Chapter 16
Chapter 16
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: Incident at Babsang
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Korean food is all about the jang taste."
This means that the deep, savory umami of the food comes from traditional jangs like soy sauce, doenjang, and gochujang.
Jang, made by fermenting beans, is the core seasoning of Korean cuisine, infused with years of care. In the past, it was even a measure of a household's culinary skill and refinement.
In other words, food made with the finest jang is the true essence of Korean cuisine.
Even among the highest-grade jangs in Korea, the Kim family's jang offered a special flavor that most Koreans had never experienced.
And Consul Choi Ik-hyun, who had long served at the U.S. Consulate in Korea, felt it too.
Rich.
Deep.
He truly felt the "deep flavor" he'd only heard described, experiencing it with his whole body at Ji-hoon's restaurant.
"Heh heh, that was the best meal."
He had come simply to deliver documents and stumbled upon unexpected fortune.
Choi Ik-hyun patted his satisfied belly and stood from his seat.
"The bill, please."
When Ik-hyun handed over his card, Ji-hoon waved his hand, trying to refuse.
But Ik-hyun was firm.
"No, no. I can't eat such excellent food for free. If you don't charge me, I won't be able to come back often."
With those words, Ji-hoon reluctantly took the card and processed the payment.
The amount was just $20.
In America, it was almost impossible to get a spread like that for $20.
"I'll bring all my staff soon. Thanks again for the great meal."
"No, no. Take care."
Ji-hoon personally walked him to the door and bowed deeply to see him off.
Lunchtime passed, and the shop quieted down.
Only then did Ji-hoon pull out the document envelope the consul had given him.
He tore it open and checked the contents.
The paper was filled with stiff legal terms.
Ji-hoon stared at the documents for a moment, then smirked and tossed them aside onto the table.
As if nothing had happened, he began preparing for the dinner rush.
After finishing the day's business, I dragged my tired body home.
The business was going smoothly.
I was making more money than I'd expected.
But a corner of my mind was always uneasy.
I pulled out a document from the desk drawer.
It was the complaint that Consul Choi Ik-hyun had delivered personally not long ago.
I looked down at the scrap of paper and smirked.
'Well... as long as I don't go back to Korea, it's fine.'
That wasn't the real problem.
It was my 'status'.
It had been a year since I started the business, but I still wasn't a permanent resident.
I was just an E-2 visa holder, allowed to stay only while operating the business.
I was far short of the time and conditions needed for permanent residency or citizenship.
I recalled the lawyer's words.
Scale up to meet EB-5 requirements.
At least two years of stable operation like this
to even qualify to apply for permanent residency.
'Sigh... waiting is tough.'
Receiving the service papers made me impatient.
I wanted to escape this unstable status as soon as possible, to be reborn as a true American.
But time didn't flow as fast as my heart desired.
I took a swig of beer.
'Isn't there another way...?'
Then, a casual remark the lawyer had made in jest flashed through my mind.
"The fastest and surest way? Obviously, marriage to a U.S. citizen."
I shook my head at the memory.
Insane.
I'd sworn never to repeat it.
So why did those words keep echoing in my ears?
The downtown Berkeley where Ji-hoon opened his shop was west of the UC Berkeley campus.
Beyond simple market analysis, 'safety' was a key factor in his choice.
This area offered a reasonable guarantee of safety.
Sure, homeless people with mental issues appeared occasionally, but it was safe enough during the day and evening for locals to walk freely, with shops and restaurants clustered together.
The north side of campus was safe too, but it was a quiet residential area with few shops.
The problem was the south side.
The south was known as relatively unsafe.
A dense area of cheap shops and homes where most petty crimes occurred.
Poor students without shopping money mixed with homeless and criminals from nearby dangerous Oakland areas.
Daytime was tolerable, but it was a place to avoid at night.
Ji-hoon's safety-conscious choice was right.
