The Taste You Know Is the Scariest: Toast (2)
"Jinwoo, this is so good! I think you could leave the cheese out... but that's just my taste, so set that aside."
"I'm glad it suits you. How's the sauce?"
"Right, the sauce! The sauce is seriously delicious. It smells like Nuardel, and I like that. How did you do it?"
"Those are the World Tree's leaves."
"Eh...?"
So your eyes are open now, Eilenna.
She had been rattling off her review of the egg-and-cheese toast with great enthusiasm when the truth landed on her, and for a moment she froze in shock, unable to get another word out. Well. The first time is the hard part. The second and third come easy. Come to think of it, last time she had very nearly eaten a Chicago pizza brushed with World Tree sap, though she'd balked at the last second once she realized she couldn't eat the sausage.
The moment you shatter the frame of prejudice, the horizon of gastronomy opens wide. Dipping flounder sashimi in a sauce of lemon juice and olive oil. Trying herb mint in chocolate ice cream. Ah. That last one was definitely wrong. Mint chocolate is a sin. Still, food existed in as many varieties as the world was wide. If you wanted to make better food and brew finer liquor, you had to live a little — eat a bit of World Tree now and then.
"How... how could you feed me the World Tree's leaves? That's too cruel..."
"The World Tree itself said it wished to be used this way."
"Even so. If you'd at least given me some warning..."
"Oh, come on. So you're not going to eat it?"
Lady Trea, the only one who could converse with the World Tree, had already said it was fine — so why was she making such a fuss? I cut her off and, with a soft push, popped a neatly quartered piece of egg-and-cheese toast into her mouth.
"Mmph— mmph!!"
"Well? Delicious, right? Then we're good."
Nod, nod. Eilenna's eyes flew wide in surprise. She couldn't resist a flavor she had already learned was addictive; flushing, she nodded. Mm. That was the correct reaction.
"Munch, munch... Haa. Fine. If it tastes good, that's enough."
"Right? Then try this one too. This toast has nothing in it but milk, eggs, and butter."
I offered her the French toast. She had skipped both breakfast and lunch, so even after polishing off one toast I figured she still wouldn't be full. And this wasn't only a meal. It was, strictly speaking, a test of the stall menu. If we were going to work together, she had a duty to taste everything and give feedback. Unlike the other toasts, I planned to cut the French toast into easy pieces before serving it. It was too soft to eat by hand, and it wasn't a sandwich toast stuffed with fillings.
Eilenna speared a piece with her fork.
"Oh, it's much fluffier than the egg-and-cheese toast. Then just one bite... haap—"
"Well? Is the flavor all right?"
"Mmmmmmm!!!"
Nodnodnodnod—! A violent bout of nodding that started almost the instant it hit her mouth. Eilenna worked both cheeks, chewing and swallowing the French toast before she spoke.
"I thought the egg-and-cheese toast was soft, but this is on another level entirely. Is this what it would feel like to eat a cloud out of the sky?"
"Wow. Would you look at that oversell."
Was it really that good? She was praising it to an uncomfortable degree. I found the excess a little awkward, but she paid that no mind and made no effort to hide her excitement.
"Oversell? I'm not sure what that means... anyway, it's so sweet and so soft. It's as good as the tart you made me back then!"
"Ah... then I should have just made you this back then."
The truth was, the peach tart I'd made that day had turned out better than I'd expected. It was a dessert I'd carried a quiet pride in ever since... and now it was being ranked equal with French toast. Was I supposed to be happy about that, or sad? Good is good. The return on the effort is unbeatable. From the tart dough all the way to the lemon custard cream, the whole thing had taken more than half a day. I'd reproduced that same impression in about an hour, so, all in all, I was happy with it.
And so Eilenna and I finished the feedback and the meal together. By the time we were done eating, one ham-and-cheese toast and one French toast were left over. Feedback helps more the more people you get it from, so when Calius came back as night was falling, I warmed the toast for him.
"You've had a long day. Try this. It's a toast I'm thinking of putting on the stall menu."
"Hm? Much obliged, Jinwoo. You even set a share aside for me... I'm touched, I tell you."
I hadn't meant to save it for him. They were just leftovers. But some things in this world are better left unknown. I said nothing, offered him a benevolent smile, and handed over the toast. At an aroma that stirred the appetite on instinct, Calius immediately took a huge bite of the ham-and-cheese toast — and, right on cue, a festival of admiration burst out of him.
"Mmmmm!!! Smack, this is really... smack smack, delicious enough to kill a man!!"
"Aigo, finish chewing before you talk."
"Ah. Pardon me."
I can put up with most things. Loud chewing is not one of them. Calius chewed the toast thoroughly, swallowed, and only then went on.
