Relative Diet Menu (1)
Godwin's tongue twitched.
The meat had not even touched it yet. But that intense fire aroma, familiar yet somehow not, flooded his mouth and teased his nose. For any Seophon native who took meat more seriously than anyone else, that irresistible scent of flame layered itself over the mouthwatering fragrances rising from every colorful dish spread across the banquet tables. Godwin's appetite, already wavering little by little, was forced to collapse completely.
He yanked the fork out of his mouth at once. A piece of chicken the size of a finger joint settled fully onto his tongue. Intense sweetness and saltiness. And then something he could hardly dare describe—a unique umami he had never encountered before. Because of its thick consistency the sauce did not spread through his mouth; it stayed right on his tongue, and for that very reason he could taste it even more clearly.
Until now Godwin's meals had been utterly bland. A scant scrap of bread kneaded with nothing but water and salt. Undressed vegetable salad and fruit. Boiled meat and salt—that was all. There had been no stimulation for his tongue at all. In other words, his tongue had been resting. Right now it was more keenly awake than ever, proven by the way it began analyzing every ingredient in the black sauce the instant the grilled chicken entered his mouth.
A sauce carrying a subtle seafood umami. Yet not a trace of the usual fishy smell. Godwin was certain garlic and ginger were in it—and then he was simply baffled. He could not identify the peculiar fragrance that lifted that umami, nor the second layer of savoriness at all. Still, he soon calmed down. After all, the one who had prepared this meal was Karem. Clearly the boy had created something new again.
Chewy meat scorched by open flame, the skin still cradling every drop of chicken fat. Soft thigh meat that tore apart and released its juices—perfect with the sauce. The pork grilled alongside it was the same. A leaner cut, so the meat aroma and texture were stronger, and it paired just as beautifully with the sauce.
Only then did Godwin notice that the scent itself was different. From the surface of the chicken, where nothing but the fierce perfume of burning firewood should have clung, came a flavor he had never tasted before. It was like stew left simmering until it stuck to the pot, like the crust that forms on a steak, like sugar boiled until it turns to scorched caramel. Similar, yet not the same. He could not describe it accurately at all. And that was driving him mad.
"Karem. What in the world is this black sauce?"
"To be honest, Young Master Godwin, you were right."
"Huh? Out of nowhere?"
"Most of the dishes prepared for you seemed flavorful yet still lacking real stimulation, so I made this sauce especially."
"What? For me?"
"Yes. Well, I did make the soy sauce that goes into it, which is another sauce of its own."
Godwin stared at Karem with eyes half-filled with surprise and half with emotion. Of course Karem's words were pure lip service. In truth it had been born from sheer spite over the ridiculous pushback he had received after making tomato sauce and paste—days spent offering sacrifices and praying at a temple he normally never glanced at. Bluntly speaking, "I made it because it crossed my mind" was more accurate. But an opportunity to look good in front of a superior had dropped into his lap; he was not about to waste it. The flattery worked. Then Karem drove the point home.
"Would you do me the honor of naming this black sauce?"
"Blacklight. Blacklight sounds good."
Godwin answered without a moment's hesitation. Even though the sauce was black, it gleamed with a rich sheen. The completely opposite meaning of "black light" could not have been more perfect.
Crunch—pop—thud! Crunch!
"Hmm. I was startled when you said steamed oats, but the taste itself is rather plain?"
"It's the staple, after all. That's why I deliberately seasoned it strong."
"True enough—my hand keeps going back to the rice."
"If I hadn't, you would have ignored the oats completely and only paid attention to the other dishes."
"Ahem, ahem! By the way, what's that pot over there?"
Caught dead-on by Karem's reading of his thoughts, Godwin cleared his throat and changed the subject.
"Please look that way."
"Hmm?"
Godwin turned his head where Karem's fingertip pointed. At the very front of the guest seats, a servant who had already obtained the guests' leave touched the pot.
-Bubble bubble bubble bubble
The pot that had sat quietly suddenly began to boil. Powered by the magic tool that kept its contents warm, the broth seethed; the flower of thin leafy greens and beef wilted almost at once, and the mushrooms shrank as well.
"So that's how you eat it?"
"Yes. It will take a little time, though, so please try the other things first."
"Hmm, right. I've only been eating meat, so maybe I should have some vegetables now."
The barbecue had certainly been delicious—the intense umami unforgettable, and it paired wonderfully with the rice. Yet after eating steadily, Godwin felt his mouth growing greasy. Time to cleanse the palate. His gaze drifted naturally to the second-most splendid dish: a pan layered with paper-thin slices of eggplant, tomato, onion, and Green Witch's Finger.
"I've been curious since earlier. This is a vegetable dish, isn't it?"
"Yes. You might not know it."
"What's it called?"
"Uh, Ratatouille."
"Hmm. Never heard of it."
That was only natural. In Karem's previous life, Ratatouille had become famous through a movie—a humble French country dish. Because a similar country existed here he had asked just in case, yet even Jigmeser had no idea, and only one cook in Winterhome's kitchen who had spent his childhood in Berseingeto barely recognized the name. A poor man's food of whatever vegetables were on hand, simply steamed. There was no reason Godwin would know a foreign peasant dish. That was why even Jigmeser had refused it at first: country cooking was country cooking and did not suit the dignity of a banquet. But after seeing the elegant version made famous by a certain genius cooking rat from France in Karem's previous life, he changed his mind. It was a world apart from the rough Berseingeto farmer's stew of random vegetables. Vegetables carefully chosen and sliced paper-thin, tomato sauce spread beneath, then baked in the oven—one could hardly believe the two dishes shared the same roots.
