Seokbakji with Slowly Simmered Bone Broth (1)
Seokbakji with Slowly Simmered Bone Broth (1)
Watching everyone tear into the food with sparkling eyes lifted my own mood.
Brought back some memories, too.
Back in the knight order, I'd done this before — butchering freshly hunted Tuu.
After a hunt, I used to experiment, figuring out how to break the carcass down with the lowest possible loss rate. I'd debone it alongside knights who were curious about the meat, and then we'd grill it up and eat together.
One of the few good memories.
Isn't that just how military life works?
Utterly shit while you're in it, but the moment you discharge, it gets gift-wrapped as fond recollection.
That was exactly the situation here.
Still, thanks to it I mastered Tuu deboning and hunting, so it wasn't all bad.
"Delicious."
Whatever else, the meat was tender and good.
Grilled over charcoal, it had that proper fire-kissed flavor.
It nailed the feeling of cooking and eating outside.
The kind of taste you get when you rent a vacation house with friends.
"Maybe because she wasn't in heat — the flesh feels a little more tender."
The Tuu we hunted was definitely a cow.
No idea why a cow not in heat would wander all the way to a village, but well.
Does it matter if it's delicious?
As soon as the blood had drained, I picked up a piece of meat with my chopsticks.
The marbling of fat was so absurdly perfect it made the meat even more tender.
This is why you kill the bastard before it gets angry.
The fat-to-lean ratio was phenomenal.
The knights were devouring it without pause.
These were the same guys who, before they tasted it, swore they'd chew through the tough muscle as a form of training.
"Ohhh!"
"Delicious! It's delicious!"
"So tender. The harmony of fat and lean is... mmmph!!"
"I could die happy. My mouth has never been so spoiled."
Now they were purely savoring it.
There's an old saying, isn't there?
Pork is the limit of what someone will genuinely buy you out of goodwill. A man who gives away beef for free — he's got an angle.
It was that level of good.
Anyone handing out meat this delicious was definitely planning to extract something far worse from you.
"Ahem, Sir Lucas."
Lancelot, who'd been gauging the knights around him, lowered his voice and asked,
"Is there no Ssamjang today? Eating it with just salt and sesame oil feels... lacking."
"Ssamjang?"
"Yes. I vividly recall it being exceptionally tasty when dipped with that pork belly. Same with that Mungtigi earlier. I imagine it'd be excellent with this Tuu meat as well...."
He was fidgeting like a kid who needed to pee.
This man doesn't know how to eat beef.
"Beef is meant to be eaten for its natural flavor. Ssamjang is too aggressive a seasoning — it isn't included on the Tuu Omakase menu."
Maybe if it were a fatty or cheap cut.
But we were grilling chuck, tenderloin, ribeye, plus short loin, finger meat, skirt steak, and outside skirt — and he wanted Ssamjang.
That's sacrilege.
"He's right, Commander Lancelot. Dipping in excessive sauce is no different from relying on your equipment. To truly appreciate the flavor of Tuu, heavy sauces are forbidden! A knight's own skill is what matters, not his gear — surely the commander who always says so wouldn't stoop to leaning on sauce for flavor?"
Henry added weight to my words.
Having already tasted Ssamjang once, his endorsement carried extra credibility.
Then he took another bite of meat.
"I-I was merely asking. Leaning on sauce. I just... ahem."
Lancelot retreated with a face full of lingering regret, then plucked another piece of meat and ate it.
Seated before the meat sizzling on the grill, we ate Tuu with the knight order's men.
Sssss!
Whump!
Fat dripping from the grill hit the charcoal and sent flames leaping up.
"A brief fire show for your entertainment."
"Ohhh. They say Sir Lucas's cooking is a feast for the eyes as well — it's true!"
Henry, still distinctly boyish, watched the dancing flames with shining eyes.
Still at the age where playing with fire is fun.
I gave the grill a light tap.
Beef fat dripped down and a blaze far bigger than before shot up.
"Whoa!"
Henry jolted and stared at me.
"Si-Sir Lucas, you st-startled me!"
"But it was fun, wasn't it?"
"W-well, yes, but...."
"The visual element matters when you eat. Henry."
Back in 21st-century Korea, plenty of places did great business purely on the strength of that visual appeal.
The kind of spots that go viral on foodstagram and take off from word of mouth.
Thanks to the burst of flame, the edges of the meat were now beautifully singed golden-brown.
"Eat up. There's not much left."
The knights didn't stop their hands until every last scrap of meat was gone.
Man, their appetites really are something.
Are all knights like this?
***
Once the victory celebratory meat party wrapped up, the soldiers cleaned their spots with genuine thoroughness.
There was nothing left for me to touch.
-We'll handle the dishes!
-Sir, please rest!
-Boss, just supervise and make sure we don't mess up!
Lancelot and Henry helped tidy up to the very end, then led the soldiers back to the castle.
In Henry's hands were the Mungtigi and the leftover charcoal omakase.
A gesture of filial piety — a gift for the viscount, who had misunderstood.
The twenty soldiers who'd come along hadn't gotten to eat either, so he'd serve it to them himself, apparently.
-May I look forward to tomorrow's food as well? I'd like to visit the restaurant with my father when he arrives.
Today's experience had clearly left an impression on Henry; he announced he'd come again tomorrow.
Our restaurant doesn't block people who show up, and it grabs the ankles of those trying to leave.
By all means.
