Mala Tang for the Eastern Dragon
Mala Tang, a dish perfectly suited to the dragons of the East. This Chinese-style hot pot originates from Sichuan, featuring ingredients simmered in a numbing, spicy broth. If I had to compare it to something, it would be closest to shabu-shabu. Until recently, Mala Tang had been selling quite well in Korea too—well, at least before I got possessed and thrown into this world. Its fiery heat matched the Korean palate perfectly, and the clever localization of that signature tingling broth helped it catch on. Especially among young women, it once exploded in popularity thanks to its addictive, stimulating flavor. Of course, being so intensely spicy, it also split opinions. “At least it’s not as divisive as mint chocolate…”
I used to order it pretty often myself. I had some confidence with spicy food, and it suited my tastes. While the numbing broth was great, the real charm lay elsewhere: the freedom to add whatever toppings you wanted. There were no strict rules about what went into that crimson broth. That flexibility made mixing noodles and ingredients surprisingly fun.
Anyway, today I’m making a Mala Army Stew loaded with sausages and ham. “This might end up even spicier than the original Mala Tang…”
Ma (痲) stands for the tingling numbness. La (辣) means spicy heat. Tang (燙) simply refers to a hot soup dish. Why do I know all this? Because I used to enjoy it so much that I looked up the recipes back then. When I lived alone, cooking different dishes was one of my small joys, so I experimented often. That experience let me improvise and create convincing meals now. Yesterday’s army stew was also made purely from memory. Of course, making the Mala sauce from scratch like today is a first. As a Chinese dish, it requires ingredients like doubanjiang, cloves, star anise, Sichuan peppercorns, and green peppercorns—things not exactly common. Even though supermarkets carry them now, buying small amounts is tricky. Since I only planned to make it once, stocking up on everything felt wasteful. So I’d always settled for store-bought sauce or meal kits… never expected the chance to make it properly like this. In many ways, it’s an exciting new challenge. As they say, if you can’t avoid it, enjoy it. Why not have fun while cooking?
—Sizzle sizzle…! Whoosh…!!
The pot is hot enough. The bright red chili oil catches fire, sending flames leaping upward like a Chinese chef’s fiery performance. The roaring blaze reminds me of a fire dragon—an Eastern dragon with a long tail.
“B-Breeder…? Is this actually edible? I feel like my stomach will melt the second I eat it…!”
“Cough—! Yeah. At least it doesn’t look like people food.”
The lamb rat, who had been quietly watching, lets out a worried squeak.
“But making something like this—”
“It’ll be fine. They’re dragons.”
“Squeak…?!”
“Enough. Hand me the ground fire herb.”
“Ah, got it…!”
Now that it’s hot enough, it’s time to start. I need to stir-fry the broth base properly. This is my first time using a wok, so I’ll take it slow. I’m used to flipping pancakes and fried eggs, but constantly moving a huge pot feels surprisingly difficult. Plus, there’s the risk of oil or broth splashing onto my arms, so caution is wise.
—Plop, thud…!
I carefully scoop the crushed fire herb—redder than doubanjiang—into the pot with a long ladle. The herb itself is already spicy, and I’m frying it in chili oil to intensify the heat, just like stir-frying spring onion paste in oil.
—Whoosh…! Sizzle—!
—Roar…!
“Huh? What kind of firepower is this…?”
I don’t know what volatile compounds the fire herb contains, but the moment it hits the oil, a violent column of flame shoots upward as if I’d poured accelerant on it.
“Squeak…! I’ve never seen red thicker than blood in my life…! M-My nose is already numb!”
The lamb rat yelps and flops backward in panic. Well, the loss of smell isn’t an exaggeration. Even with a cloth wrapped around my face, I can’t smell a thing anymore.
‘Did I overdo it? No, I shouldn’t doubt myself. If this level of spice was too much, why would Raylin have given me the fire herb in the first place?’
I hadn’t heard her reason directly, but it was obvious. She wanted something spicier and more stimulating than yesterday’s army stew. Yet what I’m making now looks less like food and more like a hazard. The pot bubbles like hellfire itself.
‘Wait a second. Didn’t the dragons almost die from mint chocolate too? Maybe this really is dangerous…’
My resolve keeps wavering. The visual is genuinely murderous. That vivid scarlet looks like it could dissolve a stomach on contact.