"Salty ham and cheese, a tender egg omelet, crisp cabbage on top of it all — fantastic! Especially this sauce. How on earth did you make it?"
"That's a trade secret. Delicious, right?"
"Delicious doesn't begin to cover it. I've been all over the trade routes, and I've never tasted a sauce like this. Jinwoo, while we're at it, why not scrap the stall and open a restaurant on the main streets..."
"Nah. That won't do."
The man was perfectly fine in every other respect, except that he tried to drag everything into a business venture. Still, if a veteran like Calius was praising it this highly, I judged the commercial potential more than sufficient. I hadn't even been able to show him the street toast yet, since the ketchup wasn't finished. That sauce hit so hard I was worried it might bury the ketchup's sweet-and-sour umami entirely.
The tomatoes I'd had on the fire since lunch had simmered down, bubbling, every last scrap of flavor drawn out of them — a ketchup in which bay leaf, pepper, onion, and cinnamon powder had mingled into one. I strained all the solids through a fine sieve and put it straight into the refrigerator. Age it cold until morning, check the flavor and the body, then settle the final seasoning and thickness, and it would be done.
"I'll head in first. Sleep well."
"Right. Have a good night."
It didn't feel as if I'd done much, but I'd been on my feet since morning, and I was tired. Eilenna had gone in and fallen asleep long ago.
The next morning, the moment I opened my eyes, I headed for the kitchen. The thought that I would soon be reunited with the ketchup had followed me even into my dreams — dreams of making pasta with ketchup, of dropping a spoonful into ramen and boiling it up. Ketchup is a sauce that takes tomato and spices as its main ingredients and concentrates them to the extreme. That is why, even in a dish where you catch yourself thinking wait, can I put this in here?, a single spoonful sends the umami wrapping the tongue shooting upward.
I opened the refrigerator and tasted the ketchup at once. Mm. It didn't taste good. But I wasn't flustered. It tasted exactly as I'd expected. This ketchup base still lacked the proper seasoning and spices. Taste is a fascinating sense; you perceive flavor differently depending on a food's temperature and thickness. Ketchup would mostly be kept cool, and only if you tasted it in that state and seasoned it to match could you call the seasoning proper.
I exchanged the onion powder and garlic powder I'd made earlier through Mana Market. Shuuuk— I only needed a small amount, so only a tiny thread of mana drained away. Unlike the onion and garlic powders of modern Earth, this was truly nothing but onion and garlic, dried and ground. Which meant, in other words: no flavor, but a strong aroma. That's what it comes down to. With no MSG or anything else in it, how could it have any taste? Ingredients do have their own natural umami, of course, but it can't hold a candle to monosodium glutamate. All I wanted was the aroma, though, and that was enough. I tasted as I went, adding the onion and garlic powders a little at a time, working in salt, sugar, and vinegar as I stirred. Over low heat I warmed it only to lukewarm, just until everything inside had dissolved.
And now... it was truly finished.
I dipped up a little of the sticky, red-glowing ketchup and tasted it. The instant it touched my tongue, an intense sourness spread — not the freshness of herbs or citrus, but an acid tartness that snapped the mind awake. Then sweetness came rolling in, in collaboration with every kind of spice. The cola people love to drink back in the modern world is full of spices too, but a superb blend keeps it from feeling off-putting. This ketchup was the same. The spice blend fit together with exquisite precision: sweet, sour, salty, and a complex aroma that shoved its face in without leaving a moment to be bored. There was simply no way for it to taste bad. Another-world ketchup: complete.
I didn't forget to register the finished ketchup in Mana Market. Shaaaa— With that, the sauces — the biggest problem facing the toast menu — were entirely solved. Then, why not make the street toast I hadn't gotten to yesterday?
Of all the many foods in the world, street toast — that is, cabbage-and-egg omelet plus ketchup toast — had become a universal street food in Korea for one reason. It lay in an extremely efficient way of cooking. First you melt butter over low heat and lay the sliced bread on it. Don't forget it; just flip it every two minutes and toast it to a golden brown. Meanwhile you shred the cabbage and carrots. I didn't have a julienne slicer, so I cut them with a knife, but with a slicer it would have been over in a moment. Then you mix the eggs with the shredded cabbage and carrot into a batter and pour it into an oiled pan. Chiiiiik—! Thicker than a plain egg omelet, but there was no need to cook it over too low a flame. Medium heat, until it took on a pretty light brown, and it was done. Ten minutes to get this far, if that. At the stall I'd have the vegetables shredded in advance, so it would be much faster than this.
