Gourmet Moshul's Selection

Days had passed since I sent that letter to the Early Bird newspaper about Gourmet Moshul. I'd wiped the whole thing from my mind and gone back to my peaceful routine, waiting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for the next unpredictable guest. Watering the herb pots on the rooftop, tending the little vegetable patch I'd tilled beside the restaurant... Testing new menu ideas on my own for cooking practice, or occasionally heading into the city to prowl the markets for any intriguing ingredients. But even in the midst of all that, no customers showed up. The barriers to entry at Misikdang Slow were absurdly high, after all. Even putting myself in a customer's shoes, if I saw an ad for some insanely delicious restaurant perched on a mountaintop or in the middle of nowhere, I'd think twice about trekking out there.

From that angle, maybe I should ramp up the promotion a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bit. Even if word spread across the continent and it became known as the "dream restaurant" with explosive popularity, it might just stay a hot topic in idle chatter—people saying how badly they wanted to go, while only a tiny fraction actually made the trip.

I finished watering the rooftop herbs and headed back down to the first floor. Stepping outside, I spotted Aris crouched down.

"Hey, what're you doing?" I asked, still holding the watering can.

"......"

Aris didn't respond, staying perfectly still in her squat like she hadn't heard me.

"What're you doing?"

"Shh—it's an earthworm."

"What?"

"I've been watching the earthworm."

Her utterly absurd answer short-circuited my brain for a second. An earthworm? Come to think of it, we'd had a light rain a few days ago. But a ghost girl intently observing an earthworm...

"Bored, huh."

"Ah, there're two of them now."

Aris kept her eyes glued to the ground, sounding delighted.

"They look like they get along great."

"......"

"Wanna see?"

At her invitation, I slowly approached with the watering can. Then I tilted it over her head and sprinkled the leftover water inside.

"Kyaaack—! What the heck, boss?!"

"Earthworms like water, don't they?"

"I'm not an earthworm! Now I'm all wet......"

"You're always wet anyway."

"Ah, true."

In truth, splashing Aris with water didn't change her state much. It was a lazy afternoon. I set the watering can down and squatted beside her, shifting my gaze to the spot she was watching.

"Huh, you're right. Two earthworms."

"See? They're totally intertwined. They must really like each other."

"Don't you know you could eat earthworms?"

"Huh? Eeeek......"

"Well, less food and more like medicine, I guess."

Her horrified reaction was pretty amusing. When no customers came, my days always felt like this. The sun was starting to set. I stood to prep for dinner.

* * *

Back in my previous life as a chef, I'd worked everywhere from meat joints to fine-dining spots. Korean, Japanese, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Chinese, Western... I handled a wide range without discrimination, but my absolute favorite was Korean food.

This world's cuisine leaned heavily toward Western styles. The forms had evolved differently due to ingredients and culture, but if you broke down the flavor profiles they chased, they were closest to Western fare. Of course, there were intense, spice-heavy dishes like Topliya from the Northern Continent. Monster-based cooking had advanced quite a bit thanks to adventurers, so when I first tackled monster ingredients, I'd referenced a lot of local techniques.

But in the end, after going full circle, my top pick was still Korean food. Steamed meats and veggie-packed bibimbap, banchan sides seasoned every which way, deep broths in tangs and jjigae stews... And no Korean meal was complete without certain staples.

Paste ferments like gochujang, doenjang, and ganjang.

This world didn't have anything decent for proper Korean pastes. Made sense—totally different ingredients and culture meant no familiar sauces or seasonings. So I'd decided to make my own gochujang, doenjang, ganjang—the base pastes for Korean cooking.

Early on after opening the restaurant, I kept failing at fermentation. Weird tastes, or it'd spoil instead of fermenting properly. The peppers and beans here had subtly different varieties, flavors, traits. Applying my old knowledge straight-up didn't yield great results.

But with precise magic via Meta Control. After countless trials and tweaks...

I'd finally produced some pretty solid-quality pastes. The ganjang was less salty but richer in umami and aroma; gochujang had milder heat but was less thick and lower viscosity. Doenjang came closest to traditional Korean, and lately I'd been working on splitting it into aka-miso-style red, and shiro-miso white versions for Japanese uses.

Perfectly replicating modern condiments born of science and long research was tough, but I wanted to fill that gap with magic—recreate every essential seasoning.

Most dishes were doable now, but refining them further through ongoing experiments? That'd be my lifelong homework.

"Ah, boss~! Looks like the newspaper's here~!"

Lost in thoughts of condiments, Aris called out from the window.

Early Bird newspaper? Wait, no—it was too early for the next issue. Papers arrived on fixed weekly days. Today wasn't one.

A customer, then? Nah, Aris wouldn't call it a newspaper if so. She'd recognize the delivery guy's uniform and hat.

"Go grab it."

"Yeees~!"

Aris scampered out. She returned not with a paper, but a crisp white envelope sealed with wax.

"Not the newspaper."

"A letter? Was the delivery guy definitely the newspaper one?"

"Yeees, that's why I thought it was."

Hmm. So it was directly from Early Bird. What business would they have sending me mail? Maybe a threat over the Rosaria thing? They were the continent's top paper, but rumors swirled about them blackmailing celebs for cash. Unverified, sure...

But getting mail from them sparked those thoughts. I sat at the counter, broke the seal, and unfolded the thick, high-end stationery inside. Smooth, pleasant under the fingertips—nothing you'd find easily at market stalls. It was a long letter.

"Wha......"

"What is it? What's the letter saaaay?"

Totally unexpected. Me, selected for verification in their new column "Today's Delicacy"? And not randomly or in a batch—the notoriously picky Gourmet Moshul himself sifted through thousands and picked my place.

What were the odds... That half-assed intro I dashed off actually landed it.

"Boss~ Can I see? Boss~"

I handed the read letter to the whining Aris beside me. She scanned it quickly, eyes widening to saucer size.

"Whoa~!! We really got picked?!"

"Seems like it."

"Out of thousands?!"

"That's what it says."

"Wooow~!! We're in the newspaper?!"

Aris bounced in place.

"Not yet. If he doesn't like it, it's meaningless."

"Still, getting the chance is huge~!"

"Yeah, I guess......"

Weird feeling. Part of me didn't get it. Moshul seemed like quite the eccentric himself...

Other restaurants would've gone nuts over a life-changing break like this, but I stayed calm.

"Boss! You gotta prep big time, right?"

"Prep what."

"He's a famous gourmet~! Something special......"

"Same as always. A gourmet's still just a customer."

I folded the letter and tucked it into the counter drawer. No special prep needed. This place was always about making what the guest wanted. Gourmet, lady, random passerby—no difference.

Whatever Moshul ordered, I'd find out when he showed. And whatever it was, I'd give it my all.

I stood and headed to the kitchen. Time to prep dinner.

Who the hell was this Moshul guy anyway... Well, I'd see when he came.