"Ha, this subtle sourness and unique sweetness are addictive."
"It would be best if you savored it sparingly."
"Hmm?"
"There's no extra tomato left for the Ratatouille. What's out at the banquet now is all there is."
"Ah, right—you said it was only recently developed."
Godwin carefully lifted another forkful of the Ratatouille heaped on his plate and tasted it again. The moment it entered his mouth the fibrous texture vanished; a mere movement of his tongue crumbled it like a collapsing sandcastle, and the pure flavor of the vegetables exploded. Soft eggplant, sweet onion and tomato, faintly bitter Green Witch's Finger. The tomato sauce that bound every taste together washed clean the greasiness left by the teriyaki barbecue. How could vegetables produce such depth? Godwin marveled silently and this time ate a little with the oat rice. The fierce sweet-and-salty notes were neutralized, and the concentrated vegetable flavor grew even stronger.
"What on earth did you do to get vegetables this deep? Doesn't seem like butter went in."
"Well, there are tomatoes, but Green Witch's Finger and onion as well."
Many people avoided Green Witch's Finger, yet its true worth appeared when it was roasted over fire. Grilled until the skin blackened, the distinctive grassy smell disappeared, the bitterness and pungency softened, and a delicate sweetness bloomed. Add onions fried to a deep brown. Olive oil and raw garlic were ground in for a long time to bind the sweetness of those three vegetables—and that was the red sauce now lying beneath the Ratatouille.
"…So two of the main ingredients of the sauce came from the Red Witch's Finger?"
"Green Witch's Finger is a mutant, and tomato is a mutant of that mutant, so yes, that's exact."
"No, how can the tastes be completely different when they share the same root…"
Slightly dazed, Godwin shook his head and muttered.
"All right, all right. This next one should be something a little more familiar to you, Young Master."
"Yeah, let's see. Ah—this I know."
"May I serve you a portion?"
"Of course."
Karem immediately transferred dumplings from the bowl onto Godwin's plate. Godwin brought a forkful close to his mouth, then paused at the familiar yet somehow different appearance and turned his head.
"Here—if you dip it a little in the sauce made by adding vinegar, pepper, and Fire Demon Hand powder to the soy sauce that went into the Blacklight—"
"Karem. Is this really pelmeni? The wrapper looks a bit thin."
"Since you're watching your diet, I used as little flour as possible."
"You even made the pelmeni skins thin?"
"I thought my hands would seize up. Really."
There was a reason old Chinese restaurants eventually dropped dumplings from the menu or switched to factory-made ones. For a single family meal it would be one thing. For hundreds of guests—plus the amount needed to refill the trays—the crude arithmetic easily reached thousands of pieces. The cooks alone were not enough, so servants and maids had been half-kidnapped into the kitchen to fold pelmeni, the dumplings.
"Hmm, it was good with sour cream last time—maybe—"
"Please be content with the sauce of soy sauce, vinegar, pepper, and Fire Demon Hand powder."
"I suppose so—"
Godwin grumbled under his breath, lightly dipped the dumpling into the sauce, and ate it. He had tasted pelmeni only a handful of times before, yet this was the finest of them all. Unlike the thick-skinned versions that required heavy chewing, these had delicate wrappers and generous filling so every flavor of the ingredients could shine. The moment the skin broke, rich meat juices flooded his mouth, yet the sour-spicy-salty sauce diluted them until not a hint of greasiness remained.
"But steak? Is it all right to eat steak grilled like this?"
"No butter—just open firewood flame. You may eat as much as you like."
"Really? Hmm. It's grilled soft and well."
Besides those, Godwin sampled many more dishes: teriyaki-sauced beef rolls with asparagus and mushrooms; mushrooms stuffed with seasoned minced meat; Snowrunner breast stuffed with sautéed onion, mushroom, and spinach, then grilled. And more—an entire procession of healthy yet somehow hollow-feeling dishes prepared under Karem's conditions in the main kitchen.
As if determined to forget that hollow feeling, Godwin attacked the meal with passion. Then, midway through slicing his second sirloin steak, his fork and knife simply stopped. He quickly took stock of himself.
"I'm already full?"
He had certainly eaten a great variety of dishes. Yet in terms of sheer quantity it had not been much at all—and already he felt full? No, not so full he could not eat another bite. Roughly half full. But compared with the amounts he usually managed, he had not even reached halfway.
Sensing Godwin's confusion from right beside him, Karem turned and gave a small, knowing nod to Elizabeth, who had been watching Godwin with quiet attention. Everything was proceeding exactly according to Karem's plan. Strongly flavored food instinctively drove a person toward bland staples such as bread or rice, yet the only staple within Godwin's reach was the oat rice. So he had alternated between the dishes and the oats. Oats required long chewing, and they filled him quickly. Karem decided it was time to drive the final wedge.
Reference Materials
-Pelmeni (in the story the wrappers are rolled thin, giving a boiled-dumpling feel)-
-Teriyaki beef mushroom rolls-
-Teriyaki beef asparagus rolls-
-Stuffed mushroom (Beef stuffed mushroom)-
-Snowrunner (chicken breast) grilled and stuffed with sautéed onion, mushroom, and spinach-
-Ratatouille-
-Sirloin steak-
These are pictures drawn by ChatGPT.