The Taste of Love Starts in the Kitchen (GL) - Chapter 31

After a 15-minute break, the main course round began, still under the 45-minute time limit.

The contestants, who had initially struggled, were gradually adapting to the new kitchen atmosphere. Sheng Fan stood before the judges, his gaze focused and sharp, like a predator eyeing its prey.

When he realized the judges were watching, he raised an eyebrow slightly, his face hiding a confident smile.

Holding his knife, his movements were swift and precise, each cut made with such speed it was like lightning. The ingredients moved gracefully with his technique, the knife flashing as if it were a high-speed vegetable cutter.

Meanwhile, everyone’s attention turned to Song Baili, who was gently turning a banana. Her brow relaxed, and a soft blush appeared on her face, radiating a healthy and natural glow.

Her movements were smooth and rhythmic, almost as if she was following a melody in her mind.

In this tense atmosphere, some were cautious, their faces serious, a thin layer of sweat on their foreheads, every movement deliberate and methodical.

Others were forceful, their eyes intense, each gesture exuding power, a sense of unstoppable momentum.

A few others remained calm, their expressions composed, moving confidently, as if they fully understood the situation before them.

Looking around, it was like a battlefield—each contestant distinct in personality, each one fighting to find their own footing.

Everyone was using fresh, bone-in chicken as their main ingredient. Some sizzled the chicken in a hot pan, making a crackling sound, while others roasted the skin to a golden, crispy perfection. A few placed their chicken in wide-mouth clay pots, slowly stewing it with fresh vegetables.

Song Baili took out a carefully prepared seasoning, sprinkling it gently over each boneless chicken thigh. She massaged it with her fingers before setting it aside, allowing the meat to absorb all the delicious flavors.

As time passed, the marinating chicken began to release a mouthwatering aroma. When the oil in the pan heated up, sizzling sounds filled the air. She carefully placed the chicken into the hot oil, and after a moment, she used a spatula to turn the pieces, ensuring each side touched the bottom of the pan.

She adjusted the oven’s temperature and timer. After a while, the temperature inside the oven climbed. She opened the door and placed the golden, crispy chicken inside.

The air was gradually filled with the scent of spices and meat juices, the mouthwatering fragrance rising, warming the hearts of everyone in the room.

While others used avocados as a side, Song Baili took a unique approach, quietly switching to bananas.

She carefully selected half-ripe bananas and prepared a special sauce. With a gentle touch, she flipped the slightly charred banana slices in the bowl, mixing them until the bananas softened and became juicy, intertwining with the sweetness of the sauce, releasing an irresistible aroma.

There were many variations of sauces for the meat. Some stuck to tradition, using black pepper or mushroom sauce. Others took risks, creating banana sweet sauce or blending Eastern and Western flavors with a spicy Sichuan sauce.

At this moment, a strange scent filled the air. It was a mix of tempting chocolate sweetness with a subtle spicy kick.

The unique fragrance piqued the curiosity of some, who paused and looked around, inhaling deeply, trying to decipher the ingredients.

Dominique suddenly stood up from her seat, walking lightly in pursuit of the fragrance. She stopped beside Song Baili, curiously leaning in. She took a spoon, bent down, and carefully scooped a spoonful of sauce.

The deep brown sauce shimmered slightly as she observed its thickness and texture, then sniffed it before bringing the spoon to her lips. The first taste was a perfect balance of sweet and spicy, an unexpected but harmonious combination.

It was an overwhelming sensation of flavor.

She paused for a moment, a subtle look of surprise crossing her face. Her tongue gently brushed her lips, and her expression became more animated. She closed her lips, set the spoon down, lifted her chin slightly, and smiled at Song Baili.

The judges’ comments on Song Baili’s dish were:

“In such a tight timeframe, boneless chicken thighs were undoubtedly a wise choice, ensuring the meat absorbed all the flavors.

Normally, chicken would go straight into the oven, but she took a different approach, frying it first to retain the juices, making the skin crispy and the meat tender. The contrast of textures worked in perfect harmony.

The lightly roasted banana was a tempting aroma, cleverly replacing the avocado.

Taking such a bold step with a salad, she didn’t hesitate to think outside the box, and the gamble paid off beyond expectations. The result was astonishing.