But as rumors spread that Babsang was cheap and delicious, occasional roughnecks or gang members from the south started showing up.
Fierce looks and tattoos covering their bodies.
At first, Ji-hoon and the staff were tense.
Surprisingly, they'd never caused a single issue inside.
They just ate quietly and cleanly, emptying their plates.
That day was the same.
Around 1 p.m., just after the lunch rush when the shop had emptied out a bit.
Ding-a-ling-
The door opened, and new customers entered.
One Black man with tattoos up to his neck.
Following him, another Black man and two who looked Hispanic.
Baggy hip-hop style clothes.
Clearly not ordinary folks.
As they entered, the previously lively restaurant fell silent.
They were a type unseen in this neighborhood before.
The man with neck tattoos asked me,
"Can we eat here?"
I replied with my usual friendly smile.
"Of course. Welcome. Let me show you to a table."
A wide spot by the window was open.
As I guided them and went to take their order, the man spoke again.
"First time here, so could you recommend something?"
I pointed to the menu.
"Any foods you can't eat? Like meat, fish, or spicy stuff?"
They glanced at each other and said nothing in particular.
Just in case, I recommended the safest: bulgogi and pork bulgogi.
Soy-based sweet sauce, foolproof for Korean food newbies.
I briefly explained the flavors and ingredients for each.
They accepted my recommendations.
"Sounds good. Two of those... and, uh, bibimbap too. Heard about it, looking forward to it."
"Got it. Please wait a moment."
I went to the kitchen and prepared a banchan tray for three.
As soon as setup was ready, I served immediately.
The table filled with colorful side dishes, and their eyes widened.
The typical reaction from first-timers.
"Hey, we didn't order this."
I delivered my well-worn line with a smile.
"It's on the house. All free."
Their tough faces broke into bright smiles.
About 10 minutes later, the main dishes arrived.
Sizzling hot single-serve iron plates.
Appetizing bulgogi and pork bulgogi on wooden bases placed on the table.
Sweet, salty aroma hit the nose.
Colorful veggies neatly atop rice, sunny-side-up egg in the center.
For non-vegans, I added gochujang and a drizzle of sesame oil.
I even demonstrated mixing with chopsticks.
Starting with banchan, they dug in.
I roamed the floor, watching all customers.
Fortunately, no unhappy tables.
If a brow furrowed even slightly, I'd approach immediately.
This attentiveness gave our shop its rep for great service.
About five minutes after those three started eating,
I glanced their way.
As expected,
They were struggling with chopsticks.
I grabbed three forks and headed over.
Without a word, I quietly handed them out.
At my gesture, the tough guys grinned at me.
"Thanks."
Gentler than they looked.
I smiled back and returned to my spot.
Food business sells taste and service.
Regulars are precious to the owner.
But steady new customers are key to growth.
I didn't foolishly neglect caught fish for easy feeding.
I gave my best to regulars too.
Ding-a-ling-
Then, a familiar face entered.
Michael, the UC Berkeley American football player.
My No. 1 regular, stamping in almost daily since opening.
"Hey, Hoon! Here again today!"
He thrust out a fist as soon as he entered.
I naturally bumped it with mine, smiling.
"Welcome, Michael. You know you're keeping this place alive, right?"
He laughed heartily at my joke.
"Hahaha! Eating here gives me weird extra power for practice."
He was an NCAA Division 1 prospect with a bright future.
I'd learned that naturally from his frequent visits.
"Got a big game soon. Need protein today. Practice later. Whole chicken, please."
Whole chicken was one of our popular items.
"Over there, empty table?"
I nodded.
Michael turned to find a seat, then froze at one table.
The tough-looking guys from earlier.
He turned to me with a mocking tone.
"Hoon. Since when does Babsang serve thugs like that? Lowers the class."
Instantly, all noise in the shop stopped.
All eyes turned to Michael.
Including the so-called thugs eating quietly.
Tension hung thick in the silent shop.