Cooking Practice
Fourth period.
Today was cooking practice.
When I opened the door to the home economics lab, the kids who'd gotten there early were already chattering away.
"Hey! I heard from the class next door they do it in pairs of two!"
"For real? Anyone wanna pair up with me!"
"You any good at cooking? Wanna do it together?"
The sound of people recruiting party members rose from every direction.
From the far corner came a familiar voice as well.
"Nari! Let's do it together!"
"Sure, works for me~"
Han Yeoreum was linking arms with Seo Nari, smiling bright as summer itself.
Ah. Should I hurry up and find a partner too?
Jinhyeok was in another class, and among the guys in ours there wasn't really anyone I was close with.
I figured I'd just grab whatever leftover guy was free and started scanning the room when—
Clap clap clap!
The friendly-looking home ec teacher strode in, clapping her hands.
"Alright, everyone quiet down! Today we'll be doing the practice in pairs."
The class murmured at her words.
"But we don't have much time. You still need to eat lunch, so instead of wasting it forming groups, just partner up with your desk mate."
"Awwww!!"
Joy and despair crashed together from every corner of the room.
"Today's menu is omelette rice and button mushroom soup. Head straight to your stations and put your aprons on!"
""Yes~""
At the teacher's word, the class scattered toward their places.
Déjà vu?
I turned my head on reflex, searching for Han Yeoreum.
Far across the room, she was clutching Seo Nari's sleeve with the expression of someone whose country had just fallen.
Whatever happened to the guts that full-swing-slammed a sticky note onto my forehead that morning? She was back to looking like a rain-soaked squirrel.
Well. What was I supposed to do about it?
Teacher said desk partners.
I hung an apron around my neck and checked the station number.
"Hey, Han Yeoreum. We're station three. Over here."
She flinched hard.
At my call she startled, then tearfully bid Seo Nari a tragic farewell.
Nari answered with a smiling eye-crinkle that clearly meant, Take care of our Yeoreum~
Thud. Thud.
Han Yeoreum trudged over to my side like a cow being led to the slaughterhouse, clutching a pink floral apron tightly to her chest.
"Uh······. Um······."
"Hm? What."
"Th-that, this morning······. Sorry······."
Oh.
Apologizing this fast already.
She really had loosened up a little since the sticky-note conversations.
I huffed a quiet laugh and lit the gas range.
"I was going to bill you for medical fees if there was a mark left on my forehead, but luckily there wasn't. I'll let it slide."
"Uuu······."
When I tossed out the joke, Han Yeoreum hung her head in embarrassment and fumbled the apron on.
"Alright. Shall we get started."
I eyed the onion and carrot sitting on the cutting board.
Today's menu: omelette rice and mushroom soup.
First order of business was chopping the vegetables for the fried rice that went inside.
I rolled up my sleeves and glanced at her.
"Hey, Han Yeoreum."
"Y-yeah?"
"You any good at cooking? Ever done it at home?"
At the question her eyes rolled every which way, dodging mine. Then she fiddled with the hem of her pink apron and answered in a voice that nearly crawled into the floor.
"I-I'm not good at it······."
"Got it."
I nodded.
If we were both beginners, better for me—at least used to putting some force into things—to handle the dangerous knife work.
"No choice, then. I'll do the chopping. Can you help wash the ingredients?"
"Ah······. Y-yeah."
I planted myself in front of the board and plucked up the kitchen knife.
I'd sawed lumber before, sure, but a kitchen knife? Not so much.
Well. Cutting was cutting, right?
Chop. Chop.
I got to work.
Something about curling your fingers like a cat's paw when you cut—I'd heard that somewhere. No idea how, so I just hacked them big so I wouldn't take a finger off.
Beside me, Han Yeoreum, who had been rinsing button mushrooms, froze mid-motion.
The moment she saw the size of the onion pieces I'd produced, her pupils went into full earthquake mode.
This wasn't dicing. This was the size of the whole onion wedges they throw on the grill at a Korean BBQ joint.
Hmm. About right?
Undaunted, I switched targets to the carrot.
Chop. Chop.
The carrot shattered into completely arbitrary shapes—triangles, squares, stars—and went flying every direction. One of them rolled and plopped right at Han Yeoreum's feet.
"Uh······. Um······."
Her gaze flicked back and forth between the knife in my hand and the crime scene on the cutting board.
Even I had to admit it was a little off.
Awkward now, I scratched the back of my head.
"Sorry. I'm not good at it either. But if you cut them roughly big, doesn't it give a nice chewy bite?"
I just said whatever came to mind out of pure embarrassment.
"That's······."
"Hm?"
Han Yeoreum's lips trembled.
