Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Campsite (2)
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-From now on, I'll focus right on the cooking. I'm good at this. Don't worry. Just judge it after seeing the final result.
The YouTuber set up his tripod on the kitchen table and started his broadcast. The guy was making a huge fuss with exaggerated gestures and a loud voice. He'd said he'd keep it quiet, but in this empty space with just the two of us, it felt deafening.
I let out a small sigh and picked the most out-of-the-way burner. I didn't want to get tangled up with that YouTuber any more than necessary.
Scrub. Scrub.
I checked if the gas worked properly and washed all the utensils I'd use for cooking. I pulled out every ingredient for today's dish.
Shad, onions, green onions, cheongyang chilies, red chilies, dark soy sauce, chili powder, and so on.
To nail Sister's tastes, all sorts of ingredients piled up on the table.
-Thanks for the ten-thousand-won donation. My knife work's sloppy? Nah. Take a good look.
I ignored the noise from next door and got started on the cooking.
I picked up the knife.
The noise faded away, and I focused solely on the cooking.
The feel of handling the shad, the fishy smell rising from it, the distinct taste of the spring water—it all came alive more vividly.
First up was prepping the shad.
I scraped off the scales with the knife, cut off the fins and tail. Since this was a communal kitchen, I gutted it carefully to avoid any blood. The moment blood stains, it turns into fishy smell.
'Just removing the fishiness won't make the fish taste good.'
Sister had avoided fish all this time because of that one fishy smell. Even if I served her something with no fishiness, the placebo effect could make her taste it anyway.
So I needed to layer in other flavors.
The key was the nutty savoriness of autumn shad.
Autumn shad is loaded with fat. Its fat content can be up to three times higher than other seasons.
I had to capture that savoriness in this braise. At the same time, make it harmonize perfectly with the spices' aroma.
Honestly, it was pretty high difficulty.
Slice. Slice.
I cut the radish into chunks and laid the shad on top.
Now for the braising sauce.
Four big spoonfuls of dark soy sauce, two of chili powder for that punch. I mixed in various spices to make the sauce.
For braised dishes like this, the sauce is everything. Whether you make it bold or mild changes the whole dish.
I scooped a bit onto the back of my hand with a spoon.
Slurp.
The salty tang of soy sauce and spicy kick of chili powder. The sharp garlic bite seemed enough to kill the fishiness, and a subtle green onion finish lingered.
"Hm... smack. It's a bit lacking."
Something was missing. The shad from the mart still had some fishiness, so I'd punched up the sauce to cover it. The intensity was there, but no depth.
"This is the best I can do with what I brought."
I pondered.
Even if I braised it as is, it'd still be delicious. No more ingredients left anyway.
But I'm a chef. No compromising on taste.
I glanced around. Past the still-broadcasting YouTuber, I checked the communal ingredients provided by the campsite.
Ramen, salt, pepper.
Way too lacking to build real depth. Especially ramen soup powder could throw off the sauce balance.
Salt or pepper couldn't add depth either.
"Hold on. What if I use the dried kelp from that guy's ramen?"
I headed for the ramen, passing the YouTuber.
He'd poured a ton of oil into a frying pan and was heating it up. The heat blasted as I walked by.
One slip and that'll catch fire. He'll handle it, I guess.
He claimed he could cook a bit, so I ignored him and opened the shelf.
Various ramens were stored inside, with his "Nugu-ri" brand tucked in the back. As I moved the front ones aside one by one...
-Alright, let's start cooking.
With those words, massive flames erupted behind me. Hot air filled the kitchen, and a shadow loomed over my back.
"Ugh! W-what the hell?"
I sighed and turned around.
The thing I'd dreaded happened. The oil pooled in the frying pan had ignited. The flames were so high they might hit the ceiling soon.
The YouTuber, sprawled on the floor, scrambled up in a panic.
"Water. Water. Where's the water?"
His instinctive grab for a water cup drew another sigh from me.
I hurried over, grabbed his hand to stop him, and at the same time clapped a pot lid over the frying pan from nearby.
"You don't put water on an oil fire. The hot oil meets water and explodes. Best to smother it with a lid to cut off oxygen."
Sure enough, the fire went out in seconds.
I turned down the gas stove flame.
Oil had splattered everywhere, ruining things, and part of the pot lid was blackened. A acrid burnt smell spread through the kitchen.
This wasn't arrogance—it was just cooking inexperience. Still, I didn't like broadcasters much, so it grated on me.
I said something.
"Broadcasting's fine, but don't cause trouble for others. You nearly got yourself in big trouble just now. If that sprinkler was old, it could've turned into a full fire. Got it?"
"Ah... Yes. Yes. Understood. Thank you!"
The YouTuber bowed deeply.
He apologized, so he seemed like just a klutz, not a bad guy.
I went back to my spot and finished cooking.
