Side Dishes, Side Dishes, and Side Dishes
"I... I was wrong... Sorry... Urgh... Blech."
"Hold it in! Just hold it till the bathroom! It's right around the corner! Hang on!"
"Urgh—blech—. Even looking at meat... blech. Makes me wanna hurl...!"
"...What a disaster."
Walking into the office, everyone's in rough shape. Can't blame them. Meat rations come every two days. Five kilos—about eight catties—each time. Today's the fourth distribution day. After scarfing down fifteen kilos so far, of course they're sick of it.
"How about you, section chief...? Urk. You holding up okay?"
"Manageable... but it's starting to wear on me."
The endless influx of meat, the lack of storage space. Even fresh cuts get overwhelming after this much. It's less gourmet bliss and more torture. Less feast and more ordeal.
"At least once today passes, the logistics center expansion should be done, right?"
"We'll see."
Coming back with another six kilos, the office is utter pandemonium. Just having meat nearby pushes employees at their limit. One whiff of the smell, and they're bolting for the bathroom. Excess is worse than shortage—never truer words.
…
"...My body's rejecting it."
Meat, meat, meat. The body rebels against meat. Silent yet honest and loyal, it warns endlessly but never defies my will. But when even the body screams enough, it's truly the limit.
"Sharing it out is getting tough too..."
Divvying up meat every two days—everyone loved it at first. Now they eye it suspiciously. Makes sense. Who gets five kilos delivered every two days when they live alone? Someone even asked timidly, 'This isn't... like, human meat or anything... right?' They mentioned that recent news about the killer who kept bodies in the fridge, sliced them into curry, and shared with neighbors.
I denied it, but yeah, easy to misunderstand.
"Still, starting tomorrow the warehouse expands, so it should be fine."
Relief, more relief. A whole week of meat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner—it's beyond jaded. My body rejects it outright, rationality crumbling under the strain. The body is honest. Intellect might betray me, but the body never will.
So I close my eyes and listen to what it's saying. What does it crave?
…Ah. Of course. That makes perfect sense.
"Today's the day for this."
Is the nearby mart still open? Early evening, no discounts, but for what I want, it's the easiest spot. Grabbing my wallet, I head out.
But boom…
"Damn. Closed today...?"
Mart's day off? Good lord. Forgot about that. They say bad luck strikes on the worst days—today of all days?
"Hmm... nothing comes to mind now... Ah."
Pondering endlessly, it hits me: there's a traditional market nearby. I rarely go, but that should have…
"Welcome~."
"Yes! Found it!"
Of course. Traditional markets have them! A banchan shop overflowing with tempting side dishes in massive tubs. This is perfect.
"How much for one of these?"
"Any kind here, four packs for 30 pt. These are premium, two packs for 25 pt."
"Hmm..."
Cheap. I could buy plenty at this rate. What to try? What to get? Four packs of these? Two of those? Might be too much if I get everything…
"Thanks. Come again~."
"...Did I overdo it?"
Snapping out of it, six banchan packs in a black bag. Oops. Too much? No, no—these keep well. Smart purchase.
"Ah, shoot."
Back home, one leaks broth onto the bag's bottom. Not a big deal, but transferring them splashes a bit on my clothes. Reddish. Gotta act fast or it'll stain. Quickly strip, soak in soapy water. Eat first, then laundry.
Change lightly, portion banchan into small bowls. Finally, heap on rice. Instant miso doenjang soup from the teabag I grabbed on the way—brewed and ready. Done.
"Looks impressive like this."
Six vibrant banchan. Not counting rice, soup, kimchi—this is a proper six-tier spread. Feels hearty.
"Now..."
First banchan with steaming rice—what'll it be? Spicy? Soft? Mild? Right. Start with kimchi, the house staple. Veteran of the table, elder first bite.
Mm. Familiar kimchi. Sour tang that makes your jaw clench and salivary glands explode. Delicious.
With the incumbent handled, first reach: seasoned fernbrake salad. Lightly salted with soy and salt, chewy like meat. The coiled stems taste like soy-braised beef, thanks to the seasoning. A hint of sesame oil brings nutty aroma filling the mouth. Despite the light, simple flavor, the texture and scent give it massive presence.
Ah, yes. Bibimbap. Perfect in bibimbap—doubles the fun. Slightly salty, ideal for mixing.
"Plum pickles... delicious."
Maesil jangachi. Not umeboshi—sweet-salty-sour pickled in soy. Sour! Intensely sour! Salty follows, but sour dominates. Sweet too. Elegantly salty. True glory shines pouring rice into your mouth after the sour hits! Polarizing taste, sure, but among today's haul, this'll last longest. Unlike chomp-all-at-once sides, one or two pieces suffices. Cost-effective pick?
"Perilla leaves... perfection."
Two kinds of perilla leaf jangachi: spicy and soy. In the spicy, anchovies peek through the seasoning. Their umami twists the flavor interestingly. Alone, perilla aroma blasts; with anchovy, sea and land clash in your mouth. Shovel in rice to quell the war—bottomless pit vibe.
If spicy's anchovy-led warrior, soy's demure maiden. Refined soy saltiness and perilla scent at first. But bite—boom! Intense perilla punch! Proper lady? Nah, tomboy!
Tear off leaves, wrap rice like sushi. Tasty! Rice slides down easy! Body rejoices!
"Two left... these the mains?"
So far, cheap 4-for-30pt stuff. Remaining: premium 2-for-25pt. Will premium prove its worth? Surpass the heavy hitters? Reveal in 60 seconds!
"Feels like a variety show."
Actually rests 60 seconds. Stomach bloated from rice and banchan—down the miso doenjang soup to settle.
…Instant teabag, but rich flavor. As good as restaurant stuff. With time, I'd add fried tofu bits and minced green onions. Or chili-flecked tofu.
"Alright, round two."
More rice. Slurped extra banchan and rice unconsciously during soup break. Irresistible pull. This is real taste.
"Okay then... Mm. Worth the price..."
Flatfish and water dropwort salad. Chewy flatfish, crisp dropwort. Blood-red. Seasoning hides the green entirely. Spicy? Gotta be. This red? No way it's mild. Sniff: subtle dropwort aroma. Stomach growls—despite emptying a bowl.
No choice. Here goes… Mm! Flatfish chewy, dropwort crunchy! Spicy, but sweet-forward. Smooth heat, not jaw-burning. Chew flatfish—tart-sweet juices zing the tongue. Fermented? That funky fish tang's fun.
Rice now. Whoa. Premium lives up. One spoonful can't douse the zing. Two, three… Yeah, three settles it. But addicted palate begs for more.
Another bite. Still zingy, dropwort shining through. Like a treatment: flatfish sting opens pores, dropwort infuses flavors deep.
"Good, so good."
Tension from meat overload melts. Greasy blockages clear. Dropwort purifies blood, Mom said when I was young. Maybe not just feeling—actually happening.