The Korean Taste: Rich Cheonggukjang Without Any Gamey Smell. Those Who've Tried It Know.

"What shall we start with?"

"First, we need to get the rice straw for fermentation."

"Rice straw?"

"Yeah. Rice straw."

"What is that?"

"Do you elves not farm at all?"

Andrea shook her head at my question.

"Elves do not farm. We simply pick and eat the fruit and grain the forest provides."

"That's it?"

"Yes. Elves consider that a blessing. The blessing to live and eat without labor."

So that's where the arrogance comes from.

"A lazy and ignorant way of life. No thought of hunting or gathering for yourself, just complacently eating whatever the forest hands you..."

Had she read my expression?

Andrea showed no hesitation in badmouthing her own race.

"Anyway, to get rice you need to grow and harvest a rice plant. The stalks left after you've taken all the grains off—that's rice straw."

"Is there a reason we have to go find it?"

"To ferment the soybeans, you absolutely need the Bacillus bacteria that live on rice straw."

"Ba... cillus?"

"Don't worry about it. Just know that we can't finish this without rice straw."

I headed for the shed next to the back garden.

Our restaurant had two storehouses.

One was the interior storehouse.

A room next to the kitchen, crammed full of seasonings, ingredients, and tools.

The other was the exterior storehouse.

This one in the back garden held tools for harvesting the vegetables we grew out back, plus refined rice, grains, and every other piece of miscellaneous junk imaginable.

Anything the kitchen didn't use ended up here, really.

Rice straw was no different.

We didn't keep much, but I stashed some away regularly.

You end up needing it often enough in a restaurant.

I retrieved the neatly stored rice straw from the exterior storehouse in the back garden.

Well-dried rice straw was non-negotiable for fermenting soybeans.

The meju blocks we needed to make Doenjang and Ganjang relied on this stuff too.

Running a restaurant that made its own ingredients from scratch meant you couldn't live without it.

And the Cheonggukjang I was about to serve to Camilla needed rice straw as well.

Cheonggukjang and Doenjang both share the same fundamental idea: ferment soybeans using rice straw.

The difference came down to the method of fermentation.

How long you fermented and how you processed the beans split the taste, the smell, the whole flavor profile, right down the middle.

To make Doenjang, you mash the beans, mix in salt, shape them into square meju blocks, tie them up in rice straw to dry for months, and then age those meju blocks even further. Only then do you finally get Doenjang.

Cheonggukjang, on the other hand, is just the beans in their unmashed form, tossed straight into a jangdok pot, covered with rice straw, and left to ferment for two or three days. Done.

A much faster, short-cut fermentation — that's Cheonggukjang.

Unlike Doenjang, since you don't crush the beans, the individual beans keep their shape. That's its trademark.

"Go bring those soaked beans over there."

I pointed at the beans I'd put in water, meant for making tofu tomorrow.

"So the boss gets to carry that light little thing while you make me haul the heavy stuff?"

"It's not even a lot. If you've got a problem, you open a restaurant."

"Pfft."

Andrea pouted but carried over the soaked beans.

I picked out only the beans in the best condition from the soaked batch and poured them into a small cauldron.

Nobody but Camilla and me would be eating this anyway, so one bowl's worth would suffice.

"Do we just have to boil them?"

Andrea, who had been helping me boil the beans, asked.

"Once they're boiled, you store them in a jangdok pot with the rice straw, and that's it."

"So those beans will actually turn into that... smelly stuff?"

"Exactly."

"Fascinating."

A rich, nutty aroma rose as the beans cooked.

Sniff sniff.

Andrea's nose twitched as she took in the scent.

"Right now, the weird smell isn't there at all."

Amazed, she watched the beans simmer away in the little pot.

White steam billowed thickly from the pot.

Facing the heat rising off the boiling beans, Andrea fetched a spoon, scooped up a few beans, and ate them.

"Mmm~, that's nutty. These are good."

"You already ate lunch and you're still eating? You'll get fat."

"Wh—who's getting fat? I'll have you know I manage myself just fine!"

Her face flushed red in an instant.

"Enough of that. Go wash the dish you brought from the storehouse."

"...Yes, sir."

I took out a single bean and pressed it lightly between my fingers.

It squashed effortlessly.

'That'll do.'

Andrea had laid a cotton cloth in the bottom of the freshly cleaned dish, and I ladled the just-boiled beans onto it.