The chocolate-spicy sauce was not as heavy as expected. Instead, it offered a bitter yet mellow undertone, striking the perfect balance between salty and sweet, while the lingering spiciness cut through the oiliness of the chicken and blended beautifully with the sour-sweet banana salad.

The dish was rich in flavor, yet not chaotic, each flavor resonating in harmony. Every bite was a unique journey for the taste buds.”

The scorecards on the table were busy as the judges scribbled their numbers. Sometimes their eyes met, sometimes they lowered their heads to revise their scores, each number carrying deep thought.

Dominique rested her chin on her hand, staring at the numbers on her card, deep in thought.

Li Shao kept adjusting his sitting position, his fingers lightly tapping the table.

Mr. Qian furrowed his brow, unconsciously rubbing the edge of his scorecard. Qian Qian appeared lost in thought, her expression distant, as if wandering in her own mind.

Finally, the dessert round arrived.

In one corner of the kitchen, the sound of the oven preheating blended with the ticking of the countdown clock. The passage of time felt especially intense, and the air was filled with the subtle aroma of baking, mixed with the inviting scent of chocolate.

The dessert creations began to take shape, each contestant’s forehead glistening with beads of sweat. With only a few minutes left, they moved with skillful precision, carefully placing their freshly baked, chocolate-scented desserts onto plates.

They handled the fruits with finesse, decorating them with swift, delicate movements, and finally dusting them with powdered sugar, completing their final masterpiece of the day.

Sheng Fan had put his heart and soul into his molten lava cakes, a dessert he made daily. Even under the pressure of the competition, his movements were smooth and effortless, as if the process were second nature, as simple as breathing.

The molten lava cake required just the right baking time to showcase its soft exterior and silky molten center.

If undercooked, the cake would collapse into a black heap, like lava flowing from a volcano.

But if overbaked, the liquid core of the chocolate would disappear, leaving just a regular chocolate cake.

The judges’ eyes shifted from cake to cake, inspecting each one carefully. They whispered among themselves, occasionally exchanging quiet words.

After tasting every dessert, their expressions may have remained silent, but their eyes spoke volumes.

Sheng Fan’s cake was covered with a layer of glossy chocolate sauce. When he gently poked the cake with a fork, the chocolate liquid, like black amber, slowly started to flow out, resembling an enchanting chocolate waterfall.

The soft, moist cake blended with the smooth chocolate liquid, releasing subtle sweet flavors that filled the mouth. A deep, rich taste flowed over the tongue, accompanied by a lingering aftertaste, leaving an unforgettable sensation.

Song Baili’s cake, on the other hand, had some cracks on its surface, like the fine textures found on natural rocks. As she gently tapped it with a fork, the crust made a crisp sound and released a faint caramel aroma.

When the knife was slowly applied, the thin, crisp crust made a slight cracking sound, and the liquid inside flowed out like molten lava. The contrast between the crispy exterior and the soft, dense interior was like cotton candy melting in the mouth, with a delicate sweetness mixed with a fresh, elegant salty flavor.

The taste wasn’t just a treat for the palate—it was a soul-stirring experience.

In Boss Qian’s kitchen, tradition was the main focus. Everyone followed the established pattern: vanilla ice cream stood tall in the center of a white round plate, garnished with mint leaves around the edges.

But Song Baili chose a deep blue seed plate.

Greek yogurt, like a blanket of white snow, spread across the blue base, with ripe strawberries and glossy blueberries as accents, like the bright spots on a color palette. From the flavors to the plating, her dessert led a new trend with its unique style.

In the previous rounds, whenever the judges tasted Song Baili’s dishes, Sheng Fan’s eyes would often unintentionally flicker over to them. He saw how their expressions brightened every time they tasted her food, and how they instinctively took a few more bites, with compliments flowing endlessly.

This made Sheng Fan feel an indescribable pressure. He tried to maintain a graceful smile, but his movements were slightly stiff. In his eyes, there was a flicker of struggle and anxiety, as he felt the loneliness of being forgotten, like an insignificant figure lost in the crowd.

The same batch of chocolate and similar ingredients fell into the hands of different people, and while everyone seemed to follow the same steps, only Song Baili’s cake left a lingering, rich sweet bitterness, with the scent of chocolate continuing to echo in the mouth.

