A Slight Frown
Boss Jang. The same man who, whenever he got bored, would playfully strong-arm me into calling him hyung.
Lately, that same boss had been wearing a glum face.
I couldn't figure out why.
It's not like his sales are bad, right?
Lowest of the three of us, sure—but still higher than most restaurants managed to pull in.
I've checked more than once. He said life had gotten easier because of it.
Even before the food truck, he'd tried his hand at business any number of ways, and he'd told me he'd never earned this much then either.
And yet he looked miserable.
I wasn't the type to just sit and watch.
During break time, I found a moment and asked.
"Boss, you don't look so good."
"Ahem. I told you—not boss. Call me hyung."
He put on a show of being fine, but the gloom still sat heavy in his eyes.
In a moment like this, I ought to meet him halfway, right?
"All right, hyung. What's going on?"
"Well… it's…"
Just as I thought. This hyung almost never hemmed and hawed like that.
"You can tell me. Easy."
"It's a little hard to say. Feels like I'm just throwing a tantrum…"
"So what if you throw a tantrum? Between us, that much is fine."
This was the man who had trusted me, and given up the Youth Mall to come here.
I'd heard the newly opened Youth Mall was doing well these days, too.
He'd walked away from that to join us. I could put up with a hundred tantrums from him.
"Haha. When you put it like that…"
"So go on. Tell me."
"Well…"
Boss Jang finally managed to start, and I sat still and listened to every word.
Yeah. That would get to anyone.
Once I'd heard him out, I understood completely.
"So, to sum up—business is good, but the only thing selling is the pudding, and that's what's eating at you?"
"That's right. Making money is wonderful, really. I'm grateful. I am. But… the main dishes not selling just leaves a bad taste."
"Ahh… like you put your whole heart into preparing something, and nobody notices?"
"!!!!!"
His eyes went wide, asking how I'd known.
"Like if someone would just try it once, something might happen—but you can never quite reach that far. Is that it?"
"How do you know that so well?!"
"Beats me. Haha."
"Seriously. You could make a living as a fortune-teller!"
This kind of thing.
It didn't only happen with cooking. Anyone could run into it.
Putting everything into something and never quite reaching the place you'd aimed for.
Wanting someone to understand, and never getting that recognition.
In your head you keep telling yourself it's fine, keep patting your own shoulder—
but it isn't. It is never fine.
How could it ever be fine?
It couldn't.
You couldn't just leave it alone.
Leave a problem unsolved long enough and it turns into an illness.
A sickness of the heart. And it will eat you from the inside.
The first cause might be simple. Maybe it could even be fixed if you just fixed it early.
Even if no one ever noticed, giving it your all might at least leave you without regret.
Leaving it to fester is the real problem.
Later on you can't even remember how the sickness started, and you wander lost forever.
Boss Jang was standing right at the beginning of that road.
And he had managed, with difficulty, to share that hard-to-say feeling with me.
That was something to be grateful for.
He only could have said it because he felt close enough to me.
Good.
The gratitude of walking alongside someone else.
No matter when I felt it, it was a warm feeling.
And gratitude only grew when you shared it.
Luckily, I had the ability to share it with him and find a way through.
For the record, the method itself was simple.
"All right then. Shall we solve this together?"
"How?"
"It's a cooking problem, so we solve it with cooking."
"What do you mean?"
"The home-style menu. Let's rework it together."
You find the answer in the food.
This time, that food would be Hong Kong home cooking.
"…Are you sure?"
"Sorry? Why wouldn't I be? What's the problem?"
"If my sales go up…"
"Hahaha. You worry about the strangest things. Come on, let's take a look."
I needed to find a menu good enough to blow Brother Jang's fretting clean out of his head.
Direction first.
The character of Hong Kong home cooking was simple enough.
Steaming, stir-frying, and soups made up the bulk of it.
Compared to full-on Chinese cuisine, it used less oil and leaned lighter, and even the soy sauce was less about salt than about coaxing out umami.
Garlic, green onion, and ginger were non-negotiable.
Less spicy, less sweet, less greasy. Clear broths.
That was the style in a nutshell.
Put another way, it was simple.
"Hyung, your seasoning is mild."
"But that's the proper way, isn't it?"
"Ordinarily, yes. That's correct. But we're running a business. Going head-to-head with mild food is always going to be an uphill fight. You've aimed the direction wrong here."
"Ah…! You're right!"
We'd found the direction to fix it.
Now we needed the method.
"But we can't just crank the salt either, can we?"
"Right. Then you'd lose the character of it."
"Keep the Hong Kong home-style character and still hit the seasoning just right… not easy."
"Normally I'd recommend a steamed dish to deepen the flavor. But that would take too long, wouldn't it?"
