Thinly Sliced Pork Belly After Hard Labor
Thinly Sliced Pork Belly After Hard Labor
"Riman, did you bring it?"
"Yes, here it is."
Riman handed me a slab of Pog meat frozen solid.
It was flash-frozen—the foundational technique of freeze-drying—to make this frozen Pog.
"We ran the process as fast as possible to lock in the juices before they could escape."
"And it still froze through properly."
"I modified the magic circle to run a minimized Blizzard spell continuously inside the device. One mana stone will keep it going for about a month. Once I finish the pressure-lowering array, we'll have a working freeze-drying machine."
Riman puffed out his chest.
The deep dark circles ringing his eyes couldn't hide the self-satisfied look on his face—this project was clearly going well.
"How much longer?"
"I can finish within the week."
"Good."
A genius really is a genius.
Pleased with the progress, I set the Pog meat on the cutting board.
"I'm only showing you this once, so watch closely."
The knights gathered beside the board fixed their eyes on my hands.
"With enough focus, you can slice through anything in an instant. But when you channel mana, you have to be careful not to cut straight through the board. Understood? Hamilton?"
"Yes, sir!"
That bastard had already destroyed five cutting boards.
"The boards you wreck come out of your pay."
"Yes, sir!"
I channeled mana into my cleaver, ready to slice.
A thin film of mana settled smoothly along the blade.
This was the aura I used every time I cooked.
Shhk.
The mana-laden kitchen knife sliced the pork thin.
Shaved as if by a planer—hence the name shaved pork belly.
The moment it hit the hot grill, it would crinkle and turn golden-brown—today's lunch menu.
They'd worked hard. The least I could do was slice them some meat.
And while I was at it, I'd teach them how to slice it thin.
"Listen carefully. Your Sword Energy has to be thin, no exceptions. Think of it as using mana to coax out the ingredient's flavor, not bludgeon it."
Shhk!
"If the mana woven into your aura is too thick, you can break down the ingredient's core structure. So keep it as thin as you possibly can."
Shhk!
"Obviously, this isn't something you'll master in a day or two. So make it a habit—during afternoon training, practice spreading your mana thin."
Everyone watched me slice in silence.
Shhk! Shhk!
I cut enough shaved pork belly for seven grown men and Andrea.
"Everyone follow that?"
They all nodded, looking slightly bewildered.
They clearly didn't follow any of it, but that couldn't be helped. Newbies always look dazed at first.
"Take all this out to the platform in the backyard."
"Yes, sir!"
The knights scrambled out like fresh recruits on their first day of basic, with confusion still plastered on their faces.
Riman, who'd been watching the whole thing, turned to me.
"Um, sir?"
"What is it?"
"That sword technique you demonstrated."
"Ah, the ingredient slicing?"
"Yes. At their current level, I don't think they'll be able to do it properly."
"...You're kidding."
"I heard you came from the Princess's Knight Order, sir."
"Yes, that's right."
I'd scrambled to get away from Diana, but that knight order was one of the finest in the empire.
"Did any of them manage to spread mana across a blade as thin as you do, sir?"
"All of them could."
"Because they were the empire's finest talents. How long did it take them?"
"Hm."
The fastest to pick up my technique had been Andy.
She'd done it in a day.
Commander Luke took three days.
Even Depo, a senior knight, needed two full weeks to master it.
A raw recruit at the bottom of the ranks took three whole months.
Which meant these guys were looking at that kind of timeline at minimum.
And considering the Princess's Knight Order recruited exceptional talents, they might well take even longer.
"Damn. This is going to take way longer than I thought to make functional cooks out of them."
"I suggest patience, sir."
Hard to be patient when I could already picture my poor cutting boards getting butchered in the meantime.
Maybe I should ask Commander Lancelot to add extra mana-control drills.
I was deep in thought, trying to design the most hellish training regimen possible, when Andrea—done clearing the now-empty dining room—walked up.
"Sir, you seem troubled. Can I help?"
"Andrea?"
She was smiling, a little smirk tugging at her lips.
