I watched Episode 7, skipped 8 (will watch after this), and finished Episode 9. Let me explain the pressure-cooked chicken soup because I know people are waiting for this. (I’ll explain Eps 7 and 8 later).

A note to the lurkers just joining my critiques of this drama now: I had posited from the beginning that the food featured in each episode isn’t randomly chosen. It’s meant to impart the general theme and overall message of the episode. For example, I said the Gochujang Butter Bibimbap in Episode 1 is about the savoriness of an unexpected concoction of traditional Korean paste and French butter in an original mishmash dish, the bibimbap. The food prefigures the wonderful change in the lives of a tyrannical Joseon monarch and an ambitious 21st century, French-trained chef when these two people are dumped and mixed unceremoniously together by fate…or by some Divine Chef in the sky.

To me, the metaphor of the pressure-cooked chicken soup is threefold.

The first one is easy to figure out. You can see it, right?

It’s about the benefits of working as a team in stressful (or pressured-cooked) moments.

Or as the proverb goes, “Many hands make light work.”

JiYeong had assigned tasks for everyone so that each had their own role in the team. They worked according to each one’s expertise and supported each other. Their collective strengths mitigated the stress of winning this final competition because each one shared the load. Even Jang Chunsaeng came through for the team with the precious lid for the pressure cooker.

The Ming team female cook (what’s her name again? Ya Feixiu?) panicked when she saw JiYeong’s new-fangled equipment, the pressure cooker. She wanted more firewood added to the kiln but was vetoed by the other cooks. Her uncle reminded her to relax as she was feeling the pressure of the moment. To me, she felt that the burden of the competition rested on her shoulders alone, so she made a unilateral decision to speed up the cooking without consulting her elders.

In contrast to Ya Feixiu, Cook Maeng had utmost trust in JiYeong when she ordered more firewood to be thrown in. He ordered the other cooks to do as she ordered. Clearly, he supported her decision because he acknowledged her to be the capable leader of the team.

With their leader and the rest of the team, they handled pressure and avoided defeat.

The second metaphor of the pressure-cooked ogyetang refers to the anorexic chef, Kong Wenli.

In the stressful, high-pressure world of cooking for the monarchs, royals, and elites, Cook Wenli unfortunately developed an eating disorder. Nowadays, this anorexia problem of chefs isn’t unheard of in the culinary industry. But back in the Joseon period, it was unrecognized, undiagnosed, and untreated.

Cook Maeng was skeptical when JiYeong mentioned it.

JY: It’s an illness that makes one unable to eat.
Maeng: That makes no sense. How could a cook have such an illness?
JY: I’ve seen it before. Once their cooking reached a certain level, they couldn’t eat any food.

To me, the way JiYeong explained anorexia made it appear as if the illness came out of nowhere and was suddenly “triggered” when Cook WenLi aced some cooking test (e.g., reached the master level of cooking). I don’t think that’s the case. His anorexia developed gradually.

Like other chefs, Cook Wenli probably began skipping meals because he didn’t have time to sit down to eat until he learned to subsist on very little and starve himself. Or he probably began pushing himself to perfect the taste and aesthetics of a dish that he became too exhausted to eat it afterwards. Or he probably began looking at food as a way to impress his clients with his over-the-top concoctions, thus over time, he forgot to see food as necessary nourishment for himself. Or he probably became obsessed with duplicating the taste of his grandmother’s soup that he acquired a mental block when tasting new food lest he lost the memory of his grandmother’s soup.

The Ming envoy knew of Cook Wenli’s disorder. That’s why he agreed to King YiHeon’s demand to let the cooks grade the dish. Cook Wenli obviously couldn’t grade JiYeong’s ogyetang if he couldn’t taste it.

So, the pressure-cooked chicken is a metaphor for Cook Wenli. Slaving every day in the Ming envoy’s kitchen, he’s being cooked alive in a pressure cooker.