"Exactly. That's why I cut the steaming. The more time it takes, the harder it is to hit the unit cost."
"True. Miss the unit cost and the whole thing's a waste."
"We're doing this to run a business, after all."
"Hmm…"
Finding a concrete method wasn't simple.
Push the seasoning too hard and you risked losing the style.
Add a point of interest like steaming, and time became the problem.
So we needed something that developed flavor the way long-simmered steam dishes did—without driving up the cost.
And as it happened, there was something that fit Korean palates perfectly.
"Ah…! I've got one."
"What is it?"
"How about soup?"
"Soup? You want to go with soup? That takes time, too…"
"Something we can serve the way you serve seolleongtang. Here's what I'm thinking."
I found the answer in soup.
And among soups, there was one that could give off just the right exotic feel.
It was—
"Apple soup, coming right up!"
Apple soup.
The first thing that came to mind when you heard the word apple.
"You make soup out of apples?"
"Yes."
"There's nothing red in here. I mean, fine, you peeled them, but… I don't see anything that looks like an apple at all."
"Right? Haha."
It wasn't that bright red apple he was thinking of.
"It's apple, yes. Just not the apple you're picturing."
"Then what?"
"Before I explain—would you try this vegetable first? The green one."
"Sure!"
Following Brother Jang's lead, the customer took a spoonful along with the unfamiliar green vegetable.
His eyes flew open.
"The flavor's deep… but it's different from any vegetable I usually eat?"
"Right? That's the apple."
"This is an apple? It's green."
"Haha. Yes. In Hong Kong, they call this apple."
"That's exotic."
"Isn't it? And if I tell you what we call it in Korean, you'll be even more surprised."
"Oh? What is it?"
My smooth-operating hyung explained in a voice meant to carry to the other customers as well.
With everyone's attention on him, he dropped the real meaning of "apple."
"In Korean, that apple is loofah."
"!!!!"
"Loofah?"
"What?"
The customers who had been listening all startled and echoed him at once.
"Yes. Loofah. In Korea we only ever use loofah as a scrubber, right? But overseas, it's actually a pretty common ingredient."
"Loofah?"
"Yes. Loofah. Haha. Everyone, try some."
Brother Jang naturally brought over the little bowls of soup he'd prepared in advance and started handing them out.
An impromptu tasting opened up in an instant.
"Whoa…"
"It's good."
Ease settled over the faces of the customers as they each took a bite.
There was a depth of flavor that was hard to pin down with ordinary words.
"It's clearer and lighter than you'd expect."
"It is!"
"And deep, right?"
"Yes!"
Brother Jang timed his appraisal of the taste perfectly, and the customers nodded along in agreement.
Everyone looked satisfied.
And Brother Jang wasn't about to stop there.
"All right—and now for the grand finale. These little bowls aren't quite enough, are they?"
"No!"
"For everyone who came today, a full bowl each, on the house."
"Woooah…!"
"Hang tight!"
He served them out.
"Woooah…!"
"Thank you!"
Once with the exotic, delicious food.
Twice with the explanation of the flavor.
Three times with the free servings.
Brother Jang pulled off a triple hit without missing a beat.
And then—
"I'll take an apple soup too!"
"Me too!"
"One for me as well!"
In no time at all, he'd struck gold.
More and more people were eating with real pleasure.
My gimbap and ramen, and now Hong Kong home cooking on top of that.
It had started with apple soup, but a few more soup dishes would be joining the menu soon enough.
A rotating weekly soup would keep adding color to the Hong Kong style.
Even just that would keep the success rolling.
Nice.
Finding a problem together, solving it together, and coming out with a result this good.
It felt so rewarding. So good.
"That happy about it?"
It must have shown on my face. No reason to hide it.
"Of course. Haha. Look at them eating over there. Don't they look happy?"
"Yes. They really do."
"Right? I love that expression. You do too, don't you, Harang?"
"…Yes!"
My answer must have pleased her a great deal. Harang watched the customers for a long moment, and a full, contented warmth settled over her face.
She would, wouldn't she.
She was someone who loved the look on people's faces when they enjoyed food she'd made.
Someone who grew happy when her customers were happy.
And that was also why I'd been waiting.
It's about time one of them said something.
Harang, who loved cooking.
Jinwoo, who put on a bright face but clearly had something on his mind.
I'd been waiting for one of those two to finally come talk to me.
Whatever it was, I could listen properly now.
And I'll be happy, too.
Because we'd keep moving forward together. So I was waiting for that moment.
But then again.
Just because you're waiting doesn't mean only good things show up.
"Hello. Are you the owner?"
"Yes. And you are?"
"If you have a moment, would you mind speaking with me?"