Pork
"Hoo..." Why does perfectly grilled pork belly bring such overwhelming satisfaction? Even after just two servings, I feel like I could stop right here and be perfectly content. But no, that's not happening. Not with seasoned pork neck and seasoned short ribs still waiting.
"Hm."
The seasoned pork neck has a nice bite to it. Is it fresh, or...? Who knows. One bite will tell.
I lay a piece on the grill. The meat contracts, curling slightly. The heat's still fierce. In moments like this, I start it in the center, then slide it to the edge once it's mostly cooked. Sear the outside crisp, then finish slow over medium heat. It comes out just a touch more tender that way. Whether it's actually tenderer, who can say? Seasoned meats vary wildly from shop to shop anyway. No point overthinking it.
Obsessing over "this is how it must be grilled" kills half the flavor before it hits your mouth. Grilling meat isn't theory—it's experience. Better to trust your gut: this feels about right over some rigid formula.
Same with cutting it. Some hack away huge chunks that barely fit in your mouth; others mince it so fine you wonder if they're prepping fried rice. Personally, I go a bit bigger than average. More satisfying that way. Bigger you can always trim down; too small, and it just feels lacking.
Ah, perfect. Just enough char spots like little dots. This is my sweet spot.
Meat side first, or fat side? Let's start with the meatier part.
The thick neck sizzles fiercely. Charred juices and marinade caramelize on the coals, flooding the air with that intense, sweet aroma from the whole slab. The nutty-sweet scent of searing soy sauce—it's enough to make your mouth water just from the smell. Perfection.
I go to pop it in my mouth, then yank the chopsticks back. Hot as hell. Nearly scorched my tongue. A hint of charred marinade lingers on the tips.
...Can't resist.
I shove the scorching meat in anyway. First chew: a bit chewy, tough exterior from over-searing, thin caramelized crust like on popcorn. But crunch through that, and the trapped juices burst forth in a flood.
Umami-packed sweetness from the marinade—soy, onion, green onion, fruit juices—spreads across my tongue, infecting every corner of my mouth. No stopping it. This juicy power is an act of god. I was just thinking pork belly might be enough, but nah. More was the right call.
Pork neck's firm. Grilling method makes or breaks the tenderness. Blast it over high heat, and it's surprisingly chewy—sometimes like rubber even when "done." Slow over low, and it melts on your tongue, fluffy and soft.
But low heat's downside: it takes forever. You finish one piece, then wait five, ten minutes for the next. Impatient types skip it entirely. Worst case, half-cooked means all the juices leak out, leaving boiled-meat vibes.
Balance is key. High heat to contract the surface and lock in the sear, then medium-low to finish slow. That's my method. Everyone's different, though—some char it to jerky inside a scorched shell; others eat it blushing rare, half-raw. No right answer. If it tastes good, it's right.
Enough lean meat. Now the fat...
"Ah. Fine meat."
Slightly yellowish fat—not pure white, but that faint aged tint. This kind delivers killer flavor. Unless you burn it black, it shines no matter the doneness. Grill it to a crisp crunch, and it pops juicy in your mouth. Lighter richness than the meat's heavy juices, but profound when molten hot. Cools off, and you miss it. Only fresh off the grill does it sing.
Best part: it holds shape no matter how long you cook. Chewy outside, soft inside. If it's this tender and structurally sound...
"...Alright. Let's do it."
I slap a whole slab of seasoned neck on the grill. Tend to it meticulously, and... voila. Neck steak. The king of satisfaction: one full piece, grilled whole.
Cut it? Eh. Kinda wanna tear into it intact first.
"Mm...!"
Tender! Perfect! Masterfully done. It slices with the lightest touch, though chewy spots remain—totally fine.
"...But it's a bit cloying."
Downside of whole: messy. Big bites smear everything around your mouth. Hoofing it down feels awkward. Too unwieldy.
I snip it lengthwise into six long strips, balancing fat and meat. Perfect size—two or three bites each. Now the charred marinade sweetness explodes in sequence with meat juices and molten fat...
"...Makes me crave rice."
And so, I ordered rice. Damn. Meant to stick to meat only.
Why do seasoned meats summon rice like this?
"Mm."
Didn't notice amid the meat frenzy, but my mouth's swimming in oil from the nonstop barrage. Rice's mild sweetness wipes it clean, refreshing everything. Feels like I could eat forever.
I grill the rest, separating fat and meat this time. Lean pairs flawlessly with rice. Pure fat...? That's booze territory. One chew, and the dense glob bursts, drilling through your palate straight to your brain. Good. Damn good. Clears out any meat fatigue I thought I had.
"Seasoned ribs... Huh?"
...Shredded to hell.
Thick bone trimmed apple-peel style into a massive, marinated slab. Deep scores, long-aged—fat and tendons melted into ragtag meat fringes. But that's reassuring. Real ribs. My god.
Some might complain about the rag state. But anyone who knows meat? Shock and awe. Seasoned ribs at 200g per serving for 7 pt? Actual rib meat? Cost checks out?
Heart pounding. Did I stumble into a true gem?
I gingerly lay the ribs on the grill. Grill's scarred from four servings prior, coals dying down.
...Can good ribs go here? In this humble setup?
"Excuse me, could you swap the grill plate... and add one more charcoal?"
"Of course! One moment!"
Fresh plate, boosted fire. Back on with the ribs. Sizzle—crisp, vibrant, not the limp hiss from before. That's the sound. Lively chiik!, not deflated chiiik—.
Meat cooks fast. Shredded mess hides doneness, but I flip at the right moment. Ah, damn—one lean spot charred. Bone side still bloody. Snip along tendons, severing the fringes. Chunks to perfect size. Bone gets slow edge-grilled, meat trimmed thin—high heat chars the membrane outside while leaving it raw.
Sear brings nutty-sweet marinade smoke. Ready.
...Bravo.
Praise bursts out. Pork neck was great, but ribs? A flavor orchestra beyond. Shredded? Nah, natural harmony. Frayed fat and tendons mingle with scored meat for unreal synergy.
Neck I separated fat and lean to savor each. Ribs? The melty chaos blends into perfection. Bravo, bravo. Feels like applauding.
Instead, my jaws clap nonstop. Umami and sweetness deepen with every chew, fresh heft in the juices. Nonstop chomping—that's the ribs' true ovation.
"Insane. I just polished off a full bowl of rice...!"
...Belt off. One grain per meat bite? Hell, might order another serving or two.
I eat mindlessly. The day's negativity melts away with hot fat and juices. "When you're feeling low, charge the pork." Sage words I once read. Spot on—pork for bad moods.