Hot Summers Demand Bibim Noodles (1)
Ma-ma-maaang! The cicadas screamed from the trees, and cold sweat poured down my forehead like a waterfall.
It was August, the peak of a sweltering summer. Just breathing in drew hot air deep into my lungs, and the sunlight stabbed at my skin. Standing still felt like my whole body might melt away.
"I hate summer more than anything in the world!" Jeong Haewon slumped stickily onto her chair, staring blankly out the classroom window toward the Yeonhwa Elementary School grounds.
Unlike my previous life, the only ways to beat the heat here were wrapping ice in a cloth and pressing it to your neck or holding it in your hand to tough it out. The classroom ceiling fan creaked along, but instead of cooling the sweat, it just blew hot gusts that made our faces even stickier.
Air conditioning wasn't unheard of, of course. It was just reserved for places like the principal's office, language lab, or music room—anywhere deemed "official." Everywhere else? Fans only.
This won't do. Maybe I should ask Grandpa to install one in our classroom at least?
"Ugh, I hate Grandpa." Jeong Haewon puffed out her pudding cheeks in a pout full of complaint.
She'd actually begged Jeong Munju, chairman of the Hyundai Group, for an AC unit, but his response had been a stern rebuke: [Can't you endure even this much heat?]
Surprisingly, the Hyundai family mansion in Seongbukdong didn't run AC even in this brutal summer. When I asked why, the answer was always the same.
"Grandpa says the heat toughens people up. As if we turn into steel plates just by stewing in it."
Even the fan they'd bothered with blew not cool air, but scorching blasts like heat rising off a sizzling griddle.
Man, what kind of chaebol family is this stingy? This era was full of baffling old-man logic I couldn't wrap my head around. In my previous life, this would've made the 9 o'clock news headlines without batting an eye.
Aaah, who knew I'd miss my old life so much today? If I had a time machine skill, I'd zip back, bask in cool AC, and tear into some fried chicken.
Ding-dong-dang! Fourth period ended, and it was lunchtime.
For some odd reason, our school had switched from cafeteria lunches to mandatory packed bentos starting this year. It wasn't a money or facility issue—just a peculiar rule here.
I later learned that after a mass food poisoning outbreak at the neighborhood public school next door, Yeonhwa Elementary halted group meals in the name of safety and hygiene, forcing every student to bring their own lunches.
The kids here were the golden heirs of the nation's elite anyway, so a bento was no big deal.
I pulled my three-tier bento—packed by the nanny—from my bag. But...
"Ugh, I have no appetite."
"Haewon unnie, you'll collapse like that. You need to eat even harder in this heat."
"I want to, but the food just tastes blah~"
Apparently, she'd skipped breakfast for the same reason.
Hmm, this is where bibim noodles would shine...
Thinking back, to match the summer vibe, Paldong would launch a hit product in 1984: Paldong Bibim Noodles.
Bibim noodles were a whole different concept from regular ramen. A summer-exclusive food. While most ramen relied on broth, bibim noodles—like Hansung Jjapaghetti—went dry and sauceless.
Typical ramen got boiled in hot water to soften the noodles and dissolve the powder. Bibim noodles? Briefly scalded in hot water to loosen them up, then shocked with cold water for that perfect chewy bounce. A totally different flavor profile.
Paldong's bibim noodles launch next summer. But as a ramen researcher in my past life, I can't let them claim that one.
Especially not when it comes to summer specialties—no way I'd skip beating Paldong at their own game.
"Haewon unnie."
"Huh?"
"Want me to make you a dish that'll whet your appetite?"
"A dish that whets your appetite?"
"Yep! I just thought of the perfect one."
"Really? Something tasty even in this killer heat?"
"Of course. You'd love it, unnie. Hehe~"
I'm known for not making empty promises. So maybe that's why I heard Jeong Haewon gulp hard. No coincidence there.
"What is it?"
*
After classes, we headed to the neighborhood mart for supplies.
Noodles from Hwanggeum Noodle Factory.
The ingredients were simple: gochujang, sugar, vinegar, soy sauce, garlic, onion, pear concentrate.
With those, I'd whip up a tangy-sweet-spicy sauce to revive Jeong Haewon's lost appetite.
"You really think this'll bring back my appetite?"
I chuckled shortly at her question. "Yep. You might devour it like a possessed beggar."
"B-beggar...?"
Bibim-style dishes existed in the 1980s too—as bibim guksu, basically. Thin wheat noodles from banquet fare, mixed with cukes and veggies in a sweet-spicy sauce.
Problem? Those noodles lacked chew, soaking up sauce and turning mushy fast, killing the texture.
"2,700 won."
