A Recipe for Success
Unlike other provinces, Shandong was known for its rugged, towering mountains. Because of this, large cities were relatively scarce, but small villages clustered tightly along the main roads leading to the capital. Gaeun Village, where I currently resided, was one of those tiny settlements.
Mrs. Jang, the owner of the Gaeun Inn—the only tavern in this village—answered my question with complete honesty.
"I must admit, your offer is quite tempting, young man. I've already passed my sixtieth year, and cooking is becoming a bit too much for these old bones."
Mrs. Jang, who was rapidly approaching her sixty-first birthday, wore many hats: she was the innkeeper, the suksu—meaning the head chef—and the general kitchen help. Given her advanced age, I had often seen her massaging her stiff shoulders or rubbing her aching arms with a weary expression whenever she cooked. That was why I had asked if she needed a professional chef.
But her ambiguous response nagged at me. I could sense a deep hesitation lingering beneath her words.
"Since you aren't giving me a straight answer, it seems something is weighing on your mind."
"It's just... a small inn like ours can hardly afford a monthly wage that would satisfy a young man like you," Mrs. Jang admitted apologetically.
It was a reasonable concern, and one I had already anticipated. Gaeun Village only existed because merchant caravans and pyosa occasionally stopped to rest here before tackling the steep mountain pass. Naturally, foot traffic was light, which meant the inn's profit margins were razor-thin.
"If a fixed wage is too burdensome, how about we split the net profits?"
"Net profits?"
"Yes. The money left over after deducting all operating expenses, ingredient costs, and the like."
"But that might end up being even less than the meager wage I was planning to offer. Are you truly alright with that, young man?"
It was only natural for her to worry, considering how slow business was. But I had a higher priority. While money was undoubtedly important, my immediate goal was to test the waters—to see if the dishes I prepared would actually appeal to the people of this world.
"Well, that's only if we fail, isn't it? If we succeed, I'll actually end up making much more."
"You certainly don't lack confidence."
"Of course. Once you see me in action in the kitchen, you'll be absolutely amazed."
Gauging Mrs. Jang's expression, I could tell she was warming up to the idea of hiring me. At times like this, I needed to channel the raw, unshakeable confidence of my elementary school speech contest days and push hard.
"But what if business remains as dead as it is now? What will you do then?"
"I understand your concern, ma'am. But that can be explained by the very reason I disappeared for the past few years."
"What does your disappearance have to do with any of this?"
"To be honest... the reason I vanished was to enter closed-door cultivation, dedicating myself entirely to the path of culinary mastery."
"C-Closed-door cultivation... for cooking?"
Mrs. Jang stared at me as if I had lost my mind, but I pressed on without missing a beat.
"Because cooking is my one true calling."
"Your one true calling..."
"I am absolutely confident in my skills. I know countless recipes. And, though I hate to say this..."
"...?"
"You might actually regret hiring me."
"Oh? Why is that?"
"Because we'll be so flooded with customers that you'll be exhausted, and you'll want to retire even sooner."
"Oh my! Oh-ho-ho!"
Mrs. Jang burst into a hearty laugh at my shameless banter.
"My, I thought you were a serious young man, but you certainly know how to joke. Well, a man needs that kind of ambition, I suppose."
"I appreciate the compliment on my ambition, but I wasn't joking."
How strange. I literally did go into closed-door cultivation, so why does she think it's a joke?
After she finished laughing, Mrs. Jang nodded.
"Stop your nonsense and get in the kitchen. You should at least take a look at where you'll be working."
I was in.
Following Mrs. Jang into the kitchen, I was greeted by a space that was surprisingly bare.
"It doesn't really feel much like a kitchen, does it?"
I already knew the inn only served simple wheat noodles in vegetable broth alongside mo—a type of plain, unleavened flatbread. But even so, having nothing but a large cauldron for boiling vegetable broth and a single pot for cooking noodles seemed a bit excessive in its minimalism.
"When my late husband was still healthy, we used to make all sorts of things. But once I had to run it alone, it just became too exhausting."
"So you reduced the menu... I mean, the number of dishes?"
"If someone requests something in advance, I can make other dishes occasionally, but otherwise, yes."