And the pressure cooker is a metaphor for the Ming envoy. His demanding culinary tastes and his unfair expectations made a stressful work environment for Cook Wenli.

Last, the third metaphor of the pressure-cooked chicken soup is about tenderness.

The pressure cooker JiYeong designed made the chicken TENDER, right? 😂

JY: To make food is joy for the cook. And to taste is joy for the people who eat. That’s what makes cooking rewarding, isn’t it? To be honest, it tastes extra good when everything is thrown together like this. Regardless of the result, as a cook, I present you with this food with the hope that you’ll also be happy.

She smiled at him. He looked at the homely bowl of soup, and he remembered when he was young cook and his mother scolded him, saying, “Why do you care so much about taste? Do not be complicated. So what if you cannot cook well? Nothing tastes better than when you throw everything in and cook it together.” And his grandmother forced him to take a sip of her haphazardly prepared soup. He couldn’t believe how delicious it tasted.

Looking at JiYeong’s soup, he was reminded of his grandmother’s soup. He bit a chicken leg and slurped the broth. Then, he was crying and laughing at the same time.

Wenli: This is the taste I had forgotten and missed for so many years. I once was left in shock after tasting my grandmother’s food that was made with all sorts of ingredients thrown in together. For many years, I tried to cook something that tasted better, but nothing I made ever tasted like it. Since then, I have gained the ability to cook without tasting the food. However, the more I cooked, the harder it became for me to eat. (continues talking)
Cook Eom (translating for Cook Wenli for JiYeong): He says you recreated the taste of his grandmother’s food. He says he cannot call himself the best cook, for he cannot surpass his grandmother’s cooking.
Wenli: (gulping the soup)
JY: The most important virtue of a wise man is said to be benevolence. To care and be considerate of others. I made this out of consideration for you, Cook Kong Wenli. The dish your grandmother made for you was probably made with the same heart.
Wenli: I see it now. A cook who can bring joy to both himself and others is a true wise man.
Translator: He says that he has lost to the chief royal cook.

My comments:

a. Cook Wenli admitted that he’d been focused on beating the taste of his grandmother’s humble soup. However, his long culinary quest only led him to develop a very refined palate but nonexistent appetite. In the end, nothing he did could recreate his grandmother’s food, much less surpass it.

b. To me, the missing ingredient here is “tenderness.”

Cook Wenli’s grandmother had cooked the food for him out of tenderness. She saw him obsessing about achieving the perfect taste, so she rustled up something to show him that it wasn’t about the ingredients (like the exotic mushrooms the Ming brought from their land) but the care and tenderness she put in the food.

c. Tenderness = kindness, benevolence, caring, consideration, concern, heart, feelings, love, sincerity, “thoughts and prayers,” empathy, sympathy, compassion, etc.

d. The grandmother was truly concerned about his mental state while cooking, and he tasted it in her cooking.

e. I’m not sure whether JiYeong’s ogyetang tasted exactly like his grandmother’s soup or not. But I don’t think that mattered. In his gustatory memories, the food tasted the same. JiYeong had offered the soup to him in hopes that it would bring him joy. Likewise, his grandmother had offered the soup to him, hoping he’d enjoy the food and be comforted.

The pressure-cooked ogyetang is the chicken soup for the soul. It’s a metaphor for healing that one gets from a hearty meal offered with sincerity and tenderness.

Think about that…and add your own interpretation(s) to the ogyetang. 🙂

You all know that I don’t follow this series for the romance although it’s entertaining enough. I watch it because I’m interested in knowing how the screenwriter and/or director view the world, and how, in turn, they shape the worldview of the viewers. I usually stay till the very end  of a kdrama to deconstruct it when I believe that its writer and director have a worthwhile message to communicate that may be overlooked when viewers are caught up in the emotions, cheesiness, controversy, hype, fanwars, or whatever drama of the moment. I hope this show finishes strong.