"Here you go~"
I handed the cash to the mart owner, then hopped into the waiting car outside. Jeong Haewon slid in beside me.
"You can really make something tasty with this stuff?"
"Yep. More than enough."
"Hmmm..."
What was with that skeptical look? Well, this wasn't my past life. Folks here couldn't even dream of cold-chilled ramen tossed in sweet-spicy sauce. It was uncharted territory.
We drove to the Seongbukdong Hyundai mansion to cook. Sure enough, as Jeong Haewon said, the place was a steam bath.
Opening the massive front door unleashed a blast of heat right in my face. Hiiiiiik! Seriously, isn't this overkill? No wonder appetites vanish.
"You're back?"
An astonishing sight unfolded. In this inferno, Jeong Munju lounged in the living room reading the paper—without a drop of sweat. Dressed in full long-sleeved hanbok, no less.
Meanwhile, the bustling servants had sweat streaming down their foreheads.
If even the chairman endured, the staff could hardly complain.
Grandpa once told me Hyundai had the strictest reputation among chaebols. While second-gen heirs elsewhere squandered fortunes on debauchery, Jeong Munju forbade luxury and complacency, drilling self-discipline into his kids no matter the circumstance.
I gave him a mental thumbs-up. That iron will is why Hyundai stayed top-five even through the IMF crisis.
"Mind if I use the kitchen?"
"Do as you like. Mind the sharp knives."
"Sure thing~"
Heh heh. Years of solo living in my past life meant I cooked to save cash while others ordered takeout. Time to show off.
I tied on a kid-sized apron, grinned, and the curious Hyundai servants gathered around.
"Whatcha making?"
"Me? Cool bibim noodles with ice cubes and spicy kick!"
"B-bi-bim noodles?"
Ramen came in all varieties, but bibim noodles were my specialty—my foolproof killer move from broke solo days.
I prepped a generous batch of Hwanggeum noodles, filled a huge pot with water, boiled it raging, and dumped them in.
Now for the sauce.
Easy peasy: gochujang for heat, sugar for sweet, soy for umami, garlic to cut grease, ground pear for fresh zing, a splash of vinegar to sharpen the appetite. Finish with sesame oil drops, and boom—the tangy-sweet aroma flooded the kitchen.
"Woooow!"
The scent filled the mansion in seconds.
"What is this?"
Drawn by the smell, Jeong Munju himself poked his head into the kitchen, sniffing my bibim noodles.
"Bibim noodles!"
"Bibim noodles? You mean noodles mixed with gochujang?"
"Yep! Nothing beats 'em for summer appetite loss."
Good thing I'd made extra. Eyes sparkled; no one could look away.
Perfect timing—there was dongchimi to pair with the spice. I loaded bowls and set them on the table.
Jeong Munju led the way, followed by Jeong Haewon and the servants. Fun fact: Hyundai folk ate together at one table, staff included.
"Let's see..."
"Whoa, hold up!"
I plopped a pre-boiled egg on his bowl.
"If it's too spicy, chase with this."
"Heh~ More thoughtful than you look."
He eyed the egg with interest.
"Pairing eggs with spicy food like this? Never seen that."
"Yep. Softens the heat, makes it way easier to eat."
He nodded, picked up noodles with chopsticks.
"Then... let's taste."
Slurp—!
Jeong Munju quietly slurped. Then he mashed the egg into the sauce.
"...Mm!"
A brief silence fell.
Since reincarnating as Hansung's only daughter, had I ever been this nervous? I didn't go to my own grandpa's because he'd rave about anything I made.
This bibim noodle recipe needed refining for market anyway. Cold, hard judgment required!
I held my breath, waiting.
Then—
"Heup!"
Slurp! Slurrrrp!
His hand didn't stop. Jeong Haewon, as expected, was totally hooked, chopsticks flying wordlessly.
"Heh..."
The man revered alongside my grandpa as an industry titan smiled in satisfaction. He wiped sauce from his mouth and spoke—like the big-chairman he was, his critique was next-level.
"Good enough for shelves. Real product potential."
Nearby servants' eyes went wide. "Chairman praising outright? That's rare!"
"Hehe, for real?"
I asked, and he nodded firmly.
Whoa! Endorsement from Jeong Munju? Never dreamed it. Guess bibim noodles are the summer kings.
*
"Young miss, this is..."
"Good, right?"
"Definitely the best for summer."
My bibim noodles were a fresh twist, unlike anything else. Dr. Lee scarfed a bite, and his eyes lit up instantly.
One year from now, Paldong's bibim launch—the nation's first. No way I'd let them steal that title.
Sorry, but first is mine— with my upgraded recipe.
Product name...
Hehe, how about Hansung Bibim Noodles?