The Magic of MSG
Son Da-eun, the owner of the snack shop, took a bite of the tteokbokki Hura handed her.
“……!”
Her eyes widened in an instant.
It wasn't any dramatic change in flavor—just a single step up in taste. It was her own cooking, yet somehow not quite. It felt like magic had been worked on it.
How is this possible?
Son Da-eun silently picked up another piece of tteokbokki and ate it. The first bite had been like the gentle ebb tide at the beach, but this one crashed over her tongue like the incoming flood.
“……!”
No way. This taste is…!
Her tteokbokki had been the result of endless efforts to mimic what she considered the best: the tteokbokki her mother had made in a frying pan when she was a child. That warm, nostalgic flavor. After hundreds, thousands of trials and tweaks, this was the recipe she'd perfected.
But it wasn't her mother's tteokbokki from memory. It was similar, but different. It aimed for perfection, yet fell short. The result was merely a tteokbokki that resembled the one in her recollections. Something—2%—was missing, no matter what she tried. Hundreds more attempts hadn't bridged that gap. She couldn't fill it.
So Son Da-eun had run the shop all these years with that 98% version, the closest she could get.
But this tteokbokki was different. It was the warm, maternal tteokbokki from her cherished memories. The complete one she'd always longed for.
Tears briefly welled in her eyes.
Ah, yes. This was the taste.
Snapping out of her daze, her gaze settled on one person: the young chef watching her anxiously.
Son Da-eun quickly wiped her eyes and turned to Hura, who was awaiting her verdict.
“Hura.”
“Yes, ma'am?”
She looked steadily at the young chef and slowly nodded, a pleased smile spreading across her face.
“...It's delicious.”
“Yesss!”
Hura pumped his fist like an uppercut into the air.
“—No, wait.”
He flinched, glancing at her reaction, and sheepishly lowered his raised hand.
“I mean, uh, we did it! Wooow...!”
Son Da-eun burst out laughing at his timid joy.
“Hahaha!”
“W-Why are you laughing?”
“Haha! It's nothing.”
She toned her laughter down to a smile and asked Hura,
“Hura.”
“Yes, ma'am?”
“What did you add?”
Hura grinned slyly, twisting his mouth.
“MSG.”
“……!”
I answered confidently.
“MSG.”
That's right. The identity of that white powder was none other than the embodiment of umami, the magic dust of modern society, the unjustly maligned unsung hero: MSG.
“Delicious, right?”
“Incredibly so! I never imagined a tiny bit could elevate my cooking like this.”
“Right? Right?”
It had gone exactly as planned—I was thrilled. I beamed.
“...But we can't sell this.”
The owner said it with a bitter expression.
“Huh? But you said it was delicious.”
“People don't like MSG.”
“Why? Because they think it's bad for you?”
“...Yes.”
She nodded quietly, reaching for a bowl to scoop out the tteokbokki I'd made.
Thud—I grabbed her arm.
“Ma'am, MSG isn't bad for you. If anything, you could say it's good for you.”
Of course, I knew all about the bad rumors surrounding MSG. I used to share that negative view myself. Humans have an instinctive fear of the unknown.
But now I could say it with confidence: MSG isn't harmful. In fact, it lets you cut down on sodium for better health.
What had I been doing in the wee hours of the morning, wide awake? Researching every scrap of info on MSG I could find.
First off, MSG isn't some artificial chemical like most people think. It's a naturally occurring substance in plants and animals. Even its production uses microorganisms through fermentation—the same process as kimchi. You harvest the MSG they produce.
In one sentence: “Not a chemical seasoning, but a highly purified, safe umami concentrate from natural glutamic acid.”
“Ma'am, the U.S. FDA and WHO have confirmed MSG as a safe additive. They haven't even set a daily intake limit.”
“…….”
“The U.S. National Institutes of Health and the American Dietetic Association recommend it to reduce sodium intake.”
“…….”
“Few seasonings have as much proven safety data as MSG.”
“…….”
“Take instant ramen: people fret over FDA-approved MSG, but they're eating seasonings the FDA actually regulates.”
“…….”
“Governments and research institutions worldwide have verified its safety repeatedly, yet folks ignore that for seasonings proven harmful in excess. It's absurd.”
“…….”
“Glutamic acid is the most abundant amino acid in breast milk. If MSG were that toxic, babies would be growing up on poison.”
But even then, she just gazed at me with a wistful smile, saying nothing.
“Glutamic acid couldn't harm you even if it tried… right?”
In the midst of my tirade, realization hit me late.
“...Ma'am.”
“Yes~?”
“You already knew? That MSG isn't bad for you at all?”
“Of course~”
She smiled brightly.
“Then why…”
“People believe what they want to believe.”
Her smile seemed a touch sad.
“Huh? What do you…”
“Truth doesn't matter much. What people think is true does.”
“…….”
“The food industry serves people. Without customers enjoying our food, our cooking means nothing.”
I'd heard those words before. During the Cook's Qualification quest, maybe?
[Quest recalled from memory]
“People believe MSG is harmful. If they find out we used it, they'll stop coming.”
“…….”
“So let's just enjoy this ourselves. Got it?”