I laid the nicely toasted, nutty bread on the bottom and set the egg omelet on top. And here was the kicker. While the surface of the omelet was still seared with hot oil, you slam in a heaping spoonful of sugar. Suuuk—! Spread it evenly so the heat makes the sugar cling, then shower ketchup over the top until it covers the entire surface. Ha. Damn. I hadn't even eaten it yet, and it already looked delicious. Dump sugar and ketchup on it this crudely, and there was no way it could taste bad. Cover the top neatly with the remaining slice of bread, and...
A complete food that, toast though it was, carried carbs, protein, and fat in balance, and was rich in fiber besides. Eat it with milk, and you could consider that day's hunger thoroughly dead — a ridiculous, soul-deep fullness. The summit of the taste you know is the scariest: the birth of street toast.
Calius had left early in the morning, so he couldn't taste it. Come to think of it, for Eilenna, who disliked ham and cheese, this toast would suit her better. She said she wanted to get some air in the front yard. Eilenna always stepped outside in the morning to drink in the fresh air. Why not be considerate of her routine and eat outside together? Prepare milk to drink alongside it, and enjoy a bit of leisure amid people busy with the morning.
Jjorreureuk— I took two glasses of the milk the mansion's servants had fetched at dawn. They said you had to go out from the early hours if you wanted dairy or good bread. It was such a filling food that I wondered whether we even needed extra, but better too much than too little. I loaded three street toasts, two glasses of milk, and a refill besides onto a tray and went out to the front yard.
"Oh, Jinwoo! What brings you out?"
"Nothing much. I thought it might be nice to eat breakfast outside today. This is another toast I couldn't make yesterday — I think it'll suit your taste better."
"Wow, really? Thank you!"
Eilenna smiled, her fresh yellow-green hair swaying softly in its long fall. When we'd first met she hadn't been this lively. Now she was like a puppy that had completely opened its heart. Humming a little tune under her breath, she sat with me at the outdoor table in the yard, and I gave her a brief explanation of the street toast.
"Toasted bread, with a cabbage-and-egg omelet, sugar, and ketchup in between."
"Hm... what's ketchup? Is it this red sauce I can see beside it?"
"Yes. It's made by reducing tomatoes... but it's different from tomato sauce. Sweet and sour. You'll like it."
"Hehe. Thank you. Then what's this toast called?"
"I'm thinking of calling it street toast."
"Awfully plain and common."
I could have sprinkled World Tree parsley over it and fished for attention with World Tree Toast That Made Even Elves Weep!, but I hadn't forgotten the original goal. Commoner students going hungry now that even the school meals had been cut off — they were my main customers. For customers like that, an ordinary name like street toast would be easier to walk up to than something that sounded expensive.
Eilenna and I each picked up a toast. Just as I opened my mouth for a big, expectant bite, my eyes met someone else's. Huh? That's...
"Eek!"
The brown-haired girl who had been staggering the day I'd gone to the Academy to contract the hardtack. Our eyes had met over the mansion's low wall. It was only an instant, but clearly she had worn a look of something desperate, and out of reach. Ah. This toast? Last time, too, she had been so hungry she'd taken the hardtack I gave her and eaten it on the spot. Then I could conclude it was the same reason this time.
"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I just... I'll go right away!"
"No, kid. Wait a second. You can't just leave!"
"Oh— wait, you're the hardtack mister...?"
You're our stall's first customer. I caught the girl as she tried to flee as if she'd committed a crime, darted into the mansion, and brought out paper wrapping. Shashashak— The spare street toast, wrapped with practiced hands. I held out to her the toast still full of the warmth of having just been made.
"Here. Eat it on your way. You saw what we were about to eat just now, right? It's not some strange food."
"I can't. You already gave me hardtack last time — what face would I have, taking this too? I'm sorry for peeking..."
"You're mistaken about something. This isn't free."
"...What?"
Both her hands were set on refusing. I forced the toast into them and said, "I'm going to sell these in front of the Academy, so eat it properly and spread the word. Bring all your friends. Understood?"
"You're giving it to me for just that? It looks incredibly delicious..."
"Of course it'll be delicious, and I'll sell it cheap, too. Bring a lot of friends and I'll throw in one for free."
"Ah, I understand. Thank you!!"
Unable to withstand the urging, the girl accepted the toast and walked off. Good. Another seed, sown. In the street-food business in front of a school, the most important thing is word of mouth. One student brings a friend, that friend brings another, and the customers multiply exponentially. A school commercial district that prizes value and a flavor that hits hard. And yet here was a cook who could order unlimited top-grade ingredients so long as his mana allowed, turning out an insane flavor bomb infused with Son-mat.
How are they supposed to resist this?
I hadn't even opened the stall yet, and already it felt as if a fair wind were at my back.