Rustle!

The glossy, glossy beans filled the dish. Finally, I covered them with a thin layer of rice straw like a summer blanket.

After sealing the dish with a lid, I went looking for a thick blanket.

Three factors mattered most when making Cheonggukjang.

One: how well the beans were boiled.

Two: the presence of the Bacillus bacteria essential for fermentation.

Last: keeping the temperature steady.

The internal temperature had to hover around fifty degrees.

If it climbed higher or dropped lower than that, the beans wouldn't ferment. They'd rot.

To maintain that temperature, you had to wrap the dish in a blanket like this and check on it regularly. That part was mandatory.

Too hot, and they'd spoil. Too cold, and they wouldn't ferment.

In bad cases, unwanted bacteria would take hold and it'd start stinking or rotting altogether.

So temperature control was the most critical part.

In my past life, I'd used an electric heating mat to hold the beans' temperature.

There was no chance this world had electric heating mats.

'There is a technique that can stand in for one, though.'

After wrapping the dish in the blanket, I closed my eyes and concentrated.

Wuum.

The mana I released from my body began circulating, gently warming the blanket.

'Not too strong. Keep it circulating slowly.'

Like that time I reheated cooled soup, I made the mana circulate through the entire dish and beans.

The difference this time was I wasn't trying to spike the temperature fast. I had to keep the mana cycling to sustain a gentle, steady warmth over a long period.

I could feel my mana draining right out.

"Ugh..."

A groan slipped out on its own.

This is exactly why I hate this technique.

The Knight Range was great and all, but the mana cost was obscene.

Still, thanks to the effort, the blanket over the dish was lukewarm to the touch now.

Over the next three days, the mana soaked into this blanket and dish would keep the beans warm enough to ferment properly.

Now all I had to do was wait.

Three days from now, thick, sticky Cheonggukjang would be ready.

"I can't wait."

I could already taste the Cheonggukjang on my tongue.

I wanted to eat it right now.

Light brown Cheonggukjang bubbling away.

The image sprang to mind: finely chopped cabbage and kimchi, cubes of tofu, all simmering together and soaking up the flavor of the Cheonggukjang broth.

Drape it over a bowl of rice and just shove a steaming mouthful in.

"Aaaagh... I've lost my mind."

Right then, while I was tasting imaginary Cheonggukjang.

"H-how did you just do that?"

Andrea, who'd been watching quietly from the side, asked, her mouth wide open.

"Hm?"

"That! The mana, bzzzzt, thing you did."

Her eyes sparkled.

She'd probably seen me use the Knight Range technique just now and was impressed.

"For released mana to not dissipate and just keep holding its form... I've never even heard of such a thing!"

"This? I just adapted it by watching how mages fix their mana into mana stones and sustain it."

"If it were as easy as you make it sound, I wouldn't be this surprised."

"Really?"

The principle was simpler than she was making it out to be.

Plenty of knights had actually used the technique back when I taught it in the Imperial Princess's Knight Order.

Though they all quit because the mana drain was monstrous and the payoff was minimal.

'Hmm.'

But she was an elf.

Her innate mana sensitivity was on a level humans couldn't even hope to match.

Same went for the total mana she held inside her body.

'If I play this right...'

The thought hit me that I might just get an Elf Range to replace me.

"Want to learn?"

Andrea nodded so hard her head might've flown off.

"Yes!"

"Good. I'll show you later, so give it a try."

"Understood!"

In the end, though, the Cheonggukjang was a success and the Elf Range was a failure.

Maybe because the mana operation methods differed, or maybe an elf's mana was just too unlike a human's—I don't know.

"Uuugh... Why won't it work?"

Andrea never did manage to learn what we called the Knight Range technique to the end.

'Tch, what a shame.'

***

Three days later.

I tossed the Cheonggukjang I'd prepared ahead of time into a heated pot with some sesame oil and stir-fried it.

Chiiik!

Along with that satisfying sound, the deep, nutty scent of Cheonggukjang started rising.

"Smell's good, sound's good."

I added finely minced beef on top and stir-fried that together.

The reason you stir-fry it quickly before adding water was simple.

You knock out any off smells from the Cheonggukjang, draw out its flavor, and at the same time let the minced beef soak up that Cheonggukjang taste.