She forced a smile as she scooped tteokbokki into the bowl. I couldn't stop her anymore.
Had she never considered it? After decades in the business? No, she knew. She knew how terrifying people's misconceptions, hatred, and backlash against MSG could be. How deeply rooted that wrong perception was.
But. But still.
Was that really right?
“Ma'am.”
“Yes?”
“Why did you start cooking?”
At my out-of-left-field question, she blinked.
“Uh... well?”
“I want to hear why.”
Seeing my serious face, she rummaged through her memories haltingly.
“Hmm... I don't remember exactly why I started, but I can tell you why I keep doing it.”
I nodded encouragingly.
“Seeing customers enjoy my food—it fills me with such pride.”
A warm smile lit her lips.
“I think that's why I keep going. To see those faces.”
I nodded.
“Same for me.”
I gathered my thoughts and spoke.
“All the people who've enjoyed my cooking. My parents, the kind uncle, my sister, my red-haired friend. And the countless folks who've laughed and cried over it.”
“Seeing them savor it, smiling wide—it makes my life feel meaningful.”
She met my eyes warmly and nodded.
I held her gaze without flinching.
“Ma'am, this isn't right.”
“Pardon?”
“Just because people believe it doesn't make falsehood true. Pretending otherwise because customers dislike it—does that fix it?”
“…….”
“We could serve even tastier food, but choosing not to—that's deception, isn't it?”
“……!”
She bit her lip lightly.
“You might be right.”
“…….”
“But there's nothing we can do. The world's harsh. It doesn't forgive. Say we use MSG, and customers vanish overnight. Complaints from parents, reports everywhere. In this business, reputation is everything.”
I dismissed her worries in one breath.
“Then don't say anything.”
Her eyebrows shot up.
“You mean lie to customers?”
“Not lying. Just not mentioning it.”
“That's the same thing!”
She said incredulously.
“And customers have sensitive palates. Even if we don't say, they sniff it out like ghosts.”
“...MSG taste?”
“Yes. We don't use it, but I talked to ladies from other shops. Even a little, and customers complain about the MSG flavor.”
I couldn't help but chuckle. What? MSG taste?
“...Why laugh?”
“Ma'am, ever tasted MSG in a tomato?”
“Pardon?”
“Anchovies, onions, radish, kelp, cheese, meat, fish, beans, etc. You don't call out MSG every time. It's a natural substance in them.”
To reiterate, MSG occurs naturally in plants and animals. Making stock from anchovies and kelp extracts their MSG. Saying no MSG in cooking is like no garlic but using garlic sauce.
Strictly speaking, tteokbokki already has MSG. Same for most foods. Eat protein, and at least 10% is glutamic acid—MSG. It's one of ~20 amino acids in proteins. Adding purified MSG powder just boosts that umami a notch.
“Tteokbokki already has MSG. Customers eat yours without complaining. A bit more? They won't notice.”
“B-But other ladies say customers spot it right away…”
I grinned.
“Precisely this product, I bet.”
I pulled something from my pocket: brown powder.
“Huh? That's…!”
“Yep. Beef-flavored dashi.”
When people say “seasoning taste,” it's usually this. 15-20% MSG, rest a mix of flavor powders. So customers detect the 80-85% unique seasoning blend.
“But we'll use this instead.”
I pulled out another bottle: pure white powder inside.
“Pure MSG, nearly 100%, no added flavors.”
I was confident, thanks to my hectic morning.
This morning, at the local mart near home. Door opened—I barged in.
Bang bang!
“Auntie! Open up!”
“…….”
“It's opening time! Unlock the door!”
“Aigoo, damn it! What's this?”
“It's 7:30, ma'am!”
“7:25!”
“Same difference!”
I swept up every MSG-containing product by type. Tasted them all at home.
“Nom nom. Urk.”
Analyzed contents, researched diligently. This winner emerged.
MSG isn't magic dust you dump in blindly. Too much? Greasy and unnatural. Too little? No difference. It shines in small amounts on good food—like a pearl necklace on a pig won't make it pretty.
I oppose dumping MSG to mask poor ingredients or skills. But the owner's cooking? Perfect candidate. That pinch fills the 2% perfectly. Elevates it. The finishing touch—drawing the dragon's eye. The magnificent dragon awaits; just add the pupil, and it soars into the clouds.
One final step.
“What'll it be, ma'am?”
“…….”
“That's my take. Your call—it's your cooking, after all.”
“…….”
She stared at the tteokbokki I'd made. Specifically, the bowl with just a spoonful of MSG atop it.
Swoosh—she silently scooped the rest into the bowl.
“…….”
Yeah. I get it. Too risky for her. She has her responsibilities as owner.
I smiled bitterly, watching with regret.
She transferred all the tteokbokki, then started popping pieces into her mouth.
“……?”
“Hura, what are you doing?”
“Huh?”
“Add MSG to the sauce before customers arrive!”
“……!”
I grinned wide and got to it.
“Yes!”
Measured just the right amount with a cup—not too much, not too little—and mixed it into the sauce.
“Hee hee hee.”
As I gleefully stirred, she tossed out casually,
“It'll taste even better—more customers. You okay with that?”
“Ah.”