"I can help."
"How?"
"The elves have a secret technique for handling mana more easily. If I teach them that, they'll be able to roughly imitate your skill."
"Seriously?"
"Of course."
She tilted her chin up, the smirk growing.
"What's the trick?"
"First, you have to promise me something."
"Like what?"
"If I whip those knights into shape—turn them into something useful—you grant me one wish."
"You've got a dish you're craving?"
"I-it's not that."
Andrea hurriedly covered her stomach with both hands, indignant.
"Then?"
"I'll tell you later. It's no fun if I tell you now."
"Fine. You've got a deal. I'll grant any wish. But I'm not signing over the restaurant, so don't even try."
"Obviously not."
If she was this confident, she definitely had a trump card up her sleeve.
She was practically humming, a little tune under her breath.
"Let's eat first."
"Is it ready already?"
"With this many hands, prep goes fast."
I handed her the Cham Sauce—soy sauce, sugar, and vinegar mixed in equal parts—along with a heap of haphazardly julienned vegetables.
The Cham Sauce went over the slightly-too-thick onion slices.
For the scallion salad, I'd mixed the same Cham Sauce with chili powder in equal measure. A sprinkle of sesame seeds or a dash of sesame oil would give it a richer, nuttier flavor, depending on taste.
"Take these out. The knights should have everything set up in the backyard by now."
"Got it."
I grabbed the last of it—water pitcher and tableware.
A modest meat party was ready in the back.
***
A sharp sizzle.
The thin slices of shaved pork belly shriveled fast on the hot grill.
Fat sizzled and popped as juices shimmered across the surface of the meat. In a single instant, the pale strips turned a delicate brown, gleaming with an almost jewel-like luster.
The smell of melting fat hit the nose hard.
A feast of familiar tastes and familiar smells. Everyone stared down at the meat, mouths watering.
"Eat well. There's plenty more hard work ahead, so fill up while you can."
"Thank you for the meal."
Exhausted faces lifted their chopsticks.
Then I caught sight of Heimer, staring at the meat with a complicated expression.
"What's wrong? Looks like you've got a lot on your mind."
"..."
Heimer kept his mouth shut for a moment, then looked up.
"May I ask something?"
Every gaze at the table shifted to us.
"Sir Lucas, how long have you done this kind of work?"
"Seven years. From the moment I was first knighted, I did nothing but cook."
"..."
"And twelve years before that—that's how long I cooked before I even received my investiture."
That was the stretch I'd spent working in kitchens to make money, starting before I'd even graduated high school in my previous life.
I'd had to do something to survive.
And those memories were what had led me to become a cook knight in the first place.
It was the one thing I was truly confident in.
"Nineteen years... I see. That explains it."
Heimer closed his mouth, as if something had finally clicked.
"Feeling like you've hit a wall?"
"...Yes. It felt like something I simply couldn't do right now."
"Don't overthink it. Time will solve that one. I've been at this for nineteen years."
"..."
I picked up a piece of cooked meat with my chopsticks and laid it onto a crisp lettuce leaf.
Dipped the shaved pork belly in the oil-salt sauce, then piled on rice and ssamjang. Topped it with onions drenched in Cham Sauce.
I held out the perfectly wrapped ssam to Heimer.
"Sir?"
"Eat. Set that heavy thinking down for a minute and think while you eat."
"But they say endless deliberation is what forges growth."
"Sometimes, setting it down for a bit works better than digging yourself straight into the ground."
I'd seen too many newbies crack under pressure and make mistakes in the field.
How many had burned their hands or sliced their fingers trying too hard?
"Open up. A little encouragement from me. The side dishes include onions you cut yourselves."
Heimer hesitated, then awkwardly opened his mouth.
I shoved in the lettuce-wrapped ssam.
His cheeks bulging, Heimer chewed.
Crunch crunch.
The crisp sound of lettuce ssam between his teeth rang clear.
"Well? How's the taste of ingredients you cut with your own hands?"
Crunch crunch.