"That's······. Not how you do it······!"
Slap!
Yeoreum yanked the kitchen knife straight out of my hand.
"Huh?"
"If you cut them that big, the vegetables won't even cook through when you fry the rice······. And it ruins the texture······."
Her eyes had completely changed.
She took a light grip on the knife she'd stolen from me, then claimed the remaining half-onion on the board.
And then—
Tadadadadadadak!
"Whoa."
The blade danced across the wood.
Onion finished in a blink, Yeoreum gathered every last one of my scattered cube-carrot disasters and started re-cutting them.
Tadadak! Tak tak!
"Han Yeoreum. You said earlier you weren't good at cooking. You're incredible at it."
"My parents both work······. So I've been cooking at home a lot since I was little······."
She flushed with embarrassment, but the hands working the knife never wavered by so much as a millimeter.
"Then why'd you say you weren't good earlier?"
"Th-that's······. Only Mom and Dad ever eat what I make······. It's my first time cooking for someone else, so I just······. lacked confidence······."
It wasn't skill she was missing. It was confidence.
In no time the vegetables for the fried rice were ready.
Yeoreum poured oil into the pan, adjusted the flame, then whipped around to face me.
"Um······. Ryu Taekyeong."
Oh. She said my name.
"Y-yeah. What?"
I answered with an unexpected military snap.
"I-I'll fry the rice······. Can you beat the eggs? Three of them!"
"Roger. Three eggs."
"Ah, when you beat them put in one spoonful of milk······. And a pinch of salt!"
"One spoon milk, one pinch salt. Copy that."
In a kitchen, you follow the chef.
I obediently cracked eggs into a bowl and stirred with a spoon.
Sizzle!
Meanwhile Han Yeoreum was frying rice in the pan.
Her wok technique was no joke. That pink floral apron suddenly looked like a five-star hotel professional's chef coat.
"Eggs are ready. What's next, Chef?"
"Ch-Chef······! Don't tease me······."
Yeoreum stopped mid-toss and pouted.
It was so cute I couldn't help snorting a laugh.
"I'm not teasing. I mean it. It's cool."
"························."
At that, her face flushed like it might explode. I could see her knuckles go white on the pan handle.
"Th-then······ slice the mushrooms. I'll make the roux."
She ordered it in a rush, head bowed deep.
"How do you want the mushrooms? Am I getting kicked out if I make cubes again?"
"Yeah······. Thin slices······. Not too thick······."
"Okay. As thin as I can manage."
We stood side by side like that and focused on the cooking.
Between the sizzle of the pan and the tap of the board, conversation started flowing on its own.
"Should I turn the heat down a bit?"
"Yeah. Simmer it gently on low."
"Is this enough salt?"
"A little more······."
Just like when we'd traded sticky notes that morning—or maybe even more naturally than that—we were matching each other's movements.
The final highlight.
Yeoreum spread the egg mixture I'd beaten into a thin sheet in the pan, then spun it with chopsticks in quick pinching motions. In an instant a swirl-patterned omelette was complete. She laid it gently over the fried rice and poured the demiglace sauce she'd prepared in a smooth ribbon.
Wow.
"This looks store-bought. The kind of visual you'd pay money for outside."
"Th-that's not true······."
Yeoreum wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and smiled shyly.
"Alright, everyone—taste the dishes you've made!"
At the teacher's call we sat across from each other at the table.
I scooped a generous spoonful of omelette rice and put it in my mouth.
"This is really good."
Soft egg, the crisp bite of the vegetables, and the rich savory sauce—the harmony was insane.
"Is it good······?"
Yeoreum asked carefully, still holding her spoon in her mouth.
"Yeah. Seriously freaking delicious. You're really good at cooking."
At the praise she broke into a full, bright smile.
"I'm glad······. The mushrooms you sliced are perfect in the soup too······."
"All I did was slice and stir, though."
We sat across from each other and cleaned our plates of omelette rice and soup down to the last bit.
After the meal, while we were clearing the empty dishes, I looked straight at her.
"Hey, Han Yeoreum."
"Yeah?"
"From now on, Inssa Han Yeoreum is cancelled."
"Huh······?"
Her shoulders flinched again. It was written all over her face that she thought I was about to tease her over this morning.
I gave her a thumbs-up.
"Starting today, you're Master Chef Han Yeoreum. Sounds way cooler."
"························."
The tips of her ears went red all over again.
"D-don't tease me······!"
She protested in a tiny voice and hurried off toward the sink with the empty tray.
But from where I stood, I could see perfectly well that the corners of her mouth were twitching.
What do you know. We can talk normally.
I untied my apron and smiled, in a thoroughly good mood.