Irasshaimase!
Irasshaimase!
Gourmet cuisine.
It was the hottest trend in broadcasting right now.
"Oh, they're filming!"
"What show is it?"
"It's Delicious TV. I watch that one~."
Any program in the genre was a guaranteed ratings hit. And Delicious TV was one of the ones drawing real attention.
Gyo-iku-sang held the main MC seat. At the moment, he was making his way toward a Hankuk University festival booth.
"Hello! Our bulgogi hot dogs are delicious!"
A stall selling hot dogs and beer, pushing its signature item — the bulgogi hot dog — as the star of the menu. Bulgogi was a quintessential Korean dish. And once Gyo-iku-sang got his hands on something like that, a little historical revisionism was nothing out of the ordinary.
"Bulgogi actually comes from Japan, you see."
"……."
"The very word 'bulgogi' is nothing more than a translation of the Japanese dish yakiniku."
But there was a gulf of knowledge at work here. No one could rein in a man who had been dispensing taste criticism for over twenty years.
We're screwed…….
Ddoonddoon, the co-MC, could feel the atmosphere turning ice-cold. The problem was that there was nothing he could do about it. He was just another cast member. What was someone with barely any variety experience supposed to pull off here?
"Bulgogi is built on a base of sweet soy sauce flavor — and that is the flavor of Japanese soy sauce."
"Oh, now that you mention it, the taste is pretty similar."
"Similar doesn't begin to cover it."
"Haha."
Playing along just enough was the best he could manage — staying inside the lines so as not to sour the viewers' mood.
Last time I checked, public opinion on him was getting absolutely shredded.
The communities were tearing him apart. Sooner or later it might blow up into something serious. But the present was the present. As long as the ratings held, Gyo-iku-sang's position was rock-solid.
Gulp.
He needed to steel himself. Find something else before a sensitive topic came up again.
Oh!
Tteokbokki.
No matter who you asked, that was Korean food. Japan didn't have anything that spicy.
"Wow, they're selling delicious tteokbokki over there!"
"A tasteless food."
"Excuse me?"
"Tteokbokki is a food society has brainwashed people into believing is delicious."
"……."
Even that became ammunition for criticism — as if the man despised every single Korean dish in existence.
No. That can't be it.
He just had a lot of antis. This was a man who had spent a lifetime in the food industry. He'd been a taste columnist for decades — Korea's first, from what Ddoonddoon had heard. Someone that accomplished wouldn't say things that were simply wrong.
"Once you start eating tteokbokki, you can't stop."
"Well, it is an addictive food."
"The whole point is the sweet, spicy, salty, aggressive flavor. That is precisely why it is a food without taste!"
"We, uh… we still have to run our booth……."
Or not.
The Latin Club students selling tteokbokki wore stricken faces. This was too big to brush off lightly. Passersby were watching the shoot as well.
"So tteokbokki is a tasteless food, huh?"
"Well…… I don't really like tteokbokki anyway."
"If an expert says so, it must be true~."
Foot traffic to the tteokbokki stall died on the spot. Leaving the Latin Club behind, the production team moved on to the next location.
Ah, fuck.
Something about this felt deeply wrong. But there was nothing to be done. They were already in the same boat. Staying silent wasn't professional either. Maybe turning a crisis into an opportunity wouldn't be such a bad idea.
And right in front of Ddoonddoon, opportunity appeared.
Hankuk University Izakaya
This could salvage the frigid talk segment they were stuck in. The line snaking out front made it look like a proper popular spot. Even Gyo-iku-sensei, with his love of all things Japanese, would be satisfied.
"That one's definitely from Japan!"
"Hm?"
"Sensei, I'd love it if you gave the Japanese food the same cold, rigorous evaluation!"
He kept the tone as cheerful as he could manage. He'd figured Gyo-iku-sensei wouldn't take offense —
Konoyaro!
— but something else entirely had been offended. It wasn't Ddoonddoon. It was the restaurant sitting right in front of them.
Hankuk University Stock Club
He could never forget it. A year ago, on that day, they had tried to drag him straight into hell. That devil of a kid. Whether he was still around or not, one thing was certain.
"Sensei?"
"Ahem! Ahem! Let me say this in advance — I am extremely particular about Japanese food."
"You're particular about Korean food too, though?"
"I am even more so with Japanese cuisine."
A target for venting. He wouldn't feel right until he'd thoroughly crushed them underfoot. No — this went further back than that.
Gyo-iku-sang knew perfectly well that the internet was crawling with malicious commenters who hid behind anonymity and ran their mouths however they pleased.
Every food originates from Japan
His own palate is absolute truth
Looks down on commoner food
What else am I missing?
Ignorant people, the lot of them. He was simply teaching established facts, and they cursed him out because it didn't suit their palates.
I'll have to enlighten them myself.
And for that, he needed it — his authority as a culinary expert. This was the first step. He would reset what had happened here at Hankuk University back to zero.
"Irasshaimase!"
"Sumimasen. Ahem — two seats, if you would!"
A language he hadn't heard in some time. He was so pleased he slipped into his mother tongue without thinking.
At least they seem to have the basics down.
He'd been fully prepared to pick every fight he could find. Hearing Japanese softened him, just a little.
Grit.
But a grudge like this wasn't going to vanish over something so small. Even now, just remembering that day made his teeth grind.
"I'm sorry, but we don't have any seats available…… You'll need to wait in line."
"We're here on a shoot."
"There are a lot of guests who arrived before you, so……."
As if he'd known this would happen. From inside a booth, he was watching the whole back-and-forth between Gyo-iku-sang and the entrance staff. That hateful bastard, sitting there smiling.