I soaked the kelp in water for a broth base and braised the shad.
As the fish cooked, a faint sweet aroma mixed with the chilies' spice. Especially the oil from the shad blending with the sauce created pure savoriness.
-Whoa, that smell is insane? Smells like fish, but damn, it's nuts—no exaggeration? I can't even describe it.
I refocused on cooking. Just needed to simmer now, so the YouTuber's mutterings pierced through occasionally, but not enough to bother me.
Bubble. Bubble. Bubble.
Midway, I tasted the sauce. The kelp added a green onion hint, so I tossed in more. I sliced red chilies for garnish later.
-Look at that knife speed. Can't even see his hands. Total pro. Makes sense—he put out the fire without flinching. Wanna see? Hm. Should I ask?
I shot the guy a sharp glare. He shut up and continued his broadcast alone.
He peeked over now and then with a face screaming "just one bite," but no fish for strangers.
"Slurp. This should do."
Perfectly simmered. Plenty of sauce left for moisture, seasoning spot-on, savoriness shining.
I grabbed the pot, ignored the YouTuber's sparkling eyes to the end, and headed back to the tent.
Sister was just lighting the firewood.
White tee and sweats. Even baggy, her curves stood out irresistibly.
"Back? Good work."
"Yeah."
"Oh. Fish dish for night one?"
"Fish is best fresh. We'll have this for dinner, then later grill some more shad with pork over drinks."
(P.S., the prize Hanwoo beef was safely stashed in the home fridge.)
I'd planned to bring it casually, but Sister said no grilling premium beef on campsite grates.
"Hold up. Your hair's still wet?"
"Hair? Oh."
I'd toweled it quick, but the humid kitchen left it damp.
"It's short anyway. Dries fast."
"Still. Come here. I'll dry it."
"I'm fine."
I resisted to the end but still sat on Sister's lap. The blow dryer dried every strand meticulously.
Something about wet hair causing baldness.
Even into my mid-40s, my hair was thick, so I'd brushed it off.
"Let's eat now."
"Know where the dishes are?"
"Up front there. Under the shelf. Yeah, there."
While Sister set the table, I fetched the dishes. A modest dinner spread on the tiny table.
Microwaved instant rice and my braised shad.
Would Sister finally conquer the fishiness?
"Let's eat."
"Want me to debone it?"
"Nah. I'm not a kid. I'll do it."
Sister clumsily picked at the fish. She flaked off some white flesh coated in sauce onto her rice, blew on the steam.
Finally, it went in.
Chew chew.
Her expression stayed cautious the whole time, like bracing for fishy ambush from nowhere.
I took a bite too. Radish, chilies, soy, and shad savoriness—perfect harmony.
Leagues above my old dishes. Still, I was tense.
Even announcing Michelin three stars hadn't wired me like this.
Gulp.
"How is it?"
"...Gulp. Mm! Delicious! Really good! No fishy smell at all?"
She kept ripping into the flesh. Eyes wide, mouth working like a bunny.
Never eating fish before, she struggled with bones. She'd eat well, then spit them out repeatedly.
Autumn shad bones are tough. Braising softens them some, but not grill-level.
I grabbed chopsticks in both hands and deboned.
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.
Each motion unearthed hidden bones. Soon, only pure shad fillets remained.
I piled on extra sauce.
"You're not eating?"
"Saving room for grill. Craving something plainer tonight."
Grilled would have more fishiness without heavy spices. Since Sister skips it, mine to devour.
"Keep eating. I'll prep the grill."
On impulse, I got right to it.
Three shad left. Guts already out, pre-marinated lightly against fishiness. X-slits on skin, skewered on metal rods.
"Looks tasty."
"This'll have some fishiness."
I slotted the skewers into the fire pit's lower groove. Like island survival, hands-on grilling over flames.
Crackle. Crackle. Crackle.
Skin first. That spreads the oil evenly for crisp yet juicy.
Flames licked from oil. Cool night breeze, crickets chirping. Amid the subtle sounds, just grilling meat—we naturally locked eyes.
The mood turned intimate.
Bellies full, prime hot-blooded mid-20s. Atmosphere ripened fast.
"Sis."
"...Yeah."
I set down the cooked fish and approached her. Hugged to carry into the tent, but our plans hit a snag.
Sudden intruder.
"Knock knock. Excuse me. Got a sec?"
The broadcasting guy approached. Grilled pork in hand.
Sister and I sighed.
Mood killed, and our alone time invaded—infuriating.
"What is it?"
"Oh, uh... Sorry if I interrupted. Just wanted to thank you for helping with that near-fire earlier."
"No big deal. So if that's it, mind leaving? As you see, we're eating."
I made my annoyance clear. He got the hint, bowed to go, but Sister stopped him.
"Wait. Sit. Fire? What's that about?"
Her eyes, melting sweet moments ago, now fierce.