THE SCENE OF A LITTLE DISHWASHER AT A FAMOUS PARESAN WHEN THE HEAD COOK GETS ANGRY IN FRONT OF AN INTERNATIONAL FOOD CRITIC

The “Bogs Pares Overload” on the corner of Tondo is hot, noisy, and smells of garlic. The tables are full of tricycle drivers, students, and workers sipping hot soup.

At the far end of the kitchen, Mang Kiko sits on a small stool. His t-shirt is always wet, and his hands are wrinkled from being soaked in soap and water. He is the dishwasher. No one notices him except the flies he is shooing away.

“Kiko! Hurry up! The bowl is gone!” shouted Bogs, the owner and head cook of Paresan.

“Yes, Sir Bogs, here it is,” Kiko replied softly as he scrubbed the grease off the plates.

Suddenly, the entire restaurant fell silent. A shiny limousine stopped in front. A man in a suit, a handkerchief in his nose, and a cameraman got out.

He was Chef Anton Go. The most famous and most gruff Food Critic in Asia. He is known for closing restaurants that do not meet his taste. He is called “The Tongue of Doom.”

“So this is the viral Pares?” Chef Anton said loudly as he stabbed the meat with a fork. “Looks like dog food. Smell is atrocious. Sanitation is zero.”

Bogs was stunned. “Sir Anton! That’s our best seller! Pares with Bone Marrow!”

Chef Anton tasted the soup. He immediately spat it out on the floor. PWE!

“Trash!” Chef Anton shouted. “Too salty! The garlic is on fire! The texture of the meat is like rubber! I will ruin you on social media! I will have this place closed tomorrow!”

With so much stress and fear of losing his livelihood, Bogs’ chest suddenly tightened.

“Argh…” Bogs groaned as he fell to the floor. High blood!

The people went into a commotion. “Bogs was attacked! Call an ambulance!”

The waiters carried Bogs out. The kitchen was left empty. Chef Anton was left with a raised eyebrow.

“No more cooks? Good. This place deserves to die,” Anton grinned. “Unless… there’s someone else there who can cook food that will be served to me in five minutes?”

No one moved. They were afraid of Anton.

Mang Kiko suddenly stood up from the sink. He shook his hand full of foam. He took Bogs’ apron that was hanging and put it on.

“Me,” Kiko said.

The cameraman and Anton laughed. “You? The dishwasher? Will you cook for me? Hahaha! Go ahead! Show me what trash tastes like!”

Kiko didn’t answer. He went to the wok station.

In an instant, the old man’s appearance changed. His hunched back straightened. His shaking hands from washing became steady.

He turned on the high-pressure burner. WHOOSH! The fire reached the ceiling!

He picked up the frying pan. CLANG! CLANG!

The way he held the ladle was not like a karinderya style. It was the movement of a Grandmaster.

He sliced ​​an onion. TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT! The knife was so fast, you couldn’t see the blade.

Page: SAY – Story Around You | Original story

Kiko started to stir-fry. The smell of star anise, ginger, and toasted garlic spread throughout Tondo. He shook the wok with one hand—the so-called Wok Hei or “breath of the wok.” The rice and meat flew into the air and caught the pan perfectly.

Chef Anton, who had been laughing earlier, suddenly stopped. He smelled the aroma. Familiar. Very familiar.

“That smell…” Anton whispered.

In exactly four minutes and fifty seconds, Kiko finished.

He placed a simple bowl of Beef Pares Fried Rice in front of Chef Anton. No garnish. No art. Just smoke.

“Eat,” Kiko ordered. His voice was authoritative.

Chef Anton picked up the spoon. His hand was shaking. He took a bite.

As the food touched his tongue, Anton’s eyes widened.

The spoon dropped.

Chef Anton’s tears flowed. Not because of the pungency, but because of emotion.

“This taste…” Anton wailed in front of the camera. “This is the taste of the Legendary Golden Dragon Stew that I tasted twenty years ago in Macau! The taste that I have been looking for my whole life!”

Anton looked up at Mang Kiko. He stared at the scar on the old man’s arm that had been obtained from the oil.

“Master K?!” Anton shouted in shock. He knelt down and hugged Mang Kiko’s leg. “Master Kenjiro! Is that you?! The missing Iron Chef of Japan who abandoned his Michelin Stars to disappear?!”

The bystanders were shocked. “Iron Chef?!”

Mang Kiko sighed. He took off his apron and went back to being unkempt.

“Anton,” Kiko said in Tagalog but with an accent. “I told you before, didn’t I? It’s not the expensive ingredients that make the taste. It’s in the heart of the cook. You lost your heart when you became famous, so I left you.”

“Sorry, Master! Please forgive me!” Anton cried like a little child. “He’ll be back.

I’m your student! Teach me again!”

“Don’t,” Kiko replied. “I’m happy here. Quiet. No cameras.”

Kiko turned to the crowd. “Oh, the show’s over. Who else has dirty dishes there? Mine.”

Chef Anton left, tearful but full and full of lessons. He didn’t close Paresan. Instead, he gave it a 5-Star Rating and called it “The Holy Grail of Pares.”

Bogs, who recovered immediately upon hearing the news, became rich. But Mang Kiko? He remained a dishwasher. He didn’t want to promote. He preferred to hide in the back, rinsing spoons, while secretly seasoning the soup when no one was looking—ensuring that every sip the tricycle drivers took tasted World Class, even if it was only twenty pesos.

Because for Master Kiko, true success is not the applause of the rich, but the satisfaction of a hungry worker.