Chicken Soup for the Soul
There were nine people in total from the Mutual Righteousness Academy. A middle-aged elder of the Beggars' Sect, the strict-looking Director Dan, and a Taoist priest who looked to be somewhere between middle-aged and elderly, seemingly from the Wudang Sect. These three appeared to be the highest-ranking individuals.
The remaining six, who seemed to be of similar age—including the martial artist who had complained to me that one tael of silver was too expensive to rent the inn—sat at a different table.
Mrs. Jang and the waiter serving tea to the three masters didn't seem to notice, but the moment I drew near, the sheer pressure radiating from the three of them pressed against my skin, making it hard to approach.
Wait, why? Mrs. Jang and the waiter are perfectly fine, and even their martial artist attendants don't seem bothered. Why am I the only one feeling this chill? I couldn't understand it, but for now, I had to focus on the cooking.
I trimmed the fatty tails and wingtips, thoroughly cleaning the raw chickens. Then, I stuffed their cavities with soaked glutinous rice, jujubes, garlic, and peeled ginkgo nuts. Using pre-sterilized silk thread, I crossed and tied the chicken legs to prevent the stuffing from spilling out.
Once all nine plump chickens were prepared, it was time to simmer them in hot broth. The broth was made like this:
I took the chicken bone broth I had boiled the previous day until it turned milky white, added finely chopped chicken breast, let it simmer briefly, and then strained it immediately. This process clarified the cloudy broth, turning it beautifully clear. It was a cheongtang—a clear chicken broth—that boasted an incredible umami flavor even if drunk on its own.
Next, I finely sliced a thick, ten-year-old hasuo along with various medicinal herbs guaranteed to wash away fatigue. I placed the clear chicken broth, the prepared raw chickens, and the herbs together into round clay jars. Sealing the lids of the nine jars, I placed them inside a large iron steamer and set it over the fire.
This was originally the cooking method for Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, a famous dish from the Guangdong province, which typically requires a very long simmering process. However, this wasn't Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, and if you boil samgyetang for too long, the glutinous rice makes the soup far too thick and sticky.
This was where my inner qi came in. Originally, this was a technique used in the Elixir Refining Method to maximize the efficacy of spiritual medicines in a short amount of time. But I was using it for cooking.
There was no other way to maximize the benefits of the herbs and the ten-year-old hasuo inside the jars in such a short window. If the old man Yakseon, the creator of this elixir refining method, saw me, he would probably curse me out for using a secret technique just to cook. But since he locked me up for four years, he should at least forgive this much. Be grateful that your martial arts didn't die out with your generation, old man.
Sssss... I placed my hands over the steamer and slowly channeled my energy into it. A faint haze of heat shimmered upward, fueled by my infused inner qi. If channeling energy into a sword created sword-qi, and into a fist created fist-qi, did this make it steamer-qi?
"..." Steamer-qi? Now that I thought about it, that sounded absolutely ridiculous. In Hanja, would it just be steam? Regardless, doing this accelerated the convection inside the steamer, causing the medicinal properties of the herbs and hasuo inside the jars to react dramatically with my inner qi. A soup that would normally need to simmer all day was fully cooked in just ten minutes. Of course, this was a method that anyone without inner qi could never hope to replicate.
Shhhhhhh! A strange, rushing sound echoed from inside the steamer, indicating that everything was going perfectly. Surely the martial artists drinking tea inside the inn won't notice this, right? And just like that, the ten minutes of cooking were complete. Even though the steamer was piping hot, wrapping my hands in qi meant I didn't feel a thing. I wouldn't be needing oven mitts anymore.
When I lifted the lid of the steamer to check the aroma, a scent so rich and intense burst forth that it felt like it could make a Buddhist monk triple-axel over a temple wall.
"I made this, but... wow, this is insane," I muttered to myself. For some reason, my culinary success rate felt even higher here than it had back in Korea. Does learning martial arts actually make your cooking taste better?
Honestly, I wanted to tell the Mutual Righteousness Academy to get lost and devour all of this myself. But if I did that, those three Absolute Masters outside would probably deploy an inescapable dragnet to hunt me down. Shaking the thought from my head, I called Mrs. Jang and the waiter to help carry the sealed jars out one by one.
When the guests, who had ordered a meal, were presented with individual clay jars, bewildered looks spread across their faces.
"Jars?"
"Muryangsubul... A dish cooked in a jar usually points to Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, but we are not in Guangdong, are we?"
"The chef might be from the Guangdong region."
When they had first entered the inn, I had caught their names. Oh Waja, the elder of the Beggars' Sect, looked at me as if expecting confirmation, but as a Korean, I naturally shook my head.
