Imagine a world where a French-trained chef from 2025 wins a top cooking competition, then—in the blink of an eclipse—is suddenly yanked through time into the heart of the Joseon Dynasty. That’s Yeon Ji-yeong’s story, and man, does it start with a bang.
She lands in the royal palace—more dramatic than any kitchen—orchestrates a wild rescue by slathering Vaseline in a life-or-death moment, and meets a king whose reputation for tyranny is matched only by his refined palate. When she feeds him, he's moved to tears recalling childhood warmth. I felt that—this isn't just cooking, it's excavating buried emotion with every bite.
I love the fact that food is her weapon and a survival strategy and love language all at the same time. In episode 2, she finds herself in hopeless circumstances once again, as a captive who is told to prepare a sous-vide meal in order to be released. And even her cooking saves her--it reaches somewhere in the heart of the king. You feel that bond heating, becoming tense and painful as well as tender.
But what a weak position that puts her in--not, of course, i
n threading intrigues at the palace and avoiding rival cooks, but in being taught that he can send her to the stake with one poor swab. The stakes of each dish she puts on the plate, that pressure had me holding my breath on her behalf.
In episode 3 we witness the court life that is quite bizarre: she is virtually the special guest in what is virtually a prison, but the king, mysterious, petulant, secretly lonely, starts to depend on her. There is a jester, competitive cooks and political rumors. It was her ability to make people loyal even in a place of fear known as a court that made me want her to win so much.
Then episode 4 includes the royal cook-off. Suppose the strain: there are no swords, but the knives are. Ji-yeong has to cook better than the competition or they will get viciously punished in the palace. Amidst sabotage and court politics, she demonstrates kindness - defending the other chefs - and, to her credit, some well-merited respect. All this whilst acting upon the most critical palate of the world. That was close to the heart--how daring and kind can be when palace-walls are around.
It isn’t the fantasy of cooking or time travel that is special here--it is the fact that food is a medium by which a modern woman can touch the courage of a modern woman, and reach out through time to a frozen throne. I pitied Ji-yeong--she is more than a chef jostled backwards in time. She is a person weighted down by her talents, who has to make do alone, creating her space by mixing and mashing more than ingredients; she is mixing and mashing hearts and memories.
At the conclusion of these episodes I was not only entertained. I was hungry—for more, for her. Want to go deeper? I can walk you scene-by-scene through how her relationship with the king plays out, how ingredients talk, how Ji-yeong modern strength starts to work the politics of the court into the remaking of her own heart.