You do have to pay, though.
But wait.
"You four — why aren't you heading back to the castle?"
"We're here to help!"
"How could we leave after being treated to such a meal!"
"The commander excused us from evening training and told us to assist Sir Lucas here!"
"Give us any task at all!"
Heimer and three knights bellowed in unison.
So that's how it was.
-That was a fine meal. If you need anything, just say the word. These fellows will help you with everything.
Lancelot had said exactly that.
"Commander Lancelot?"
"The commander is charged with guarding the lord and his family, so he returned to the castle."
This isn't him trying to hog all the credit, is it?
The more time I spend with Lancelot, the more he reminds me of a certain sly supply sergeant who always managed to land the cushy details.
In the novel he was definitely a dashing knight.
"Hmph. Guarding the lord is important work, I suppose."
"So what should we do?"
At Heimer's question, I looked them over.
They hadn't accrued that many years, but they were still knights.
"You've all stood night duty, right?"
They nodded as if it were obvious.
"Yes. But why do you...?"
"Ah. I've got something that needs doing all night tonight."
I pointed at the tail and the bones, still heavy with blood water.
Those are getting boiled all night.
"I'll walk you through the method step by step, so don't worry."
I was about to pull an all-nighter alone. Feeding them really did pay off.
***
Inside a massive pot, water filled with beef bones was boiling furiously atop the Flare Range.
"Sir Lucas, what is this?"
Heimer asked, watching the blood-drained leg bones simmer.
"This? It's the Tuu beef-bone dish the viscount requested."
"Ahh, so this is that...."
Heimer swallowed audibly.
Tuu leg bones were renowned for boosting male stamina, which made them one of the most sought-after ingredients.
In fact, they were the single most expensive cut from a Tuu.
Isn't it a universal law that anything good for stamina gets expensive?
Same here.
And if it's a hard-to-get ingredient on top of that?
The price climbs until whatever they name, you pay.
I had no intention of gouging the viscount that badly, though.
I'd charge a fair amount.
Including today's feast — a reasonable sum.
"We'll simmer the blood-drained leg bones for a long, long time."
"How long must they simmer?"
"First, an initial boil of about thirty minutes to purge the off-odors and impurities."
"And after the thirty-minute boil?"
"We discard the water and start fresh. Once it's boiled, we transfer it to a large container and cool it — then boil, decant, and repeat the process about three times."
Heimer asked me,
"So by 'standing night duty,' you mean...."
"Each boil takes roughly three hours. I did consider doing it tomorrow, but I have to run the restaurant then."
"Ah."
Heimer soon nodded in understanding.
"A cooking method I've never seen before. Boiling leg bones. Normally you roast them to draw out the flavor and then use them in a sauce, don't you? Or you sear the bone marrow in butter and eat it directly."
"That's not a bad method either."
"What is the dish called?"
Heimer asked, nose twitching at the scent of the boiling bones.
"Sagol-guk."
The dishes for the lord: Sagol-guk, made by simmering bones for hours, and braised tail meat.
There's a dish my parents always made whenever they went on a couples' trip or left the house empty for a long stretch of work.
Sagol-guk.
A white, milky broth infused with the deep flavor of bones simmered until they yielded everything.
Marrow, lean meat, and fat drifting in the soup.
The kind of dish where, if you happen to find a little bone cap floating in your bowl, you end up buying a lottery ticket that day whether it's government housing or the jackpot.
A magic soup that multiplies endlessly no matter how many times you boil, and boil, and boil again.
That was what I'd make for the lord tomorrow.
The key to Sagol-guk is partly how well you extract the bones, but even more than that, it's how good the kimchi and seokbakji are.
Bright red seasoned kimchi and seokbakji contrasting against milky broth and white rice.
No one who knows the moment when the sour-spicy bite of fully fermented seokbakji mingles with the profound depth of the bone broth could ever deny it.
The true star of Sagol-guk is the seokbakji and kimchi.
I had some kimchi and seokbakji laid down from last year, so that would do fine.
It's properly fermented, and I can guarantee the flavor.
If there's chives at the farm in the morning, I'll bring some back and add seasoned chive salad — that should round it out.
Chives are good for stamina too, aren't they.
Ahem.
Anyway, Sagol-guk and braised tail — dishes that take a long time — should satisfy the viscount's request for restorative, stamina-boosting food nicely.
Though the cook will suffer for it.
Once I confirmed enough foul scum had risen, I dumped every drop of water in the pot.
Wooosh.
Then I washed the bones under running water, picking off every bit of fat clinging to them one by one.
After sufficiently cleaning the bones and stripping the fat, I filled the pot with fresh water again.
"Sir Heimer, one favor?"
"Anything at all."
"When this water hits a rolling boil, lower the Flare Range to medium heat and skim off the floating impurities and fat. Wake me when three hours have passed."
"Ah, that's all?"
"Yes. And don't eat the broth while it's boiling. Until it's fully extracted, it's basically just water."
"Understood!"
Stepping out of the kitchen, the sun was already sinking past the western hills.
"Haa... it's my day off, why does my body feel like this."
Seems busier than a working day.
Busy, busy, Knight Restaurant.
"They'll manage, right?"
All they have to do is keep an eye on it and wake me. They won't mess that up.
"Uuugh! Short break."
I stretched, then headed home — a five-minute walk from the restaurant.
Just a short rest and I'd be fine.
Just a short one.