Konoyaro……! He set this up from the start to screw with us.
It was calculated. A guy like that was more than capable of it. Just as Gyo-iku-sang's temper peaked and he was about to turn and leave—
"Hey, move it."
"Huh?"
"Aigoo~ Senseis! If you'll just wait a moment, we'll have a table ready for you right away."
"Ahem! Ahem! Every second counts when you're filming, you know."
"We can't exactly force people out, hehe. But for a teacher of your distinguished reputation, I'm sure they'll understand?"
His face transformed in an instant. He was making a request of Gyo-iku-sang with the most solicitous attitude imaginable.
Does this bastard actually have a conscience left in him?
His demeanor was completely different from last year. Gyo-iku-sang found his own attitude softening, just a touch. Perhaps the kid simply hadn't known. A primitive little creature who had no idea how great a man he was dealing with.
"I suppose I can wait that long."
"Ah, a table's free, Sensei! Sorry to keep you waiting!"
"All of thirty seconds……."
"Stealing thirty seconds of Sensei's time is no different from delaying the advancement of gourmet cuisine by thirty seconds~."
"Ahem! Ahem! You know a thing or two, I see."
In truth, gourmet food shows had only exploded in popularity over the past year. Before that, he certainly hadn't been a nationwide star.
Finally starting to understand his place.
Who he was. He'd appeared on so many broadcasts that not knowing was hardly an option. Plenty of companies retained him as an advisor. At this point the food service industry could barely function without him.
"What's on the menu at this place?"
"We're mainly doing ramen."
"Ramen~? I'm rather particular when it comes to ramen, you know."
That didn't mean he was going to go easy. No — he would evaluate them with exacting severity, staking the honor of Korea's first taste columnist on it.
I'll make them properly feel just how magnificent I am.
Last year he'd been far too careless. Then again, it was a university festival booth. Who would have imagined students were using dry-aged beef — Gyeongsan-woo, no less? The focus had been different, too. His goal back then had been packing the broadcast with remarks that would tear down his rival, Cheon Jong-won.
"Ramen's up! As you can see, it's a tonkotsu base."
"Wow~ They're going all out! Sensei, what's tonkotsu?"
"You don't even know that?"
This time was different. Looking at the dish alone, there was no room for error.
These students clearly aren't talentless.
Of course, jumping to conclusions was dangerous. His previous mistake hadn't been entirely unreasonable. They had knowledge well beyond the student level.
Slurp~!
But Japanese cuisine was his specialty. This tongue of the gods would catch every last impure note.
"Sensei! This taste is……."
"Did you pick up on something?"
"It's delicious!"
"……."
Ddoonddoon, brought along for reactions. You could scrub your eyes raw and still find not a scrap of gourmet talent in the man.
With support this inadequate, the burden on me only grows.
Ddoonddoon, the dozens of staff members, the editors who cut the footage — all of them kept their jobs because of him. He was the pillar of this program. Viewers tuned in for him. To learn what true gourmet cuisine meant.
Gyo-iku-sang set his god's tongue diligently to work.
"From a layperson's perspective, I suppose one might feel that way."
"Then it must have fallen short for you, Sensei?"
"Ahem! Ahem! It wasn't a bad flavor."
And then he found it. The secret hidden in this ramen. This was clearly no ordinary recipe. The broth was definitely tonkotsu-based. But there was something else in there as well.
"This rich flavor…… you've used seabura."
"That's right! You caught it immediately, Sensei!"
"What's seabura?"
Pork back fat, simmered low and slow. A fairly common ingredient in Japan. In Korea, most people didn't even know the name. The fact that they'd used it meant they had real skill.
"And the soy sauce…… is this Japanese soy sauce?"
"Khh~! As expected, you can't fool Gyo-iku-sensei's tongue."
"There is no one who can deceive the tongue of the gods."
A few other things stood out as well. Japanese soy sauce, grated garlic, and toppings so obvious they hardly needed listing one by one.
This isn't a commercial soup base. So they must have brewed it themselves.
Looking at the operating margins, that was the profitable move. At a university festival, you could afford not to worry about labor costs. More than anything, his tongue said so. This wasn't that flat, lifeless taste you got from store-bought stock.
"This is a fairly decent ramen. For something sold in Korea."
"Then, Sensei—!"
"It can't compare to the real thing in Japan, of course, but one could say it's passable enough to eat."
For students, they must have put in a fair amount of effort. Separate from the old grudge, he found himself acknowledging it.
Not that I have any intention of building them up.
Out of sheer spite, if nothing else. He wasn't about to sit back and watch this shop thrive.
"However, it seems you failed to simmer the pork bones long enough."
"Ah, well…… that's how it turned out."
"So you mixed in Japanese soy sauce as an improvisation to pad the flavor. A cheap trick, transparent at a glance."
The flustered look on the kid's face was unmistakable. He'd struck the soft underbelly dead-on. Served the arrogant little bastard right. He could afford to end on a slightly kinder note.
"Some so-called culinary expert might let it slide, but I, Gyo-iku, as a gourmet, cannot accept this approach. Immature."
"I'm sorry, Sensei! What should I do?"
"Strive. And strive again."
"Ah~ Strive? I'll engrave it on my heart, Sensei!"
And with that, he exposed the true face of the so-called popular restaurant before the viewers. Gyo-iku rose from his seat with a haughty expression. The student who had received his teaching saw him out.
It seemed the broadcast was wrapping up on a warm, educational note.
"Staff-nim."
"Yes?"
"Could I have a word for a moment……."
In the actual aired episode, the behind-the-scenes story would be revealed.