Am I the Head Chef Today? (1)
Today, the large wooden barrel sitting in front of Patrick would almost certainly be chopped into kindling once this was all over. Judging by the way the bright red seasoning had seeped deep into the grain of the wood, anything stored in it from now on would carry the faint scent of chili powder. Watching Patrick set up shop in the village hall instead of his own house, the villagers began to whisper among themselves.
“Teacher, what exactly are you doing right now?”
“Hard to say. Making some food from his homeland, maybe?”
“It smells way too spicy for that, doesn’t it? *Cough, cough.* Doesn’t seem like something you’d eat…”
“Then maybe it’s medicine? It’s been a while since we’ve seen him make any. That red powder came from Oren, right? He said it was expensive, something that crossed the sea?”
“Really? If he’s using something that precious, what kind of medicine could it be?”
“How would I know? But if he’s making this much of it, there must be a reason.”
The villagers kept their distance, unable to approach because of the pungent, unfamiliar smell and appearance. They simply watched from afar, exchanging guesses about what the fiery red concoction could possibly be used for. Since the teacher was standing there with his arms crossed, staring seriously at the precious spices, they figured it was best not to interrupt.
The villagers’ guesses were more or less correct. Patrick really was deep in thought.
‘I think I threw in everything that should go in, so why doesn’t it taste right?’
That was right. Today, he had finally decided to carry out the grand plan he had been putting off.
— I was going to wait until the rice arrived, but I can’t take it anymore! My appetite’s completely gone. I have to make it!
The villagers said the worst of the heat had passed, but Patrick couldn’t agree in the slightest. Walking outside during the day still made his head spin like he might collapse, and even at night the sticky heat refused to fade. His appetite had vanished along with it. These days, even cheese-dusted chicken with beer or a late-night spot serving sizzling pork belly with soju didn’t sound appealing.
— On days like this, all you need is cold rice with water and a single piece of radish kimchi on top. That’s the best! Who needs a feast when you can have exactly what you’re craving?
He had finally gathered most of the ingredients. Rice was still missing, so cold rice with water was out of the question, but if he could boil some sujebi and take a bite of kkakdugi, his appetite might return. He had started the project full of confidence, yet…
‘Other people make this in no time. Why has it been this difficult from the very beginning?’
In the novels and comics he used to read in his past life, Koreans stranded in another world would whip up kimchi, gochujang, and doenjang with just a few casual motions. So why was making a single batch of kimchi seasoning turning out to be such a struggle?
“Hoo—”
He went over the recipe in his head once more.
‘Kimchi seasoning is pretty straightforward, right? Chili powder, garlic, ginger, salted shrimp, fish sauce, sugar… does that go in too? Hoo— I think Teacher Baek used corn syrup as well. Ah! Salt too. So when do you add the cider?’
He was certain that anyone who had lived as a Korean had at least seen kimchi seasoning being made over someone’s shoulder. Even households that didn’t make their own kimchi would occasionally prepare a small batch of young radish kimchi or cucumber kimchi when their appetite was low. And even if they didn’t do that, cooking shows on TV or variety programs where celebrities ran restaurants in scenic locations always featured scenes of making kimchi. In short, kimchi-making was practically etched into the Korean soul. Therefore, Patrick had a rough idea of how to make the seasoning. Unfortunately, half-baked knowledge was more dangerous than complete ignorance—just like an amateur shaman causing trouble.
Because he had jumbled together kimchi seasoning recipes, kkakdugi recipes, tips from this person, advice from that chef, and random rumors he had overheard, the result was a strangely vague recipe.
‘Is it because the ingredients are different from Korea’s?’
Even if he followed the recipe he had come up with, it might have been a bit much, but it should have been edible. After all, as long as the seasoning for kimchi was properly balanced, there usually weren’t any major problems. However, Patrick was a complete cooking disaster. Last spring, he had only managed to make pickled vegetables with a fifty-fifty success rate. His hands were cursed when it came to cooking.
“It turned out pretty good, didn’t it? It can’t get any better than this. Weird.”
The bigger problem was that he refused to acknowledge he was a cooking disaster. His confidence was overflowing for no reason. The hands of a cooking disaster moved differently from those of ordinary people. They were the kind of people who couldn’t understand the phrase “simmer over low heat.”
— Why low heat? I’m hungry, so why not just blast it on high?
Saying things like that and making the instructor’s blood pressure spike was an everyday occurrence. Or:
— You need to make a flour slurry? We don’t have flour, so can’t I just use potato starch instead?
They would swap ingredients on a whim and not even realize what had gone wrong. Patrick was the perfect embodiment of all of it. He had been too lazy to peel ginger and used honey-preserved ginger instead, then worried it would make the dish too sweet so he skipped the sugar entirely. He had even nodded to himself and doubled the amount of fish sauce because there was no salted shrimp, and committed the atrocity of using the maple syrup Oren had brought instead of corn syrup. As for slicing a whole lemon into the mix instead of vinegar because he wanted “fresh ingredients,” it was probably best to just forget that ever happened.
‘No, the recipe itself must be wrong.’
Without ever having followed a recipe properly, he blamed the chefs on TV shows.
“Those guys on TV are all the same, huh!”
Anyone who had ever wondered why meal kits existed would have nodded in understanding at the sight of him acting like a sage who had grasped the truths of the world.
