Charcoal-Grilled Bullfighting Beef Omakase
Charcoal-Grilled Bullfighting Beef Omakase
Henry, the young heir of House Britten, had never actually eaten tuu, but he'd met plenty of people who liked to describe it.
-Among nobles and knights, tuu is famed as a delicacy, but I take a different view. What can you even harvest from a beast of that bulk? The strip along the back is the only viable cut, and that's it.
-I agree. Even that single edible portion, the tenderloin, is so tough it's nearly impossible to chew. Without a truly skilled cook, grilling it is out of the question.
-Still, does a man who conquers that toughness not deserve to be called a knight? That is the very meaning of the delicacy.
-I'd rather just grill a tender milk cow.
Among the aristocracy, tuu commanded a high price as an ingredient, but opinions on it were sharply divided.
Yet everyone agreed on one point.
Tuu meat was prohibitively tough to cook.
They said you had to boil it or stew it to even begin to taste the flavor of its flesh.
And that, they said, was why tuu was called a knight's food.
Because you could only eat it after you'd fought the beast and won.
Chewing its stubborn flesh was supposed to recall the struggle — and in that struggle, you found enlightenment.
There was even one lunatic who insisted that was the whole appeal of tuu.
Henry couldn't comprehend it, but he couldn't suppress his curiosity either.
He was, after all, a boy who aspired to be both a worthy lord and a knight himself.
He dreamed of one day becoming the greatest knight — a Lancelot in his own right, guardian of this very territory.
That was why he'd volunteered to help at the restaurant alongside the knights in the first place.
And on the way here, every knight except Lancelot had talked of nothing but tuu, honing his curiosity into something far sharper.
"I'm looking forward to seeing just how tough it is!"
"They say the flavor runs deep. Aren't you all curious? I mean to try at least one piece, whatever it takes."
"Will Sir Lucas offer us any?"
"If he says no, I'll pay. A knight's food — I'm not missing it here."
He was nervous about how tough it would be. A little uneasy, too.
Then he actually watched Lucas eat it raw, and the internal alarm flared into silent horror.
He's eating raw meat?
Why?
What on earth possessed him?
It made less sense by the second.
And yet Lucas said it was delicious.
At first, Henry thought the knights were in on a joke at his expense.
But their reactions mirrored his own exactly.
That look that said: what the hell is that.
Heimer and Lancelot, on the other hand, were watching Lucas with bright-eyed admiration.
If they weren't pranking their young lord, then this had to be real.
When everyone else declined, Henry stepped forward.
He was afraid, but setting an example for the people of the territory was a lord's duty.
The moment he dipped the raw meat in sauce and put it in his mouth.
This is tender?
Chewy and tender at once.
Two words that should never belong in the same sentence were dancing together on his tongue.
The springy texture kick-started his teeth and tongue, and as he bit into the lean flesh, the flavor spread.
The clean taste of the tuu and the richness of its fat wrapped around his tongue.
Not a trace of the gamey stench he'd dreaded.
A glossy, fresh fragrance lingered in his mouth, and then the sauce arrived, delivering the boldness the meat itself held in reserve.
This is amazing.
Wow.
Insane.
"It's melting in my mouth."
Deep.
The depth of flavor was on another level entirely.
The sauce's sharp saltiness didn't mask the raw ingredient's profound taste — it only sharpened it for Henry's palate. Two chews in, the sauce began to amplify the meat's savor rather than compete with it.
Every bite tasted different from the first moment it had entered his mouth.
His taste buds, clenched tight with the fear of toughness, now unfurled and let the full flavor of the tuu roll over them without restraint.
His eyes went wide, pupils dilating.
Henry's nostrils flared, and as he chewed, his mouth flooded with saliva.
The tender, softened meat slid down his throat like water.
The moment of tasting tuu's depths was over far too fast.
Disappointed, Henry licked his lips and looked straight at Lucas.
Lucas was smiling and picking up another piece of the raw beef he called mungtigi.
