Freeze-Drying and MSG, Is That Possible in This Fantasy World?
Freeze-Drying and MSG, Is That Possible in This Fantasy World?
"You want me to turn liquid into powder...?"
Riman stared at the container of broth in his hands for a long time.
"I need you to separate the seasoning from the liquid and turn it into powder. But boiling it down is absolutely not an option."
"Impossible. How else would you extract the concentrate?"
Riman shut it down immediately.
"Impossible? I was told you're a top-tier alchemist."
"It's impossible regardless of my skill. Turning liquid to powder — there's no alchemy that makes that feasible."
His face was pure certainty.
Absolutely impossible, he meant.
"Everyone knows you need intense heat to evaporate moisture. Removing moisture without boiling is simply..."
I tossed him a light suggestion.
"What about freezing?"
"...Excuse me?"
"Don't boil it. Freeze it."
"F-freeze? Freezing something doesn't make it powder. Ice is still moisture. You can freeze and shatter it all you want — the moisture doesn't disappear."
Riman insisted it couldn't be done. Again and again.
"I understand you're a knight with limited magical knowledge, but even so, this proposal is simply ignorant. How could—"
"It's possible."
But I knew.
I knew cold-frozen matter could absolutely be turned to powder.
Freeze it, then drop the pressure — the frozen moisture sublimates and dries naturally.
Freeze-drying.
A method for flash-freezing sauces, all kinds of vegetables, fish, even meat, then sublimating every trace of moisture to preserve them.
Back in my original world, it was the go-to technique for drying and preserving heat-sensitive materials.
Originally developed to preserve biological materials like proteins long-term, it was later adapted to produce seasonings — ramyun soup base, chicken stock, and the like.
The powdered seasonings that emerged from it revolutionized cooking.
They made it possible to draw out flavor without complex cooking steps, paving the way for instant foods that let anyone produce decent results with minimal effort.
"Freeze it, then lower the internal pressure. That'll do it."
I'm a humanities guy, so I don't know the fine details.
But I did know the concept: freeze a substance, then drop the pressure below its vapor pressure, and the moisture evaporates straight out of the ice without it ever melting.
"Lower the internal pressure...?"
"Yes."
"N-no. Even if you lower the pressure, ice turning directly into gas is..."
He still wasn't getting it.
Bit of a letdown.
"Riman, why do you think water evaporates?"
"Well, heat increases the water's pressure, and as a result... Ah."
Something clicked. He fixed his eyes on me, the gears turning.
"Sir Lucas, you're a knight who knows nothing about alchemy! Don't try to dazzle me with half-baked notions you picked up somewhere!"
Hoo, boy.
Called it.
Fair enough. All I've got is surface-level knowledge. No reason he'd trust me.
But how about this?
I produced a small bottle of white powder.
The white powder that starts with M. MSG.
One of the Knight Restaurant's secret weapons — the seasoning I'd added to practically every dish since leaving the knight order and opening the place.
The bottle was nearly empty now, the remaining white crystals glittering under the ceiling's glow-lamps.
"What is this?"
"Something I made with my old master. We called it MSG."
"MSG...?"
"We extracted the savory component from molasses and powdered it."
"And you're trying to fool me into believing this was made via freeze-drying?"
I shook my head.
"This MSG wasn't freeze-dried. It's a seasoning my master and I produced through a different method."
Riman clenched his fists, thinking I was mocking him. The look he shot me was sharp enough to cut.
If Camilla hadn't asked him to be here, he'd have stormed out already.
"Are you claiming to be an alchemist now, Sir Lucas?"
"I'm no alchemist. I was just a disciple who assisted my master."
"Don't toy with me."
I'm not.
Back in the capital, I'd met an old alchemist by chance. Together, we'd created MSG.
He'd passed away just before the technique could be commercialized.
"Here are the blueprints I drew up with him."
I pulled out the old alchemist's schematics. The initials engraved on the cover — H.R. — made Riman's pupils blow wide.
"An H.R. mark with that flowing script... Wait, this is..."
He touched the blueprints lightly.
The cover rippled as his mana resonated with it.
"G-genuine... These are really Master Homer's schematics...?"
So the old man really was a big deal.
Making MSG had been pure luck.
A short leave granted through my position as a cook knight.
I'd met the old man after escaping the order's barracks for a while, and we'd bonded over a meal I cooked for him — which led to us creating MSG together.
White hair and beard, both a tangled mess. A wrinkled old man trembling from hunger. I couldn't just walk past him.
— Aaah! I haven't eaten food this good in ages! If you ever need help, just say the word!
That was Homer, who introduced himself as the finest alchemist alive.
The empire's greatest alchemist, now retired, he'd said. Claimed the number of mages who'd come running if he snapped his fingers could circle the imperial palace.
I only learned the truth after he'd passed.
That Homer really had been a legend.
— Heh, you're the only one who treats me like this, you know. Call any of my old disciples and they'd be groveling. Tsk, tsk.
— Got anything tastier?
I'd told him about MSG — the story of it from my world. A magic seasoning that drew out savory depth the moment you added it.
