At a Knight Restaurant, It's Grilled Pork Belly
At a Knight Restaurant, It's Grilled Pork Belly
What mattered most for bulgogi baekban?
Warm steamed rice?
Properly fermented kimchi?
Or was it all the little side dishes?
All of those mattered — they shaped the final taste — but the number one factor was obviously the bulgogi itself.
How delicious you made the bulgogi decided how good the baekban turned out.
And what decided how good the bulgogi was? The meat.
I studied the frozen cut on the cutting board.
Even frozen, it gleamed a vivid scarlet, so fresh you could tell at a glance.
This was the kind of meat that made you think it'd taste incredible just grilled plain, no seasoning at all.
Pog.
The animal that stood in for pork in this world.
Honestly, a superb ingredient.
Personally, I preferred it over pork back home — the flavor was milder and the texture far more tender. My absolute favorite meat.
Pog were quadrupeds, like pigs.
The name came from the sound they made — pog, pog.
I wanted to give the author grief over their imagination, but they probably never knew.
How could anyone know the world they wrote into a novel actually existed?
Thankfully, in this world, nobody hunted orcs down and ate them like pork.
Orcs possessed a certain intelligence, so consuming orc meat was illegal even in the Empire.
When my past-life memories first resurfaced, I can't even describe how shocked I was.
So many of this world's plants and animals resembled the ones from my old life.
Probably because the romance fantasy novel's author was Korean.
Lucky for me.
Being able to taste something that reminded me — however indirectly — of home did wonders for my mental health.
Anyway, I'd frozen all this Pog meat specifically to make bulgogi.
Bulgogi sliced to exactly the right thinness — the kind that practically vanished the moment you put it in your mouth and chewed.
Not too thick, not too thin. It needed that perfect middle ground.
I channeled mana into my Chinese-style cleaver.
With the blade suffused in blue mana, I sliced the Pog shoulder thin.
You think using mana just to slice meat is overkill?
You don't get it.
Giving it everything even when cutting meat — that was a skill I'd honed to survive as a cook in the knight order.
Slicing with mana wakes up the grain of the meat.
Little trick I picked up from my time as a cook-knight.
Shhk. Shhk.
The sound of frozen meat yielding to the blade tickled my ears.
Scarlet Pog slices, shaved to the thickness of pork belly for ssam, piled up in neat rows.
"Fascinating."
"Slicing meat is fascinating?"
"No. The fact that you use mana while you do it. That's what's fascinating."
"Ah, it's my own training method."
"Is that so?"
"Everyone else trains to get stronger. I couldn't afford to fall behind just because I was cooking."
Mana training while slicing meat. Strength training while ladling out 530 portions of soup. Stamina and focus training while frying 530 eggs. That was me.
Did I work hard to keep myself alive? You bet I did.
And that's exactly how I pulled off this picture-perfect retirement.
All hail the cook-knight training method.
I stacked the thin-sliced Pog shoulder onto a plate and set it aside.
While the meat thawed, I got the rest of the ingredients ready.
I pulled green onions from the fridge.
Green onions were still called green onions in this world.
Like I've said before — the author of the romance fantasy novel I read had zero naming sense.
Some things got renamed. Other things just kept the exact same names they had in my old life.
Completely arbitrary.
Not that I was complaining. Made it a hell of a lot easier to sort ingredients.
"Huh? Those are green onions. You're using those in cooking?"
"Correct. They're actually a core ingredient."
"Um... but aren't those used in alchemy?"
"They taste better than you'd think."
Liana's face went pale in real time.
And that's what stereotypes'll do to you.
What's the big deal about cooking with alchemy ingredients?
I washed the cutting board and cleaver clean and set to work on the green onions.
Chop-chop-chop-chop!
Chop-chop-chop-chop!
A deeply satisfying sound rang out, like a drumbeat.
The sharp, distinctive scent of raw scallions began to rise.
I pulled out garlic, crushed it with the flat of the cleaver, and minced it fine.
With the basics prepped, I brought out the soy sauce.
"What's that black liquid?"
Maybe because it was her first time watching someone cook.
Liana followed the process and asked about every single thing.
