Is It Hoe-Naengmyeon? Naengmyeon with Mulhoe Added? As Long as It Tastes Good, Who Cares?
Is It Hoe-Naengmyeon? Naengmyeon with Mulhoe Added? As Long as It Tastes Good, Who Cares?
"What shall I make today?"
Michelle's steps were light as ever on her way to the Knight Restaurant.
A princess of the Dragon Palace, daughter of the Sea King himself.
At this very moment, she was lying through her teeth to His Majesty, ruler of all the seas, and indulging in the forbidden escape of life on land.
-Never trust the surface-dwellers.
Her father had drilled that warning into her more times than she could count.
Never trust the land-walkers. Never even entertain the thought of going ashore.
She'd ignored him completely, snapping up an abandoned manor near Britten territory and turning it into a modest little residence of her own.
In her defense,
'I couldn't help myself.'
Lucas's cooking had utterly bewitched her tongue. Missing a single day of his food left her genuinely miserable.
Commuting back and forth between the undersea Dragon Palace and his restaurant was absurdly inefficient. However delicious the meal, by the time she got home she'd already be hungry again — and the palace's sorry excuses for chefs would promptly foul up her palate all over again.
So she'd taken the little villa entirely for herself.
Making it happen had been easy enough.
The proof was right here: wasn't she living perfectly comfortably?
The one real nuisance was the limit on how long she could stay out of seawater.
Spend just a week without it and all the strength drained clean out of her. She needed a place to resupply seawater on a regular basis.
The enormous tub was her solution.
The mansion's previous owner had used it as a bathhouse, and she'd filled the entire thing with seawater.
"Aah... this is bliss."
Here, at least, she could let her smooth, sleek tail show freely without a second thought.
A human servant maintained the property for her, but so far no one had caught on, so there was nothing to worry about.
"As long as I visit the Dragon Palace once a week, His Majesty never gives me any trouble."
Her independent life was, for now, proceeding in perfect, untroubled comfort.
And today, once again, Michelle dressed with care before heading to Lucas's establishment.
A one-piece gown in a blue that shimmered like seawater.
It suited her hair beautifully, woven from a fine fabric that wouldn't even dampen beneath the waves.
Her favorite dress.
She'd put real thought into choosing it for today's visit.
If someone asked why she went to such trouble just to visit a restaurant,
'Because it matters.'
This was the one hour of her day in which she recovered from all her stress.
That made it precious.
Also.
'It's a last courtesy.'
A final courtesy, she meant, toward the sea creatures who gave themselves up for her sake.
She wouldn't wear mourning clothes.
That would be an insult to the chef who prepared them for her.
Still, that didn't mean she could just throw on any old thing and go.
And so today, as always, she donned her most beloved dress and set out for the restaurant.
The day was punishingly hot.
"Ugh, I'm melting. Absolutely melting."
One of those rare days when the fire spirits took it upon themselves to cause trouble.
Heat utterly out of season hammered down on her body.
She snapped her fingers and water sprang up around her, cooling the air to something bearable.
"That's a little more survivable."
She knew it wouldn't last. A single mermaid's magic wasn't enough to hold off the mischief of a whole swarm of spirits.
"I want Lucas's food. Right now."
Ideally something icy and refreshing, like that mulhoe with squid from last time.
A dish so cold it made her whole body tingle.
By now, the guilt Michelle used to feel over devouring sea creatures had worn perilously thin.
You couldn't stop a woman who'd already crossed the line into mulhoe with something as flimsy as a worn-down conscience. At this point, that guilt functioned more like a seasoning — just another layer of flavor to whet her appetite.
"Maybe I'll ask him for mulhoe with ice floating in it. He'd probably do it."
She arrived at the restaurant on buoyant feet, and the restaurant's signature savory aroma welcomed her.
The scent of oil and spices grazed the bridge of her nose.
Something was simmering — she couldn't tell what — but a deeply satisfying, rich smell teased at her senses.
Michelle stepped into the still-empty restaurant.
"Good afternoon. I'm back again."
Just happy to be here.
The mere act of setting foot inside the place already had her spirits buoyant.
She looked around the dining room.
There was Lucas, eating noodles she'd never seen before alongside his staff.
Even just looking at this man made her mouth water now.
What's he going to cook for me?
How's he going to fill my stomach today?
Something cold would be perfect this time.
Might he somehow read my mind?
The thought stirred a flutter of hope in her chest.
"Ah! You're here. You're a bit early today."
"Hehe, yes. I just found myself desperately wanting your cooking, Lucas."
She'd decided she'd grown comfortable enough with him to call him by his name instead of "proprietor," and he hadn't objected.
