Devoting 13 Years for Just 1% More... Choi Kangrok's Slow Calculation [Limelight]

Winning "Chef's Table: Culinary Class War 2" with Depth, Not Speed
The Strength to Endure a Decade for Just 1%
The Art of Braising Defies the Dopamine Era

Today, the trends in the restaurant industry are centered on "speed" and "stimulation." To increase table turnover, food is stir-fried quickly, and dishes are enhanced with visually striking presentations and performances to capture customers' attention. In this world, "efficiency" has become a virtue, often taking precedence over the true essence of cooking: "flavor."

Choi Kangrok, the winner of Season 2 of Netflix's "Black & White Chef: Culinary Class War," has chosen to quietly resist this noisy trend. He refers to himself as a "braising man," "Braisingping," and a "serial braiser." Instead of putting boiling desire at the forefront, he has chosen the patient path of braising-waiting until ingredients are thoroughly infused with seasoning.

When I met Choi Kangrok on January 16 at a cafe on Samcheong-ro in Jongno-gu, Seoul, he was not basking in the euphoria of victory. Wearing a katsuo (bonito) hat pulled low over his head, he quietly reflected on the gravity of the hard labor that is cooking. Each of his words resonated more powerfully than any stimulation in this era dominated by dopamine and exaggeration.

"I don't have any grand philosophy. Good food is supposed to be bothersome. If you try to take shortcuts for convenience, the flavor will be lacking by just that much. Stirring until your arm feels like it's going to fall off, stubbornly enduring-that's all there is to it."

"The Art of Braising: A Difference of 10 Seconds Decides the Outcome"

In reality, he is a meticulous "master of the senses." He said, "Cooking is simply about managing time and temperature," and added, "I just followed the numbers." This is not humility or strategy. It is an honest confession from a craftsman who approaches cooking as a domain of strict control, not as a vague realm of emotion.

Yet behind these dry numbers lies a decade-long immersion in the world of braising. Choi Kangrok said, "Braising makes you humble." In fact, the taste is different when braised for three minutes versus two minutes and fifty seconds. Beyond mechanical measurements, it is a world that cannot be mastered without an instinctive ability to read the state of the ingredients. He laughed, saying, "I enjoy the process of seeking the best within those subtle, ever-changing flavors each time I cook."

Even for Choi Kangrok, who constantly battles variables to find the optimal flavor, there is a sense of lack. He has long admired the dynamic fire-based cooking of Chinese cuisine. However, he acknowledged that his essence lies in "water." Instead of chasing after unattainable flamboyance, he decided to delve deeper into the art of braising, which he does best. Paradoxically, this calm acceptance has placed Choi Kangrok in a unique position.

A Decade of Braising: The Evolution of a Master

His perseverance shone brightest in the final. Just as he did 13 years ago on "MasterChef Korea 2," he made goma-dofu (sesame tofu). This dish requires stirring vigorously while simmering until large bubbles rise, enduring pain as if your arm might fall off. Choi Kangrok said, "As I get older, my arms hurt and I tend to avoid it," but added, "I told myself not to get lazy and to check my own complacency, so I stood before the pot once again."

His intense struggle as a chef has ultimately established "Choi Kangrok" as a genre of its own. While others adorn themselves with flashy techniques and novel ingredients, he has proven an "originality" that no one can imitate through the most stubborn methods.

Upon winning "MasterChef Korea 2," he shared his thoughts as follows: "Cooking was 51% of my life. Having something account for more than half of your life is significant. (Omitted) With this victory, it has become 52%."

Asked again about the numbers after another victory, Choi Kangrok paused briefly before replying, "I think it's about 53% now." Despite the passage of time and winning two intense survival competitions, he increased the proportion by only 1%. In an era that demands "quantum jumps" and "compressed growth," this slow arithmetic carries a weight of "substance" that feels more profound than any success story.

He also does not plan to use the 300 million won prize money for immediate business expansion. Choi Kangrok said, "I will save it as seed money for a small noodle shop when I am older." His aspirations are not to become a "successful CEO" or a "franchise tycoon." Even with gray hair, his vision remains that of a "worker" quietly simmering broth in the corner of a kitchen.

At the end of the interview, he smiled modestly and said, "The best meal is plain white rice with pickled cucumber." In a world full of exaggeration and bravado, the understated and slow approach of this craftsman offers a profound sense of comfort.