"It's called ganjang — a sauce made from fermented soybeans. It's got a wonderful salty-savory flavor. Care for a taste?"
"It's safe, right? The black color's a little unsettling..."
"Would I feed poison to the viscount's steward?"
I poured a little soy sauce into a small teaspoon and held it out.
Slurp.
Liana swept her hair aside and drank from the spoon.
"Ugh! Salty!"
"That's the flavor."
"It's basically salt, isn't it?"
"That's exactly what I use it for. Seasoning."
"The world of cooking is vast. Seasoning with some black liquid instead of salt..."
I also brought out the cooking wine I used regularly in the Empire.
Different from what I knew back in Korea, but it did the job when it came to adding aroma.
And sesame oil on top of that.
By the time the prep was done, the Pog shoulder had thawed and was starting to weep blood.
I gently squeezed the meat to draw out the blood.
I was making a single serving of bulbaek.
To the drained Pog meat I added the freshly chopped green onion, the minced garlic, and a generous spoonful each of soy sauce, cooking wine, and sesame oil.
But that on its own would be too bland, so I added sugar — same ratio as the soy sauce — to bring the flavors alive.
"What are you doing?"
"Mixing the seasoning into the meat. It gives it a bolder, more stimulating flavor."
Full of questions, this one.
I massaged the meat thoroughly, working the seasoning in so it'd soak deep.
And then, the final touch.
I pulled out the pear juice I'd prepared specifically for bulbaek.
A fruit with crisp, snowy-white flesh, incredibly sweet and delicious — the moment you bit in, the juice and the crunchy pulp mingled together in your mouth.
Yeah. A pear.
The pears in this world were shaped a little differently from the ones I knew.
They were sort of gourd-shaped, which threw me at first, but they still tasted great.
This would bring out the bulgogi's deep savory richness.
After finishing the seasoning with the pear juice, I turned to Liana.
"Are you good with spicy food?"
"Love it! I'm actually pretty famous in the viscount's household for handling spice well."
"Ah, you've got some spice pride, then."
"Spice... pride?"
"That's the term for people who take pride in eating spicy food well."
"Oh! Then yes, that's me. Spice pride!"
In that case, a little gochujang wouldn't hurt.
People in this world are generally terrible with spice, so I'm always a bit on edge about it.
I'd made a similar mistake once before.
No need to go dredging up bad memories.
Last step: I added a small amount of gochujang and chili powder to give it life.
The color of the marinated meat took on a faint red hue.
All that was left was to grill it.
Fwoosh!
I pressed the switch, and a small magic circle flared to life as flames leapt up.
"So this is the flare range all the head chefs are using these days."
I oiled the frying pan once it was sufficiently heated.
Laid the meat onto the hot oil.
Sssssssizzle!
That delicious sound — music to the ears — and the richly seasoned meat began to cook, sending up an intoxicating aroma.
Steam billowed up, carrying the scent of seasoning and grilling meat.
"Wow... that smells incredible."
"Told you, didn't I? The pleasures of the table aren't just for the tongue."
"I understand what you meant now."
Liana's nose twitched as she breathed in the smell of meat fat sizzling.
I shook the frying pan, making sure the heat hit every surface of the meat evenly.
Normally, seasoning burns at a much lower temperature than the meat itself.
So if you mess up your heat control, the seasoning scorches before the meat even cooks through.
Leave it as is and the seasoning would burn, and the flavor with it.
I poured about half a cup of water over the top.
There's a saying from a famous Korean chef who runs a YouTube channel.
If it looks like the seasoning's about to burn, add a little water.
Then it'll never burn, he said.
He was right.
Add water and everything's fine.
As the water cooks off, the seasoning concentrates and soaks deep into the meat, the meat itself finishes cooking through, and the seasoning spreads and clings beautifully.
Once the meat was mostly cooked, I cut onion and green onion into large chunks and tossed them into the sizzling pan.
Ssssssizzle!
That satisfying sound rang out once more.
By the time the feast for the ears and eyes was finished, the rice I'd started earlier had fully cooked too, wafting up soft plumes of steam.
"Smells amazing."
Looked fantastic.