'He must be getting more at ease with me too, right?'
She still hadn't abandoned her plan of dragging Lucas off to the Dragon Palace. She'd merely shelved it for the moment because he'd proven so stubborn.
If she kept drawing closer and closer to him, she figured, eventually an opportunity to bring him home with her would present itself.
'Then I could eat it every day.'
Everything Lucas cooked with his own hands.
Absolutely everything.
Not everyone was pleased with her presence, of course.
"Ugh, here she comes again."
The elf woman seated next to Lucas, eating the same dish.
A complete oddity among elves — one who actually liked meat.
Michelle caught the elf muttering, her mouth still stuffed with meat and noodles, but she ignored it. A princess of a sovereign nation had no business raising her voice at a pig of an elf like that.
"Lovely to see you."
Click-clack went her footsteps as she approached.
"What's this, though? You're all eating something I've never seen before."
It was clearly a noodle dish.
One with plenty of broth.
But it wasn't steaming at all — in fact, chips of ice bobbed right on top of the broth.
Ice, just visibly cold...
'What a fascinating dish.'
There were cold summer dishes in the Dragon Palace, certainly. But nearly all of them were desserts involving ice and seaweed. A fish course that had been boiled once and then chilled, yes, she'd had that — but food afloat in iced broth like this? She'd never seen anything of the sort.
Maybe she'd been staring a little too obviously.
"Ah, would you like to try some, Miss Michelle?"
"Oh? May I?"
Lucas offered her a seat at the table.
"Of course. Let me make you a bowl."
"I'd be absolutely delighted. But if it could have fish in it — would that be all right?"
"Entirely possible."
"Truly?"
"Absolutely. Just one moment, please."
"Ah, yes!"
Michelle watched Lucas's retreating back as he disappeared into the kitchen.
'No matter how many times I look at him, he's a constant revelation.'
New dishes never stopped coming from his hands. She loved that about him.
The sheer novelty his cooking brought her.
Even the same menu item tasted different each time. After eating something repeatedly, she'd often discover flavors she hadn't noticed the first time around.
She was still basking in the view of Lucas's back when —
"Sure wish I knew why she keeps showing up when the staff is trying to eat. It's a nuisance."
She heard the pig elf — Andrea — muttering again.
Michelle didn't dignify it with a response.
"Oh, so you do have some shame after all? Since you're not saying anything."
"It's not shame. I simply don't want to waste my time on you."
"So you're shameless too?"
"Lucas himself offered to make it for me. Why is his employee picking a fight about it?"
"He only offered because he's too nice. You have no manners, human!"
"True. He is a kind man. You can tell because he keeps an employee with this kind of attitude around. If it were me, I'd have fired you ages ago."
"Excuse me?"
What a bothersome elf.
An ill-tempered, obnoxious woman who worked at Lucas's restaurant.
Every bit of stubbornness and sour disposition the elven race was known for, distilled into one person.
"All right, that's enough, from both of you. Miss, please, let's leave it there."
The black-haired knight Ivan broke in to check them.
Heimer and Hamilton chimed in as well.
The two women glared at each other a moment longer, then turned pointedly away.
"Ill-bred elf."
"Rude human."
Michelle ached to snap back that she wasn't a human, she was a mermaid. But too many ears surrounded them. Her true identity was a secret — one that must never, ever be revealed.
'Only Lucas is allowed to know.'
***
"Done."
I'd been secretly startled when Michelle walked in.
Mostly because I hadn't been able to head out to sea today. No fresh-caught fish, no aquarium on hand to store live specimens — the list of fish dishes I could produce on short notice was fairly short.
Thanks to Michelle ordering fish so often, a handful of the lunch crowd had gradually started ordering it too, which meant a day's catch barely covered a single day's customers as it was.
I'd been worrying about what I'd do if she asked for something I'd run out of, when I noticed her eyeing the naengmyeon.
-If it could have fish in it — would that be all right?
Why wouldn't it be?
Hoe in naengmyeon — isn't that basically common sense?
Conveniently, I had exactly one leftover ingredient.
'Aged olive flounder hoe.'
It had been left over from yesterday's service. Until this morning, the fish had been clinging to life in a small basin of seawater. Bldi had helped me drain the blood and fillet it.
I'd sliced off a piece to taste and found it excellent. I'd even been thinking that once I finished my mul-naengmyeon, I'd mix some in and make a bootleg version of hoe-naengmyeon.
Granted, the classic version uses salted pollack, not raw flounder.
'But there's no time to prepare that properly, so we go with the next best thing.'
Hence: naengmyeon meets mulhoe.