Cooking is a physically demanding job. There is a reason why so many professional chefs are men; it requires standing in front of a roaring fire all year round, constantly moving your hands, feet, and waist without a moment's rest. Since an inn that didn't serve food was practically useless, it made sense that she had defaulted to the easiest things to prepare: simple noodles and mo.
Looking around the kitchen a bit more, I found a silver lining. There was an ample supply of long-lasting seasonings, fermented fish sauces, and bean pastes.
"There's hosi, fish sauce..."
Aside from those, there was a box of medium-thick dried noodles and a massive pile of something covered by a dark cloth. The object was so large that it took up an entire corner of the kitchen. It was too conspicuous to ignore.
"What's this?"
"Open it and see for yourself."
With Mrs. Jang's permission, I pulled back the cloth, revealing a mountain of bones piled high inside a large wicker basket.
"Why are there so many bones?"
"You know there's a large pig farm nearby, right? I brought back the leftovers from their slaughter. We have to make do with whatever we can to keep from starving."
Looking at the heap of bones, I was reminded of a certain skeleton who loved terrible puns. I almost let out an exclamation of awe. Examining the pork bones closely, I realized they weren't completely bare. There were generous chunks of meat still clinging to them—bits missed during butchering or located in hard-to-reach crevices. If I boiled them thoroughly and scraped them clean, they would yield a substantial amount of meat. Moreover, there were spine bones and trotters in addition to the ribs.
"Can you get these every day?"
"Of course. Butcher Wang, who does the carving there, is a local from Gaeun. I can get them for practically nothing."
Practically free? To think such valuable ingredients could be acquired for next to nothing! An idea flashed through my mind, and I immediately turned to Mrs. Jang.
"Do you happen to have a deep, personal attachment to plain wheat noodles?"
"An attachment? Goodness, what attachment would I have to food I only make to scrape by?"
"Then this is perfect. A dish just came to mind, and these bones are going to be incredibly useful."
"A dish made from pork bones?"
Mrs. Jang looked thoroughly puzzled. I thought she would recognize the concept immediately, but it seemed this particular dish didn't exist in Shandong yet.
"Well, you see..."
One year later, Gaeun Village.
The Geumhwa Merchant Caravan, having entered Shandong Province, arrived at the entrance of Gaeun Village before making their trek over the mountain.
"...That mountain is incredibly steep. It's already midday, and we still have to cross it," the caravan's transport leader muttered, shielding his eyes with his hand as he looked up at the towering peak looming behind the village.
Although horses pulled the cargo, the transport crew had to walk alongside the carriages. Even though there was a paved path, climbing the mountain was bound to drain every ounce of their energy.
Seeing the transport leader's grim expression, one of his subordinates pointed toward Gaeun Village.
"Leader, shouldn't we rest in this village first? Looking at the map earlier, there are barely any decent places to stop once we cross the mountain."
"We should, but the inn here is terrible."
The transport leader shook his head. He had stopped by the Gaeun Inn two years ago.
"Is it really that bad?"
"They only serve plain wheat noodles and mo. And the noodles are in a bland vegetable broth, not even a proper meat stock."
"Ah, that does sound a bit disappointing."
"We might be better off paying a local household extra to cook us a proper meal."
Still, they needed to fill their stomachs to keep their legs moving up the steep incline. Reluctantly, the transport crew headed toward the Gaeun Inn. However, the atmosphere in the village was noticeably different from usual.
"Why are there so many people around?"
"I was wondering the same thing. This village is usually practically deserted."
As they ventured deeper, a bizarre sight unfolded before them.
"Please line up! Keep the line straight!"
"In all my years, I've never had to queue up just to get into an inn!"
"Good grief, how long is this going to take?"
The front of the Gaeun Inn, which should have been empty, was packed with a bustling crowd. Furthermore, a young waiter—who certainly hadn't been there during their last visit—was busy managing the queue.
Then, a rich, savory aroma wafted from inside the inn. The moment they caught a whiff of it, the stomachs of the exhausted transport crew let out loud, involuntary rumbles.
"...I've smelled this somewhere before. It's definitely not vegetable broth."
"Isn't it pork bones? It smells exactly like pork bones boiled for hours."
"Yes, pork bone broth. That's exactly what it is."
The transport leader watched the patrons exiting the inn. Many of them were holding large, steaming bowls and chopsticks, eating on the go.