Do it this way, and the meat gets infused with the nutty flavor of Cheonggukjang — turning it into a genuine rice thief.

'Scoop up the minced meat and the Cheonggukjang beans together and the flavor gets this perfect, intricate ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠balance.'

Agh, my mouth's watering already.

Just as the red of the minced meat was fading to a faint hue, I poured in the water.

While the broth with the Cheonggukjang and beef came to a boil, I added a light sprinkle of salt and pepper.

Didn't need much.

I'd be adjusting the seasoning with Doenjang later anyway.

Once the broth had boiled up nicely, I chopped some properly fermented kimchi into small pieces and dropped them in.

Bubble bubble.

The distinct ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nutty smell of Cheonggukjang filled the air.

It's a smell that splits people, I'll give it that.

I don't much care for it myself when that pungent Cheonggukjang funk is too heavy.

So even when I boil Cheonggukjang, I keep the pot lid open as much as possible.

Boil it with the lid open, and relatively more of that funky Cheonggukjang smell escapes, leaving only the nutty flavor behind.

I threw in finely sliced green onion and onion, and even chopped chili pepper.

The bubbling of the broth drummed pleasantly against my ears.

I checked the seasoning before adding the tofu.

'Just a little more Doenjang and it's perfect.'

I added the Doenjang and swirled the ladle through the broth to dissolve it.

And the last addition — the best solid ingredient in Cheonggukjang: tofu.

I slid in the white cubes of tofu and let it all boil furiously one final time.

"Here it is."

I set the Cheonggukjang, still bubbling away in its earthenware pot, onto a dedicated wooden tray.

The tray already held an assortment of seasoned vegetables, Gochujang, and sesame oil — all for barley bibimbap.

And next to them, a wide bowl heaped with barley rice.

I hadn't placed the vegetables on top of the rice separately. That way, if she wanted, she didn't have to make bibimbap and could just treat them as side dishes.

Cheonggukjang, bibimbap vegetables, barley rice, and Dubu Kimchi besides.

If only this Cheonggukjang didn't have minced meat in it, this would be a diet you'd only see in a temple kitchen.

'The elves would've gone absolutely insane over this.'

If they were anything other than a freak case like Andrea, they'd probably want to eat precisely this and nothing else.

"Andrea, I'll handle the serving for this one."

"Understood!"

I carried the tray with the Cheonggukjang over and set it before Camilla.

"This is the Cheonggukjang I told you about before."

"So this is it? The smell is definitely... stronger."

Camilla's brow furrowed a little as she sniffed.

The Doenjang smell had been to her liking, but it seemed even she took a hit from Cheonggukjang's distinctive aroma.

Even so, curiosity still filled her face.

Maybe it was the thrill of a new food challenge.

"But where is Veronia?"

Not only Veronia, but her usual attendants were nowhere to be seen beside her.

She'd really come to the shop all alone.

"She went off to do her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠own thing for a bit. You've got to loosen up the body before you start winning big in the arena, don't you?"

"A wise decision."

Without meaning to, I imagined what kind of reaction Veronia would've had if she smelled this.

'No.'

Seriously, no. That must not happen.

"If that beastkin had gotten a whiff of this smell, she really would've gone completely bonkers."

Laughing as she said it, Camilla lifted her spoon.

"I just eat it straight, right?"

"Yes. The way you eat it is the same as the Chadol Doenjang-jjigae."

"Then..."

In one spoonful, she scooped up a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Cheonggukjang bean, some tofu, and some minced meat. Then she blew gently — hoo, hoo — on the steaming cube of tofu.

The white steam scattered with her breath.

After cooling the tofu for a moment, she took a bite of the Cheonggukjang.

"Mmm?"

Her eyes widened.

When her gaze met mine, the deep satisfaction in her eyes was unmistakable.

"This is actually really delicious?"

"The taste is nutty, unlike the smell, isn't it?"

"This is genuinely extraordinary."

Right.

I know that taste all too well.

The rich, spicy-pungent broth, with that funky edge stripped back as much as possible and a little bit of chili added for bite.

The nuttiness of the soft, yielding tofu.

The texture of the finely chopped kimchi.

And the savory burst of the minced meat when you chew it, caught in between.

Finally, the absolute pinnacle of nuttiness when you bite into a Cheonggukjang bean.

A taste I could picture far, far too clearly.

'Ah, now I want to eat it too.'