"I am not from Guangdong. And this dish is not Buddha Jumps Over the Wall either."
"Then what is the name of this dish?"
"It is called Simryeong-gyetang."
Simryeong-gyetang. Literally translated, it meant "Chicken Soup for the Soul." Long before I was born, there was a globally famous bestselling self-help book called Chicken Soup for the Soul. There was a specific reason I had borrowed that title for my dish.
"It is best enjoyed while it is hot." As I bowed politely and stepped back, the three Absolute Masters each chimed in.
"Since it is called a chicken soup, it must contain chicken. Is it alright for a Taoist to partake?"
"I am sure the Primeval Lord of Heaven will grant an exception for today."
"Tsk, tsk. When it comes to delicious food, whether it's a bald monk from Shaolin or a horse-nosed Taoist, you all sound the exact same. Director Dan, let us eat."
At Oh Waja's prompting, Dan Buyong nodded and carefully lifted her lid. Whoosh! A plume of hot steam billowed out, carrying an intense aroma. The rich, savory scent of chicken broth, the subtle bitterness of hasuo, and the earthy fragrance of various wild herbs instantly filled the entire inn.
"Ah...!" Both the elderly Taoist Cheongjo and Oh Waja gasped in admiration as they opened their jars. Dan Buyong, who had remained tight-lipped, instinctively covered her mouth with her hand.
"A whole chicken is served inside, so please be careful as you eat."
"A whole chicken?"
"Yes. That is the essence of Simryeong-gyetang."
"Hahaha, hoho... This is truly unexpected."
"To think there exists a dish whose aroma can rival the Longjing tea of West Lake..."
"...Remarkable."
Not only the three Absolute Masters but also the other six martial artists let out exclamations of awe. Seeing their reactions filled me with a deep sense of pride.
Simryeong-gyetang was a dish where I prepared samgyetang in the style of Buddha Jumps Over the Wall. Since ginseng was so expensive it was practically worth its weight in silver, I had substituted it with hasuo, which was a spiritual ingredient with equally potent health benefits. Besides, there was no ingredient in the world as universally familiar as chicken.
Even across the ocean in America, people ate chicken soup when they caught a cold. Buddha Jumps Over the Wall used chicken broth as its base, and in Korea, people ate boiled chicken or samgyetang as a summer stamina food. That was why I named it Simryeong-gyetang—a chicken soup meant to soothe and heal everyone's fatigue.
"I think... we should begin eating," Dan Buyong said, breaking the silence. With her declaration, everyone took their first spoonful of the broth.
"..."
"Oh!"
"My goodness."
The three Absolute Masters reacted in a perfect, escalating sequence. Then, as if on cue, their chopsticks began to move in unison.
"Is this truly chicken breast? I have never tasted chicken breast this tender in my entire life."
"Muryangsubul... I merely placed the drumstick in my mouth, and the bone slid out effortlessly."
"..."
Unlike Cheongjo and Oh Waja, whose praises were almost embarrassing to hear, Dan Buyong ate in absolute silence. What's wrong? Does she not like it? I've never met a single person who disliked samgyetang. She was mumbling something under her breath, but it was too quiet for me to make out.
By the time they had stripped most of the meat from the bones, Oh Waja, who was eating the fastest, spoke up in surprise. "Oh, there is glutinous rice inside as well?"
"It is best enjoyed mixed into the broth."
"I wondered why the broth had such a perfectly seasoned depth to it. This explains it."
The glutinous rice had absorbed the rich, velvety chicken broth, with steam still rising gently from the jar. Oh Waja took a massive bite of the rice. As expected, the Beggars' Sect really knows how to appreciate good food. The others seemed to agree, as Cheongjo and Dan Buyong followed suit, thoroughly enjoying their meals.
Thus, the nine representatives of the Mutual Righteousness Academy waged a fierce battle against the Simryeong-gyetang, leaving nothing but a battlefield of empty jars and stripped chicken bones.
"Ah..."
"Mmm..."
"Haaah..."
The sighs of the three Absolute Masters were filled with lingering regret that the meal was over. Hehehe. Now that they've finished eating, the medicinal effects should be kicking in, making them feel incredibly relaxed. My prediction was spot on.
Cheongjo, who usually wore a gentle smile; Oh Waja, who always looked slightly grumpy; and even Dan Buyong, with her cold and strict demeanor, were all staring blankly at the ceiling, completely dazed. Good grief, a fly could wander into their mouths right now and they wouldn't even notice.