Inside the bowls was a milky-white broth topped with thick, savory slices of brownish meat, finely shredded vegetables, and a generous portion of noodles nestled at the bottom.
Gulp.
The dish was beautifully presented and looked incredibly appetizing. The transport leader swallowed hard.
"Leader, should we also..."
"We must. We absolutely have to try that."
He had expected bland wheat noodles, but to find noodles served in a rich pork bone broth instead? They simply could not pass this up.
After what felt like an eternity of waiting, the transport leader finally stepped inside the inn, only to be taken aback by the lively, almost chaotic atmosphere.
"More water over here!"
"When is our mo coming?"
"Ah, my apologies! Here is your mo."
"Three more bowls of Donyuk-myeon!"
"Coming right up!"
Had this inn ever been so full of life? As the transport leader stood there dazed, Mrs. Jang spotted him and approached.
"Oh, if it isn't the Geumhwa Merchant Caravan! It's been a while."
"Indeed it has. But the atmosphere here is completely different from before."
"Oh, of course! We hired a new suksu, and his cooking is absolutely divine."
With those words, Mrs. Jang pointed toward the kitchen. There stood a broad-shouldered young man they had never seen before, deftly portioning noodles into bowls.
"He's been working here for a year now, and thanks to him, I'm practically run off my feet!"
"...You certainly made a wise choice."
"So, will everyone from the Geumhwa Caravan be having the Donyuk-myeon?"
"Yes. Eight bowls, please."
"Eight more bowls of Donyuk-myeon!"
"Right away!"
With a booming voice, the suksu scooped up the noodles with a strainer, shaking off the excess water with sharp, rhythmic flicks. He then swirled the noodles neatly into the bowls before ladling the milky-white pork bone broth from the massive cauldron.
From another pot, he pulled out a beautifully glazed, savory brown slab of meat, slicing it into thick, generous pieces and placing them atop the noodles. Finally, he garnished the dish with a colorful assortment of shredded vegetables.
He's fast!
It was a speed unseen in ordinary inns or restaurants. His movements were flawless, executed without a single wasted motion, and his portioning was incredibly precise. Though he looked barely twenty, this suksu was undoubtedly a master of his craft.
"Alright, eight bowls of Donyuk-myeon ready to go!"
The suksu's cheerful voice rang out as the food was served. The transport leader and his crew carried their bowls outside and set them down on a wooden table.
"Wow... usually, broth made from pork bones has a strong, gamey smell, but this has absolutely none of that."
"I saw the way the suksu handled the noodles earlier. With skills like that, it's no wonder he can eliminate the gamey odor entirely."
Does his culinary skill truly match his physical dexterity? With that thought, the transport leader lifted the bowl and took a sip of the broth.
"...Mmm!"
An explosion of umami burst across his palate. There wasn't a trace of off-flavor, and the greasy heaviness typical of pork bone broth was entirely absent. It was as if the chef had extracted only the deepest, richest, and most savory essence of the pork bones.
This was on an entirely different level from any wheat noodles or pork-based soups he had tasted before.
Slurp, slurrrp!
The other crew members, having tasted the magic, practically buried their faces in their bowls and began inhaling the Donyuk-myeon.
And this meat... it isn't just seasoned with soy sauce. There's a subtle sweet and savory depth to it.
Judging by the slight firmness, it was undoubtedly chaso made from the meat left over after boiling the broth. Yet, the chef had managed to transform what should have been dry, flavor-drained meat into an entirely new, mouthwatering delicacy. It was both delicious and astonishing.
The transport leader, who never expected to find a dish superior to those in major cities in such a tiny village, also buried his face in his bowl. He wanted to dedicate his entire being to savoring this Donyuk-myeon.
And though the transport leader and his crew remained unaware, with every bite of the Donyuk-myeon they took, their depleted stamina was gradually being restored.
"..."
Watching the Geumhwa Caravan devour the Donyuk-myeon from a distance, the suksu, Yoon Gomyung, wore a satisfied smile.
It's a success.
"Young man! The orders are piling up, what are you doing standing around!"
"Ah, yes, ma'am!"
Snapped out of his thoughts by Mrs. Jang's sharp shout, Yoon Gomyung busily began ladling noodles once more. It wasn't time to slack off just yet.