"Good beef, right? Grilling is usually when meat shines brightest, but freshly slaughtered beef carries its own kind of magic. That clean taste, the way the flesh pops between your teeth, the richness of the fat — what do you think?"
"It's exceptional. Genuinely delicious."
Henry picked up a second piece.
Pure personal greed — he wanted to eat as much as he could before the knights around him figured out what they were missing.
"Sir Lucas, how did you do this? I was told this meat was impossibly tough. Actually, isn't it meat you can't even eat raw in the first place?"
"That's the chef's secret."
"Gods above, this is astonishing. How can it melt this softly..."
Henry couldn't take his eyes off Lucas.
How had he done it?
How had he turned meat famous for its toughness into something as yielding as cotton?
There was a reason Liana, Heimer, and practically every servant in the lord's castle sang the praises of this restaurant in one voice.
His skill with ingredients operated on a different plane from everyone else's.
"Young lord, did you say tender?"
"Tuu meat can't be tender. Everyone always says it's impossibly tough."
"Doesn't it reek of blood?"
"So... is it actually good?"
"Are you calling me a liar? Fine, don't eat it. Sir Lucas and I will finish it ourselves."
Frankly, that was even better.
This way there'd be more for us.
Maybe it was better if they stayed clueless.
That hope collapsed the instant Lancelot — without an ounce of hesitation — lifted his chopsticks and reached for the mungtigi.
Ah.
The man had been waiting for this. The moment the young lord took a second piece, Lancelot's chopsticks were in the sauce.
"I tried it once, long ago. Tough, but satisfying in its own way. I wonder if it'll taste the same as it did then. I was still young, and now... Hm?"
Lancelot, who hadn't stopped talking, shut his mouth the instant the raw meat hit his tongue.
"Sir Lucas, what in the...?"
Lancelot's exclamation was the first. Then, all around them, knights who'd tasted the meat erupted.
"Whoa!"
"What is this?"
"Has tuu always been this tender?"
"The ones who called it tough — what the hell is wrong with their teeth?"
"Melts right in your mouth."
Henry hurriedly speared another piece of tuu with his fork.
He could not let these voracious knights steal every last bite of the good meat.
It might cost him a sliver of noble dignity, but his father wasn't here, so it was fine.
Even at this very moment, the meat was vanishing.
"Mmm! Delicious!"
Beef is king.
Lucas watched them and grinned.
"But do you really think that'll fill your stomachs?"
Every knight's gaze snapped toward Lucas.
And there, in his hands, was —
"Oh."
— a charcoal-grill tuu omakase set marbled so gloriously it looked unreal.
***
When we reached the brazier, the charcoal I'd asked Lancelot to light earlier had burned down perfectly, its surface gone ashen white.
White charcoal flickering with red heat.
While I'd been breaking down the meat, the soldiers and knights had handled the straightforward work.
Picking lettuce and herbs from the back garden, setting up tables and chairs out front, pulling side dishes from the refrigerator.
And, finally, loading the braziers with charcoal.
Obviously, we couldn't put a charcoal fire on every table.
The tables themselves were makeshift, and we didn't have nearly enough braziers to go around.
So here was my solution.
For the knights and the young lord eating in the back garden, I'd use the small personal brazier I'd set aside for my own solo grilling. For the rank-and-file soldiers filling the tables out front, I'd regrettably have to set up one large central brazier and grill the meat there.
Everything except the meat was already arranged on the individual tables, so I trusted them to manage on their own.
I couldn't personally grill meat for every table out there.
Under the soldiers' hopeful stares, I laid the well-burning charcoal onto the large brazier and set the grill grate on top. Lancelot spoke up.
"What's that? It looks different from the griddle plate I saw last time."
"Ah, this? It's called a wire grill. For charcoal cooking."
"Curious design. So the cook isn't preparing everything — each person cooks their own food. Is that the system?"
"Exactly. Good eye."
"Ahem. According to the chivalric code, to grasp the essence of a thing, one must..."
I dumped in the rest of the charcoal.
Once the grate was in place, I called out to the soldiers.
