Garlic Overload
"...Can't use it often."
His jaw did ache a bit, though. A thin trail of drool leaked from the corner of his slightly parted lips. His salivary glands were in overdrive. But his reaction was a touch slow this time. Good thing he was home—if he'd been out, that would've been embarrassing.
"Phew. I'm stuffed."
After devouring nearly four pounds of meat, his stomach twinged faintly. Was it from wolfing down so much pork so fast? Or from scarfing all that kimchi and radish salad at once? Still, his belly felt oddly empty despite the fullness, and his gut was peacefully settled. Satisfaction washed over him, yet it lingered just one step short of perfection. Rice, huh. Should've had more rice. Well, no helping it. Pushing further would definitely upset his stomach. He'd suffered from spicy food not long ago, so pulling back now seemed wise.
"Washing dishes is the worst part..."
Fatty bits between the meat left a light oily sheen on the plates. Most of it was water-based, though, so a good detergent would handle it fine.
"Ah."
Then it hit him—the biggest problem remained. The bear pot. The tiny sink made scrubbing it a nightmare. What to do? ...Well, he'd tackle what he could for now. Worst case, finish up in the bathroom. If he got the grease off first, it should be okay. ...
The next morning.
"Hmm... a bit tough and chewy."
Meat was always softest and tastiest right after cooking. Boiled pork was no exception. Had the muscle fibers contracted as it cooled? It had been tender when he'd portioned it out yesterday, but now it felt firmer. The internal moisture solidifying? Or had he reheated it wrong? He topped it with kimchi, but... it just wasn't as satisfying as before. The chewy texture paired decently with the crunch, but it diluted the pork flavor. Still delicious, no doubt. The issue was how the toughness made it cloy quickly...
"Guess I have no choice but to deploy that here."
His secret weapon. Enter: garlic sauce. A mix of minced garlic, sugar, corn syrup, and more, cooked down to banish the heat and pack in pure sweetness. Picked up a 120ml bottle at the mart for 23 pt. Yeah, like the garlic sauce on garlic pork wraps. He sliced the reheated pork into bite-sized pieces, fanned them artfully on a plate, and squirted a line of sauce over the top. Was it the garlic essence? The sugar and syrup? The sauce held its toothpaste-like cylindrical shape as it landed softly.
Wrap a thin slice of pork around some sauce and pop it in.
"Mm!"
It popped! Not spicy, but sweet! The garlic's sweetness and zing fused, stimulating his salivary glands. The once-chewy pork sprang back to life. Must be garlic's tonic effect, reviving the dying meat.
"Rice is going down smooth now."
The pork's hidden flavors resurfaced, masked no longer by chewiness. Amazing. The sauce was so intensely garlicky and sweet—why did it revive the meat's taste? It could've overwhelmed it easily, yet it synergized, elevating everything. A different feel from yesterday, a different flavor. Freshly boiled pork melted softly with bursting juices; this cooled version was chewy but hearty somehow. The garlic? Or the rice? Pork on rice, dotted with sauce. A heaping spoonful fills his mouth. The sauce dissolves first in saliva, leaving scent and sweetness. Rice follows, melting softly down his throat. Last to linger: pork, garlic aroma, and that subtle sweet tang. Rice's mild sweetness, garlic's bold punch, pork's umami depth—they blend into familiarity. But that tiny twist, that synergy—pure genius!
"With this, I could eat forever... oh crap."
Lingering over breakfast, he suddenly remembered work. Glancing at the clock: cutting it close. Damn. No time for dawdling. He bolted up, scrambling to get ready. Next train... crap. No time to brush either. Save the rest for later? Shove the leftovers in the fridge for now. ...
...Disaster.
Morning garlic overload—must've stunk up the subway. If only he'd brushed... but crammed in with crowds, the smell wafted everywhere. Even after hasty mouthwash and brushing, it lingered. What had possessed him to eat that much garlic?
"...But I can't give up on you, garlic."
That evening, he stocked up on peeled garlic at the mart. Whole cloves were a hassle, so pre-peeled. Oil in the pan, garlic in. Sprinkle salt and pepper, fry till golden-brown. Toss in heaps of sliced garlic, then minced too. Overkill? Totally. No need to eat this much garlic. But his body craved it after breakfast's abrupt cutoff. All day suffering garlic breath? Punishment: straight to his gut, garlic. In go chunks of leftover pork—dried out, rock-hard, chewy as hell by now. Well-fried whole cloves, crisp-sautéed slices, near-burnt minced garlic infuse the meat with garlicky oil. Stimulating? Hell yes. But he was pissed at garlic now. This was payback!
"...Mm."
Of course, straight garlic oil would be greasy, so a splash of soy. Its saltiness tempers the richness. Perfect. He dumps two big pork chunks into the shallow garlic oil. The near-white boiled surface fries to nutty brown. Sear all four sides, strain off excess oil. Onto the board, slice.
A sharp clink as knife hits crispy crust. A smooth swish through tender innards. Juices gush from the cross-section. Crack, crack tackling the fried bottom. Delicious. The sounds alone screamed flavor. He grabs a piece, bites. Garlic-soaked pork crunches crisply yet yields softly. Crust is tough—over-fried and chewy. But inside? Juicy. How? It'd been dry and tough before. Garlic oil seeped in? Nah, interior smells less garlicky. The crust carries the punch; inside, pure pork essence shines. Revived, reborn. He slices neatly, eats wrap-style. Cloying? Kinda. But not really. Grilling might've sickened him faster. Boiled kept it fresh longer.
"...Can't eat more."
Snags a fried garlic clove. Salted and peppered—salty punch. Exactly what he needed to call surrender. And this salty garlic was the perfect excuse. He crunches crispy chips and slices, polishing off the rest. Boiled or not, this much pork tires anyone out. Still, rare to eat so much meat—satisfying deep down...
"...What to do with the leftovers."
Yesterday and today: about 5.5 pounds total. Half gone. What next for the rest? Plenty left, but he's over it. Gotta eat it somehow...
"Hey! I can't take it anymore! What's with all the garlic? Were you a bear in a past life? Sensitive-nosed vampires like me—are you trying to kill us or what?! Hey! Come out here!"
"Ah, shoot."
Too much garlic after all. Should've known spray wouldn't cut it—neighbors would smell it too. Forgot, being home so rarely.
"Isn't this too much? It's not like you live alone—"
"Sorry about that. Here, maybe this...?"
"...Pork? Why so much?"
"Got a ton and was trying to work through it..."
"Aww, I get it. Happens when you're solo—buy bulk, hate to waste, force it down!"
Whew, saved. The vampire neighbor loved meat. She took four pounds home with a grin: "Thanks for sharing! I'll devour it. Oh, sorry for yelling. Thanks again!"
...Lucky break. Quarter down now.
"Hey! Fry garlic with the door shut—"
Ah. Perfect—another quarter handled. Nice. Five kilos cleared... right?