A subtle atmosphere filled the room, with everyone’s expressions varying.

Boss Qian picked up his fork. With each bite, the wrinkles on his forehead deepened, and his gaze wandered. Each chew left him more confused.

Dominique quietly observed Song Baili, her eyes shining with an inner light.

It seemed she had found a kind of resonance in the food she created, a deep recognition between artists, a silent understanding beyond words.

Meanwhile, in another corner, Li Shao, seated in the VIP section, ignored the surrounding etiquette and ceremony. He eagerly devoured the food on the table, his mouth stuffed full, his facial expression slightly twisted, as if fighting for the last bite of food out of hunger.

Boss Qian sat with the judges. He closed his eyes and lightly tapped his forehead with his fingers. The action repeated as though pressing a switch deep in his mind.

After a moment of reflection, he slowly opened his eyes, his fingers loosening the grip on his glasses. He removed them, his gaze turning toward Song Baili with an inquisitive look, his thick eyebrows slightly raised as his fingers gently stroked his chin.

Finally, he could not resist asking:

“Xiao Song, how did you make the cake’s surface so crispy?”

“I added some cornstarch to the flour and more egg yolk. Even if the cake is left for a while, it stays crispy.”

As her words ended, the air seemed to suddenly fall silent.

Everyone’s gaze turned toward Song Baili, their faces like blank canvases, showing no emotional shifts. Deep within their hearts, various thoughts swirled.

In this brief moment of silence, Sheng Fan’s brows furrowed slightly, his lips murmuring softly. His expression gradually hardened into one of arrogance and disdain.

“I taste a hint of saltiness. Did you add sea salt?”

“Yes, I added a little sea salt, and I’ve always liked using salted butter for desserts.”

Before her words could fade, someone could not help but mockingly laugh:

“Adding salt to dessert? Isn’t that strange?”

“Salted butter? Does she have a problem with her taste buds?”

“What kind of nonsense is this…”

The atmosphere in the room became tense, laughter filling the air but carrying a sarcastic tone.

Sheng Fan, however, didn’t even glance at them. His gaze was cold, and his lips curled into a bitter smile.

“Everyone, quiet down!”

Li Shao’s voice thundered through the room, his sharp gaze sweeping over the group.

They immediately froze, as if petrified, quickly hiding their smiles and standing rigidly, no longer daring to slacken.

Boss Qian furrowed his brow, shaking his head lightly as he watched the apprentices he had personally trained, a sense of distaste rising in his heart.

He sighed deeply and, when he turned toward Song Baili, the cold and serious demeanor he had earlier dissolved. His gaze softened.

“How did you make your chocolate more aromatic, with a richer taste than the others?”

Song Baili paused for a moment, her gaze focused ahead. Her fingers, behind her back, gently kneaded together, as she weighed the benefits and risks of revealing her cooking secret.

After some thought, she slowly lifted her eyelids, her lips moved slightly.

“I used some coffee powder.”

“Just coffee powder? That’s so amazing?”

“This is the magic of cooking.”

A heavy silence hung over Boss Qian. He pressed his lips together, remaining silent, his hands cradling his chin, his fingers lightly stroking it. The lines on his forehead deepened as his gaze wandered, as if he had fallen into the echoes of their conversation.

“The magic of cooking” seemed to strike a chord deep within Dominique.

Her fingers trembled slightly, her brows lifted, as if a tiny spark danced in her eyes, shining with passionate light.

She tilted her head slightly, raising her hand to gently touch her lips. As her eyes met Song Baili’s, her lips curled up in a subtle smile, and she winked at her, like a faint electric spark flashing, conveying a profound emotional connection.

Song Baili’s body stiffened slightly, a subtle warmth rising in her, and she unconsciously lowered her head, her eyelids fluttering, trying to hide the blush creeping onto her cheeks.

In Qian Qian’s eyes, the scene was vivid, like an exquisite play.

Seeing one woman cast a seductive glance, while the other responded with a gentle smile, a subtle atmosphere filled the air, as if some hidden emotion was quietly flowing.

Her gaze lingered on the two of them, her heart suddenly flooded with a series of sharp, popping sounds, like the spilling of an entire vinegar jar, the sourness spreading through her heart.