"Meat's here — everyone gather round and grill your own! If it runs out, there's more set up inside, so grab it and bring it out! Soju's limited to one bottle per person, so pace yourselves!"
"Yes, sir! Understood!"
The soldiers swarmed in for a taste of that famously expensive tuu.
They'd already seen with their own eyes — through the mungtigi and the yukhoe — that tuu was not, in fact, an exercise in chewing leather.
They'd sort themselves out just fine.
I headed to the back garden, where young Henry was feeding charcoal into his own brazier, and walked up to him.
He watched the coals catch, then spoke.
"So... is it all right if I call you Lucas?"
"Call me whatever's comfortable, young lord."
"You don't need to call me young lord. I'm Henry Britten. Henry is fine."
"All right. Henry."
The young lord — Henry — hesitated a moment, then forced the words out.
"What I'm curious about is this: how did you become so strong at such a young age? From what I've heard, you're on par with Commander Lancelot."
Me, strong?
That was news to me.
It probably came from winning that final chopstick duel against Lancelot, but in actual skill I was nowhere near him. Beating the tuu only worked because I knew the strategy.
How should I answer this?
Lancelot, Heimer, and the other knights were all listening.
"Well, I got stronger by eating good food."
"...I see. The path to strength is not something one shares lightly, after all."
"That's not it. I started cooking because I wanted to make delicious food for myself, and along the way I ended up feeding the rest of the order, too. All of that became a kind of training. You can think of it like that."
Henry looked at me like none of this made sense.
That's fine if you don't get it.
I've got a reliable dream-interpretation squad right here.
Beside him, Lancelot had been nodding along and now opened his mouth.
"He means that repetitive discipline and an unrelenting pursuit of his goal brought him to his current level. Eating well would mean fueling that training with proper nutrition... As expected of Lucas. That honest passion for effort and purpose — a truly exemplary attitude."
"I agree, Commander! As expected of Sir Lucas — just as he infused his food with chivalry, he also held a clear ideal for his own discipline."
I knew I could count on you two. Lancelot! Heimer!
The dream-interpretation duo, more reliable than the dream.
"That's... that's what it was?"
Henry, a beat late, had clearly been swayed by the two passionate knights.
I considered telling him the truth, but I didn't have the heart to betray those shining eyes.
Besides, it wasn't entirely wrong.
All that repetition really had built up my strength and stamina.
"That's right."
When the charcoal, heated to red and then cooled, had gone white, I set the wire grate over it.
I laid the tenderloin on the grate.
Lean and clean-tasting, it was the easiest place to start. If we ate the richer cuts first, no one would touch this one.
Tssssss!
The sound of blood and fat dripping onto the charcoal was beautiful.
I flipped the searing meat quickly and handed the finished piece to Henry.
"Try it. Tuu tenderloin."
"Ah — thank you, Lucas. You're serving me first..."
"You're the young lord. You should eat first."
"Th-thank you."
Everyone waited for Henry to spear the meat with his fork.
Those who'd already tasted blood — no, tasted meat — had evolved into a pack of beasts.
Henry closed his eyes as he ate the perfectly grilled tenderloin.
It was a different kind of flavor from the raw meat.
The richness of the fat came through stronger now.
The savor of the flesh wrapped around his tongue far more gently than the yukhoe had.
How to put it.
If the raw beef had felt like a quick sword slashing across his whole body, this tenderloin pressed down on him like a heavy greatsword.
Maybe it was the subtle heat rising from the lit charcoal, but he caught an aroma different from ordinary grilled meat.
Wood brought to the meat and burned — that was the note.
That distinctive charred flavor you get when you roast meat over a campfire.
Normally, he'd dismiss it as the taste of crude cooking and think nothing of it.
But the char he tasted on this meat now tickled his tongue in a strangely pleasant way.
And the moment the meat slid down his throat, his appreciation rushed in to fill his empty mouth.
Everything Henry had felt from the first bite to the swallow gathered into a single point and burst.
"Delicious."
And then the beasts wearing knights' armor raised their chopsticks.