I sliced the day-aged flounder into thin pieces, tossed them with a spicy bibim sauce, and layered it on top of the naengmyeon.
Naengmyeon-plus-mulhoe isn't quite the same texture as proper hoe-naengmyeon, but it's far from bad. The aged flounder itself has a wonderfully appealing chew.
'The depth of flavor and overall refinement might fall short of the real thing, but...'
This version had its own charm.
Flounder's got that bouncy texture and a deep, rich flavor that once earned it classification as a luxury fish. But its greatest strength?
'It marries gorgeously with sweet-tart, spicy chojang-style sauces.'
A perfect match with the bibim-naengmyeon sauce — vinegar, chili powder, sugar, and a blend of fruits.
'I think someone once said flounder hoe is basically just a delivery vehicle for chojang...'
Seems more like the chojang is the delivery vehicle for the flounder, honestly.
Over the cold noodles, I spooned the bibim sauce along with cucumber and the mixed hoe seasoning, then arranged thin slices of brisket and a halved coco egg neatly to the side.
I poured in just enough chilled broth to barely cover the bottom.
Naengmyeon with mulhoe, served in a cold bowl.
And with that, my quick-and-dirty hoe-naengmyeon was complete.
'Thanks to Bldi draining the blood, the savory depth of the fish came through even better.'
On top of that, it had gotten about four hours of aging. The flavor would have deepened nicely.
I carried the finished dish out to Michelle.
"Please, give it a try."
"Oh? Mine's different from everyone else's. The sauce looks different too, and there's almost no broth...."
"It's hoe-naengmyeon — naengmyeon with raw fish on top. A special menu item just for you, Michelle, since you're so fond of fish."
"A... a special dish, just for me?"
She swallowed, picked up her chopsticks.
"Well then, I'll gratefully accept."
"Also, if it's ever too salty or too spicy, you can add this broth separately."
I handed her a side bowl of chilled meat broth, ice cubes still floating in it.
"I just mix it all together?"
"The noodles are very chewy and hard to bite through, so I recommend cutting them once or twice with the scissors before mixing."
"Ah, I see. Thank you."
She snipped the noodles with the scissors, then stirred everything together — naengmyeon, mulhoe, the whole thing.
She gathered a bundle of the red-sauce-coated noodles together with a piece of fish and lifted it toward her small mouth.
Pink lips closed around the cold naengmyeon.
The chilled, sauce-slicked noodles went in, tangled together with the seasoned aged flounder, pickled radish, and cucumber.
A crisp, crunchy bite. The electric jolt of the spicy-tart sauce. Then the chewy stretch of the naengmyeon, chased by the mellow richness of the aged raw fish.
Michelle's eyes flew wide open and locked onto me.
"Wow... it's so incredibly cold. And delicious besides."
"It seems to be to your liking."
"Yes. Truly... the cold goes right to my head! And this fish...."
She'd lifted a slice of flounder with her chopsticks and simply lost for words.
"That's been cleaned and aged for about four hours. I personally prefer it this way — the savory notes are deeper and the flesh is more tender than fresh, unaged sashimi."
"Does aging really make it this tender?"
"It does. You lose a little of that just-cleaned firm springiness, but in return the flavor gains a lot of depth."
"Incredible. Truly...."
Still marveling, she slipped another mouthful of naengmyeon in.
"Mmmmm~~!"
She savored the spicy, sour, savory-and-cold harmony of the dish, then looked up at me.
"Lucas, how do you know so many kinds of cooking?"
"The benefit of having experienced a wide range of cuisines over a long time."
"It's astonishing. Does everyone on the continent know how to make food like this?"
"I don't think so, no."
The west was supposedly full of varied chefs, but I'd never heard of any single one of them commanding this sheer volume of recipes.
"The more I learn about you, Lucas, the more you seem like a talent worth acquiring."
"Thank you."
"Lucas."
"Yes?"
"Is there nothing you're curious about? About me?"
Wait, what?
"For instance — where I come from. Or what sort of things I might be able to offer you."
A soft smile curved at the corners of Michelle's eyes as she asked.
Was it just my imagination, or did that gaze carry a distinctly ravenous glint?
***
"Legends about merfolk, hmm...."
Gerard had spent the day lingering in Britten, tracking down the various rumors swirling through the region.
And yet.
"Nothing concrete is surfacing."
He hadn't found a whisper that so much as pricked his instincts.
"Could they really have been nothing more than idle gossip after all?"
His gaze drifted toward the Knight Restaurant.
"Hrrm, that place keeps catching my eye."
Something he couldn't quite name kept tugging at him.
Insisting that there was something inside that restaurant.
