The Hidden Recipe

Chapter Four: Back to the Starting Line

The rhythm of the kitchen was starting to feel familiar. Eddie found a strange comfort in the chaos—the sharp hiss of woks, the clatter of knives, and the constant hum of orders being shouted and filled.

Prep duty, once a source of dread, had become his stronghold. Eddie worked relentlessly, every task an opportunity to prove himself. Garlic was peeled faster, scallions chopped into uniform slices, and sauces portioned with precision. His hands moved with mechanical efficiency, his focus unshakable.

“Singapore’s got skills,” Tommy said one afternoon, watching Eddie expertly dice a mound of ginger.

“It’s Eddie,” he corrected, though his tone was lighter now.

Tommy smirked. “Fine, Eddie. But seriously, you’ve been killing it back here. Zhang’s gotta notice sooner or later.”

Eddie shrugged, hiding the flicker of hope that Tommy’s words stirred in him.

And Zhang had noticed.

Late one evening, as the staff began cleaning up, Eddie caught the chef’s piercing gaze lingering on him. Zhang approached, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression as unreadable as ever.

“Tan,” Zhang said, his voice low and firm.

“Yes, Chef?” Eddie straightened, the tension in his shoulders returning.

“Come with me.”

Eddie followed him through the kitchen, his stomach twisting with a mix of excitement and dread. Zhang stopped at a workstation and gestured to the familiar setup: dough, pork filling, ginger, green onions.

“Show me your dumplings,” Zhang said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Eddie’s heart pounded. He’d been practicing for this moment—not with real dough, but in his mind. Every night, he replayed the tutorial videos and mimicked the motions in the air. He could see the steps clearly: roll the dough into thin circles, spoon the filling in the center, fold the pleats delicately but tightly.

He exhaled slowly, picking up the rolling pin. The dough was soft but pliable under his hands, and he rolled it into small, even discs. So far, so good.

Next, he spooned the filling into the center, careful not to overstuff. His fingers worked to fold the edges into pleats, but his hands were trembling. The first dumpling was lopsided, the folds uneven.

He shook his head, trying to steady himself. The second dumpling came out better, but the pleats still weren’t as tight as they should be. By the third, sweat dripped down his temple, and he could feel Zhang’s eyes boring into him.

Eddie glanced up, his nerves unraveling.

“Stop,” Zhang said, his voice sharp but not angry. He picked up one of Eddie’s dumplings, turning it over in his hand. “Better than last time, but still not good enough. You hesitate.”

Eddie’s stomach sank. He had worked so hard, spent hours preparing for this moment, and yet—he wasn’t there.

“I…” Eddie hesitated, searching for the right words. “I’ve been practicing, Chef. Really, I have. But I think…I need more time. Let me stay on prep duty a little longer. I can prove I’m ready. I just need to get past the nerves.”

Zhang studied him for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. “Cooking is about precision and discipline, yes,” he said finally. “But it is also about confidence. If you cannot trust yourself, how can I trust you to serve our customers?”

Eddie nodded, his cheeks burning with shame. “I understand, Chef.”

Zhang set the dumpling down and gestured toward the prep station. “You will remain on prep duty for now. But the next time I ask, you must be ready. No more excuses.”

“Yes, Chef,” Eddie said, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.

The kitchen emptied out, but Eddie stayed late, as he always did. He stood at the same workstation where Zhang had tested him, his hands hovering over the ingredients.

His thoughts swirled as he replayed the moment over and over. Why did he falter when it mattered most? He knew the steps, understood the technique, and yet his nerves always got the better of him.

“Next time,” he muttered to himself. “Next time, I’ll nail it.”

As he cleaned up for the night, he reminded himself of the stakes. This wasn’t just about dumplings or impressing Chef Zhang. It was about survival—keeping his job, paying his rent, and proving to himself that he belonged here.

For now, prep duty was his safety net. But deep down, Eddie knew he couldn’t stay in the shadows forever.