"Texture's perfect too."
I scooped the just-steamed rice into a bowl and arranged the freshly finished bulgogi — still sizzling and popping in its own oil — onto a wide plate.
Breathing in that wonderful smell, I transferred the lettuce and assorted ssam greens I'd picked before opening into a woven wooden serving dish meant just for them.
I didn't bother with plating.
Not bothering was part of a knight restaurant bulbaek's charm, wasn't it?
Three side-dish bowls — kimchi, seasoned vegetables — and the tray was complete.
Gulp.
Liana, who'd been watching the kitchen with eyes full of curiosity, caught the scent and swallowed hard.
"My mouth is watering just watching."
"It's all food I've never seen before... but it smells incredible."
"You're familiar with white rice, at least?"
"Of course. It's been famous as a high-class food among the capital's nobles for the last three years..."
Liana's eyes shifted from the completed tray to me.
The glossy white rice, the vibrant green ssam vegetables, the red kimchi and seasoned greens, and finally — the crowning glory — the glistening bulgogi, undisputed star of the baekban.
"Is that really white rice?"
"It is. Here you go. Bulgogi baekban."
"This kind of food, for ten silver...?"
Liana looked between me and the dish with an expression that said this couldn't possibly be real. Then her gaze settled on the food in front of her.
"Chopsticks and a spoon are best, but if they're too tricky, a fork's fine too."
"No, I can use chopsticks. It's basic etiquette among nobles these days."
Liana wrestled with the chopsticks, fumbling a little.
Clearly still not comfortable with them. She struggled for a moment before finally lifting a piece of bulgogi and putting it in her mouth.
"Mmmmmm~."
"Good?"
Her eyes sparkled.
A bright smile spread across her face, utterly lost in the meat filling her mouth.
Yeah, I know that look.
Knowing the taste just makes it worse.
"Good, right?"
"This is insane."
"Try it with the rice."
She scooped up some white rice with her spoon, laid a piece of meat on top, and took another big bite.
"Mmmmmmm~~!!"
An ecstatic smile.
It was no exaggeration to say I cooked just to see smiles like that.
Satisfied.
At this point, the bulbaek had done its job.
"Try it with the ssam vegetables. And dip it in the ssamjang there on the side."
"Ssamjang... that's the name of the orange sauce?"
"Yeah. My house's signature."
I gave her a quick rundown on how to eat it.
"You hold it in your hand like this, pile everything in piece by piece, and eat."
Liana followed my lead. Rice, then meat, onto the ssam leaf. A dab of ssamjang on top.
And then another bite.
Her cheeks puffed up like a hamster's. Pretty damn cute, actually.
Chew chew.
Her face, which had looked like she doubted there could possibly be any more surprises left, flooded with certainty and delight in that instant.
I watched Liana savor the food, drinking in that astonishing transformation.
She looked like she might faint on the spot.
"Worth ten silver?"
Mouth crammed full of ssam, she shook her head.
"Not worth it?"
"Mmmmph!"
She shook her head again, emphatically.
Chew chew. After chewing for a long while, she finally swallowed, raised her index finger, and practically shouted.
"One gold! This is one-gold food!"
Ten times the current price of ten silver.
She was being awfully generous.
"It's genuinely delicious! I think I'm going to become a regular here! Wow... how did a chef like you end up in our territory..."
Now she was fully absorbed in the food.
As if she didn't want any more interruptions during this sacred ritual, she leaned her face closer to the bowl.
"Hoo! Ha! Spicy. Wow... it's got a kick. Haah."
Watching her eat with such single-minded intensity, sweat beading on her forehead, made my own stomach growl.
Grrrowl.
I dumped the half-bowl of leftover rice into the same pan I'd just used for the meat.
White rice landed right on top of the meat drippings, the leftover seasoning, and the bits of bulgogi I hadn't managed to plate.
Not the most polite thing, a head chef eating in front of a customer. But hell, I needed to eat too.
I hadn't had a single thing since morning.
And after cooking bulgogi — fried rice was the only move.
That red seasoning, soaked with meat fat and spice — that's the real rice thief.
I turned the heat back on.