“Hoho, Teacher. Goodness, this is really spicy.”
“Oh? Village Chief! Are you feeling better now?”
The village chief, whom he hadn’t seen in a while, looked a little thinner but still wore his usual kind smile.
“Do you need any help? I don’t know how to make medicine, but I can at least handle the odd jobs.”
“No, you should rest. Coming here by boat is already work enough. And this isn’t medicine…”
“If it’s not medicine… Ah! Magical ingredients, then!”
“……It’s a sauce……”
“Pardon?”
“It’s a sauce.”
At those words, the village chief and the watching villagers all had question marks pop up above their heads, which soon turned into exclamation marks.
“Oh my, you should have said so earlier.”
“We’ll help you, Teacher.”
“Me too. I was just standing by because I thought you were making medicine.”
Patrick’s cooking skills had become quite the topic of conversation among the village women. At a glance, he seemed to eat well, but upon closer inspection, most of what he made required little to no seasoning. Whenever he tried to make something complicated, it inevitably ended in failure, so the village had reached an unspoken agreement: “Let’s make sure basic sauces never run out in the teacher’s kitchen.”
“It might be the first time everyone’s seeing this kind of food. Adjusting the seasoning won’t be easy.”
“Just tell us what to do. Whether it needs to be saltier or sweeter. Things like that. You can check the seasoning in between, right, Teacher?”
The women’s words sounded quite reasonable even to Patrick.
‘Now that I think about it, in dramas the head chef never actually does anything, do they? They just stand there with their arms crossed, giving orders like “Do this, do that.”’
So today, I’m the head chef? Oho?
Patrick’s cheeks slowly lifted into a grin. He had always wanted to try it at least once.
“Ahem, ahem. Then I’ll be counting on you. Let’s do this together!”
Patrick’s eyes suddenly sparkled.
***
“*Cough, cough!* It really is spicy.”
“I wonder if it tastes spicy too? Let’s see…… *Gah!* Water! Water!”
Men and women of all ages had agreed to make the seasoning according to Patrick’s instructions. Among the many ingredients, the expensive chili powder that had crossed the sea was what drew everyone’s attention the most.
“Come to think of it, I heard that spicy flavors were popular somewhere down south a while back.”
“Really? As expected of someone from the capital, our teacher knows everything!”
“But is something this spicy really popular? I can barely swallow it……”
Regardless, a few impatient people had already rolled up their sleeves and started asking Patrick what to do.
“What are you going to use the seasoning for, Teacher?”
“Oh, I’m planning to coat radish and cucumber with it and eat it.”
“Coat it? Not boil it?”
“Of course not. I’m going to use it raw.”
“If you’re eating it raw like a salad, do you really need this much?”
Maksim looked at the mountain of cucumbers and radishes and tilted his head.
“How are we supposed to eat all that as salad?”
“No, I’m making it to store and eat over time.”
“Ah! Like pickles?”
“Something like that.”
“Then shouldn’t we salt them first?”
“……Ah.”
At the sound of the obvious blunder, the village women laughed as if they had expected as much. With skilled hands, they trimmed the radishes and cucumbers, sprinkled them with salt, and set them aside before immediately looking for the next task.
“It should be spicy and salty at the base. But it needs a bit of sweetness at the end too. I brought fish sauce because it needs that savory depth.”
“What about the consistency?”
“Thick……? It shouldn’t be watery. It needs to be paste-like.”
“Hmm— Then we’ll need a flour slurry.”
“Ah! That’s right, we need that!”
Patrick belatedly agreed.
“Teacher, why did you bring honey-preserved ginger?”
“Because you have to grate ginger and add it.”
“……? So you put in the honey-preserved ginger instead of fresh ginger?”
“……That’s basically the same thing…… I know it’s not!”
Patrick quickly changed his words after seeing everyone’s dumbfounded expressions.
“Would you like me to make some honey tea? It’s delicious.”
In the end, his status had fallen from head chef all the way down to kitchen assistant doing odd jobs.
“Ugh, it’s so spicy I can’t even taste it properly.”
“Is this bright red color right?”
“That’s what he said.”
“I think the cucumbers are done, sis.”
“Let me see. Mm. You’re right. Let’s cut them into bite-sized pieces, score them with a cross, and toss them in the seasoning. Ah, and we should have the teacher check the seasoning one last time. We need to make sure the taste is correct.”
“Teacher, over here!”
“Yes, coming!”
Patrick, who had been crouching in the corner of the yard with tears and snot streaming down his face while peeling onions, sniffled and stood up with red eyes. At least his mouth was smiling, so it seemed he was enjoying himself. That was a relief.
“Mmm! This is it. It’s perfect, just like this!”
“Ah, I’m glad. I was worried because it tasted a bit different from the one you made earlier.”
The village women swallowed the words they wanted to say.
‘No, what on earth did you make with the same ingredients?’
They couldn’t understand it, but seeing him so happy that his whole body was trembling made them feel oddly pleased.
“It tastes exactly like what I used to eat!”
“It must be the taste your mother used to make, then?”
Huh? My house just bought kimchi from the department store……
“……Yes, something like that.”
He gave a vague answer, thinking that whether it was made by his mom or a factory, the sentiment was probably similar, when Ben’s head suddenly popped in again.
“Teacher has a mom too?”
This brat. Why has he been picking fights lately? You little punk. No more kkakdugi fried rice for you.