a chef."

"The answer I came up with to that question is simple, Chef Maxwell: I'm a Filipino chef. A Filipino cuisine chef."

Chef Maxwell eyed me meaningfully. He hadn't made any movement to taste the dish.

"I aspire to be a world class pâtissier, but despite most pastries originating from French cuisine, my cooking represents the unique flavor contrasts of Filipino dishes. Every single dish I've served up to now have made full use of contrasting saltiness, sweetness, and sourness, allowing me to play with the taste buds. The lava cake I earned compliments for had a unique blend of chocolate, lemon yogurt, duck fat, and beetroots to highlight that three-flavor contrasting base."

Chef Maxwell still said nothing. He just kept staring at me with his hands calmly resting on his lap.

"And my cooking is practically a combination of both Eastern and Western influences, which, I think, is the essence of Filipino cooking."

I stopped talking, too, and decided to wait for Chef Maxwell to do something. Anything. After several minutes, he finally spoke.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked. "It would be difficult to continue incorporating those features of Filipino cooking into what the world currently considers haute cuisine."

"That may be right, Chef, but I have also dreamt of elevating Filipino desserts until they can stand tall and proud against their international counterparts."

"And your interest in scientific cooking would prove to be helpful in that regard." Chef Maxwell smiled. "Modern Filipino cuisine, molecular gastronomy style—very promising, BJ! Now, allow me to have a taste."

He reached for the utensils and started eating. I was happy that he, as if on instinct, pierced open my chicharron eggs, which covered the entire dish in sweet and savory yolk.

"Oh my, oh my! How did you do that? How did you deep-fry the eggs without overcooking the yolk? Did you fry it with the shell, cracked it open, and refried it with the breading?"

Hold up. Did he just say to fry eggs with the shell on?

"Huh? Is that possible, Chef? I didn't think of that. That sounds easier, though."

"I'm afraid not," Chef Maxwell said. "In theory, the air pocket inside the bottom part of the egg shell will expand very quickly and result in an explosion. So how did you do it?"

"Um, I froze the eggs so I could peel them. They had to be pretty old eggs because when I tried doing the same thing with fresh eggs, the shells were practically impossible to remove. Older eggs are a lot easier to deshell once they're frozen. Then I deep-fried them so the yolk would remain soft and runny."