Furthermore, even though it was a warm spring day, the inn was located at the foot of a mountain and tended to be chilly. Yet, all nine of them were dripping with sweat, looking exactly like people who had just spent an hour in a hot sauna. It was clear to anyone that the fatigue from their long journey had been completely washed away. It was time to serve dessert.
I signaled the waiter to bring out the dessert. He immediately headed into the kitchen and returned carrying a whole wicker basket.
"This is ssukbeomuri, a steamed mugwort cake made with mugwort from the Shandong region, paired with a tea brewed from cornelian cherry flowers."
"Ah, yes... I see..." Oh Waja, still half-dazed, squeezed out a response as he accepted the mugwort cake and the cornelian cherry flower tea.
As they ate the slightly bitter mugwort cake, bursting with the scent of spring, and drank the refreshing cornelian cherry flower tea, they slowly began to regain their senses. Watching them find peace brought a sense of comfort to me as well.
"Whew, my goodness."
"I don't think I have ever eaten lunch in such a daze in my entire life."
"..."
However, Dan Buyong was the only one whose expression remained dark. I knew my food couldn't have tasted bad, so I couldn't understand why she was reacting this way. After completely finishing her mugwort cake and tea, Dan Buyong turned her gaze toward me.
"Did you say your name was Chef Yoon?"
"Yes, Director Dan."
"A word with you."
"Pardon?"
"Follow me outside."
To be precise, it felt exactly like being summoned to the office by the dean of discipline when you hadn't even done anything wrong. Being suddenly called out by a master whose strength I couldn't even begin to measure sparked a sudden wave of fear in the corner of my heart. Is she going to say, 'Since you cooked so well, I shall reward you with a fatal wound! Yah!' and stab me with the sword at her waist? Or something like that?
Just as my mind was running wild with all sorts of scenarios, Dan Buyong stopped behind the empty warehouse at the back of the inn and stared straight at me.
"Your family name is Yoon, but what is your given name?"
"Pardon? Ah... it's Gomyung."
"...How can someone's name be Gomyung?"
"May I speak frankly, Director?"
"What is it?"
"Well, your name is Buyong, isn't it?"
"My name is taken from the beautiful hibiscus flower!"
"My grandfather named me using the characters for 'high' and 'bright,' wishing for me to become a person of high insight and bright learning."
"No, I didn't mean it like that..."
The moment I brought up my grandfather, Dan Buyong shut her mouth. This was why speaking carelessly could easily make one look like an unfilial scoundrel.
"...Fine, Chef Yoon. I misspoke."
"It is quite alright. I hear it often enough."
My grandfather really had named me that, and since I had been teased about it my entire life, I had nothing to say. For the record, my English name was Garnish.
"Where did you learn medicine?"
"If I may ask without being rude, what made you suspect that I have studied medicine?"
"The combination of herbs in the chicken broth aligned with the Yin-Yang and Five Elements, the exceptionally pronounced efficacy of the ten-year-old hasuo, and the dense aura of inner qi lingering around the entire jar. All of it."
"Did you really sense all of that?"
"I only truly sensed the first one. I threw out the second and third because I was suspicious, but it seems I was right."
Dan Buyong smirked slightly as she spoke. Ah, damn it... I totally fell for her trap.
"Physicians who know the Medicine Formulation Method or the Elixir Refining Method to multiply the efficacy of herbs are rare. Why is someone with such medical skill working as a chef?"
"Saving lives through medicine is indeed a noble calling. However, I simply love seeing the joy on people's faces when they eat the food I make."
Hearing my response, a flicker of irritation crossed Dan Buyong's face, as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"What nonsense... Do you really love cooking that much?"
"It has been my lifelong dream."
"A dream? Even though you could save hundreds, thousands of lives with your medical skills?"
"Cooking and food are no different. Nutrition is just as vital to life."
Choosing cooking over medicine was my sincere choice. How many soldiers and sailors throughout history had collapsed or died from malnutrition? The Japanese soldiers who suffered from beriberi because they only ate polished white rice, or the sailors of various nations who died of scurvy from a lack of vitamins. While there were plenty of people like Dan Buyong who took medicine seriously, it was incredibly hard to find anyone who treated cooking and food with the same level of gravity.
Perhaps reading the absolute sincerity in my eyes, Dan Buyong let out a deep sigh.
"You truly are dedicated to cooking."
"Yes, I am. To me, cooking is far more..."
Fearing she might ask me to join her as a physician, I was about to bow my head in polite refusal when—
"That works out perfectly, then."
"Pardon?"
I froze mid-bow, caught completely off guard by her unexpected words.
"How would you like to take charge of the nutrition of the righteous martial artists?"
At Dan Buyong's sudden proposal, I could only stand there, completely frozen.