—Sizzle sizzle…!
I hesitate for a moment, but it’s far too late to stop now. The deed is done. I have to see it through. In the end, I stir the fire herb into the oil with the firm belief that dragons can handle this much. Whatever. I’ll just make it and worry later. The fire is already blazing hot. Besides, there’s really no need to worry. Even locals in the original homeland rarely drink the broth of authentic Mala Tang. The real Mala Tang is meant for dipping meat and mushrooms into the spicy liquid like shabu-shabu. The Korean version simply mellowed the broth to suit our soup-loving culture. In other words, authentic Mala Tang broth was never meant to be drunk. It’s just a sauce to coat the ingredients with fiery flavor. Anyway, since Raylin is from the East, she’ll instinctively avoid drinking the broth without me saying anything.
“Lamb Rat? Can you pass me the seasoning paste?”
“Here you go…!”
“Thanks.”
Just as the ground fire herb begins bubbling like magma from the underworld in the chili oil, I add the seasoning paste I prepared earlier. It’s a mixture of soy sauce, minced garlic, sugar, black pepper, and paprika powder. The paste will help balance the overwhelming heat of the fire herb. Pure spice alone doesn’t make a complete dish—seasoning is crucial. Even if it’s spicy, it has to be deliciously spicy to become addictive. Still, I’m worried the fire herb’s intensity might completely overpower the savory notes of the paste.
—Sizzle…!
I keep stirring with the ladle to prevent burning. Once the seasoning paste goes in, the color finally starts looking edible. It’s still deep red, though—like molten lava boiling. At this point, I need to add stock to properly develop the broth.
“Lamb Rat? We still have leftover stock from today, right?”
“Wait a sec…!”
The lamb rat now anticipates my requests without being told. It scurries over with a kettle of chicken stock.
—Clatter! Glug glug glug…!
I pour the milky-white stock in while adjusting the heat, like adding rice-washing water.
“Now it finally looks like something people could eat.”
“Really…! But I still can’t eat it!”
With the stock added, the color lightens considerably. It’s still a rich red, but now it resembles the broth of spicy jjambbong. Just the right shade to make it look appetizing. Once it comes to a rolling boil again, I can add the ingredients and finish.
“Sniff…! Achoo—!”
By the time I finish and come back to my senses, tears and snot are streaming down my face. My sense of smell and taste are slowly returning. I hadn’t even noticed them flowing earlier.
‘I really want to eat this with glass noodles and Chinese vermicelli…’
Even I feel a wave of nostalgia like Raylin. Though it’s a foreign dish, the localized Korean-style Mala Tang broth suddenly feels missed. Still, I have to hold back. Tasting it might melt my tongue. Saliva pools at the sight of that crimson broth, but I force myself to resist. It’s obvious I couldn’t handle it. I’ll just check the star rating and description later to get an idea of the flavor. No need to taste it myself. If I do, my insides will probably dissolve.
—Bubble bubble bubble…!
Distracted by the intense scarlet color, the broth suddenly comes to a vigorous boil. Finally, it’s time for the grand finale.
—Swoosh, splash…!
I gently add the prepped ingredients into the bubbling broth: various sausages, ham, ground meat, simmered beans, cabbage, rotini pasta instead of rice cakes, assorted vegetables suitable for shabu-shabu, and even fire herb leaves.
—Thud!
After one final boil, I turn off the heat. The dish will be complete once the vegetables wilt in the residual heat.
—Ding!
Fire-Attribute Mala Tang — ★★★☆
A dish based on fire herbs from the eastern continent. Anyone without Fire resistance may lose their sense of taste upon tasting it. Yet for those who can appreciate this flavor, it is the ultimate delicacy!
The use of the eastern continent’s specialty “fire herb” has raised the grade by one star.
First time achieving three or more stars!
“Gourmet Feeding” proficiency has greatly increased!
Whoa, I finally broke past three stars. Good thing I didn’t taste it myself. I almost became taste-blind. Still, why do dragons crave such intensely stimulating food? Mint chocolate was the same.
“Hohwawa…? Th-This smell is definitely—?!”
Oh no, Raylin isn’t holding back either. The moment I finish the Mala Tang, her excited voice echoes from afar right on cue.
“Young lady? Have you arrived?”
I’m already looking forward to it. I wonder how satisfied today’s final guest will be.