It piqued the old alchemist's curiosity. In exchange for more meals, he offered to create it for me.
And so the blueprints were completed. MSG.
— I've had a fascinating experience in my twilight years. How long has it been since designing alchemy felt this enjoyable... It's a shame this is my final spark. These blueprints are a token of my gratitude.
The schematics alone were beyond me. I was a complete layman in alchemy; no amount of staring at them would bridge the gap.
I understood the principle only in the shallowest sense.
Homer had laughed, saying that would be enough.
The right researcher would understand it all, he'd said.
A few months before I left the knight order, he'd left me the schematics and a massive supply of MSG — enough to last half a year or more — and told me:
— These are my alchemical blueprints. Don't show them to just anyone. Only show them to someone with talent in both magic and alchemy.
Then he'd passed away. That was his final will.
Hand the blueprints to someone gifted in both disciplines and have them complete the work.
Master Homer, I'm borrowing your reputation. You did sneak into our order's mess for free meals, after all.
He'd understand. It wasn't just one or two meals he'd mooched from the order.
Besides, it wasn't a lie. I'd received instruction from him — several times — while we'd worked on MSG together.
One-sided instruction, to be precise.
"You're truly his disciple?"
"Yes. I received some teaching before he passed."
Riman spoke up, his gaze still fixed on me.
"Life and alchemy are much the same."
"'You give your time and reap the result.' He used to say it like a catchphrase."
"So it's true..."
Even now, he had to test me.
Fine. I'll let it slide this once.
"To think he's passed on... Then these blueprints are Master Homer's final work."
Riman fell silent.
He seemed a touch more docile after seeing the genuine article. This is why connections matter.
"Freeze-drying... Sublimating moisture directly from ice."
Maybe being Homer's disciple gave my words more weight, because Riman kept muttering to himself for a long while.
"For ice to evaporate, the pressure has to be far lower than standard atmospheric. So you'd need a machine that can lower pressure inside a sealed environment. I want you, Riman, to build that machine."
His eyes went wider still.
"Seal it and drop the pressure... Not a bad approach."
He already looked to be sketching designs in his head.
Guess he really is a genius.
That peculiar scholarly passion all mages had was starting to kindle in his eyes.
"You look motivated."
"If I pull this off, I'll be rolling in coin, won't I? Plus I can add 'the genius who inherited Master Homer's research' to my record. Ha-ha-ha!"
Ah. Not scholarly passion. Greed.
Didn't matter.
Motivation was motivation, whatever the source.
With that, he traced formulas in the air.
Fwoom! F-woom! FWOOOOM!
Several magic circles flared to life in the air, and the broth in the small bowl flash-froze solid.
Simultaneously, wind magic began lowering the pressure around the bowl.
Last step: time acceleration.
The space around the bowl seemed to race forward at impossible speed. The frozen broth rapidly shed its moisture.
Both of us stared.
"Huh... It actually works?"
Riman was stunned that freeze-drying was real.
God damn, how many spells did he just cast at once?
I was stunned by Riman's absurd multi-casting.
Now I understood why Homer insisted on someone capable of both magic and alchemy.
Once he confirmed every drop of moisture had evaporated, Riman dismissed the spells and pressed his finger into the solidified broth.
Crrrrumble!
It crumbled apart.
"...I believe it worked."
I tasted a pinch of the powdered sauce.
The concentrated saltiness spread across my tongue, all moisture stripped away.
He'd actually done it.
I looked at Riman.
He was gasping for breath like he was about to keel over. He'd clearly burned far more energy than during that flashy dragon-conjuring fire show earlier.
Freeze-drying a mere two servings of broth was harder than that spectacle. Good to know.
"For commercial use, we'll need proper equipment and efficiency improvements."
But we'd seen the possibility. The possibility of ramyun soup base.
Fixed magic circles and mana-amplifying mediums would make it viable.
"It really works. Powder, without fire..."
His face said he was dying to ask how I'd known.
Telling him I was isekai'd or reincarnated wouldn't get me very far...
To steer the conversation elsewhere, I held out Homer's blueprints.
"Here. Take these."
"Why are you giving them to me...?"
"You've demonstrated freeze-drying is possible. Now you have to prove you can put the blueprints to good use."
"..."
I pointed at the schematics.
"If you succeed in building it, the blueprints are yours."
"Excuse me? You'd give them to me?"
"Yes. Things only gain value in the hands of people who can use them."
"Is that... so?"
"Just keep one thing in mind. Now that you've seen the blueprints, failure and fleeing are not options."
Riman bit his lip hard.
"Don't worry. I'll prove myself. I'll show you, Sir Lucas, that I still have worth as an alchemist."
"In that case — shall we eat before we get to work?"
"Eat...?"
I tapped the little bottle of MSG.
"I'll let you taste what this seasoning can do."
"..."
"You should understand what you're researching. Don't you agree?"
MSG calls for soup. That's the rule.
And the sundubu came out nicely today.
Time to whip up a pot of sundubu-jjigae.