"...It's delicious."
He couldn't speak until he'd swallowed.
"There. That's it. Don't think about anything else. Take pride in making delicious food, and just work. That's the essence of being a cook knight."
"Pride in making delicious food..."
Sure, this kind of pride had nothing to do with a knight's honor or chivalry, but the relentless pursuit of a single goal—that part was exactly the same, wasn't it?
"Don't overthink. Grasp the essence... I think I understand what you mean."
"Good. Now eat."
Having delivered my excellent advice, I found a crisp lettuce pouch planted squarely in front of my face.
"Sir, say ah."
Andrea had wrapped a ssam loaded with meat.
"Elf special lettuce ssam."
"I can feed myself."
"You're not going to refuse an employee's sincerity, are you? Besides, I'm the senior here. You ought to treat me like one."
"..."
I had no choice but to accept the ssam she offered.
Crunch crunch.
The moment my teeth broke the lettuce, the tender texture of the shaved pork belly spread through my mouth.
Fat and lean alike melted on the tongue—soft, yielding layers of overlapping meat. That stacked, multi-layered chew reminded me of a croissant folded over and over.
The layered richness of juices and ssamjang.
Not a single grain of rice—just lettuce, ssamjang, and meat in lavish isolation.
"How is it? Good, right?"
It was a ssam tailored perfectly to Andrea's taste.
Mouth too full of meat to speak, I just nodded.
"..."
She didn't pick up her chopsticks. Just stared at me.
I looked back, and Andrea—lips slightly parted—pointed at her own mouth.
"You get, you give."
"I'm going to make it my way. That okay?"
"Doesn't matter. I trust whatever comes from your hands, sir."
"Fine."
I briefly considered stuffing in about five cloves of garlic, but she'd probably actually sulk, so I made her the same ssam I'd made for Heimer.
The only difference—I piled on an extra slice of meat.
"Open up."
"Ah~."
I fed her the meat ssam.
"Ith delithious. Hee hee."
"Glad it's good."
Maybe it was the good food.
Andrea and the other knights all noticeably brightened.
The memory of the morning's grueling work seemed to ease a little; everyone was smiling, trading stories about what they'd done.
"Heimer, relax your face. You still got yours thinner than anyone else here."
"My aura still feels like a sledgehammer."
"Ahhh, Sir Lucas's cooking is the absolute best! This ssam is no joke."
"I thought so back when I had the charcoal-grilled meat here, but the view alone is incredible. This is the kind of food you could serve to VIP guests."
"So this is what our neighborhood's been like all along."
Not a single drop of alcohol had touched anyone's lips, but they were already acting like they were buzzed.
Shaved pork belly really is good.
It had a different charm from thick-cut pork belly.
The tender texture, the speed at which it cooked—you could clear the grill in no time.
Drawbacks? You had to keep grilling more, and it didn't quite fill you up as fast.
Other than that, it was a perfect meat.
I laid a piece of shaved pork belly dipped in the oil-salt sauce on top of a mouthful of rice, then wrapped it with my chopsticks and lifted.
Straight into my mouth—the harmony of meat and rice resolved on the tongue.
"Mmm~."
If it got a little too rich, you could cut through it with the onion tossed in Cham Sauce, a bite of kimchi, some crisp lettuce, or a salad of mixed greens with dressing.
And if that still didn't work?
A glass of soda or beer, and it's done.
The faster that freeze-drying system got finished, the sooner I could build a carbonation injector, too.
I ate my shaved pork belly while imagining the many ways I'd torment Riman in the near future.
Shaved pork belly after brutal labor tasted incredible.
I brought out a pot of doenjang-guk—made by throwing in a little gochujang, roughly chopping tofu and zucchini—and set it beside the grill to heat.
Then I dropped in six pieces of shaved pork belly that had just started to show a faint Maillard sear.
Like chadol doenjang-jjigae, this pork-belly version with its mild spice was insane alongside the soup.
Absolutely delicious.
The pork belly melted gently on the tongue.
"This is why I run a restaurant."