A Taste of Memories
“Lots of protein, huh…”
“Pro-teen?”
At the word protein, Seia’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“Protein is full of good stuff that’s in meat. It helps keep Seia’s body strong and healthy.”
“Whoa. Seia wants to eat pro-teen!”
She had just finished eating, yet here she was asking for more.
Had her little stomach already grown hungry again after a short nap?
Jungwoo smiled and gently stroked Seia’s hair, his mind turning to what he should prepare for the building owner.
It was a dish he had planned for Seia today, one he intended to add to the menu if the response was favorable.
Tonkatsu.
Frying is a little worrying, but tonkatsu should be all right, shouldn’t it?
He wasn’t sure what the building owner would think, but the tonkatsu at Seona’s Restaurant was a comparatively healthy version.
“Seia, do you want to make it together with Daddy?”
“Yes!”
They couldn’t do the actual frying together, but they could handle everything leading up to it.
Jungwoo took out the pork cutlets that had been thoroughly deblooded and rid of any gamey smell. He set bowls of flour, breadcrumbs, and eggs in front of Seia.
“What’s this one?”
“That’s flour. This is breadcrumbs. And this last one—you know it, right, Seia?”
“Eggy!”
Making tonkatsu was simple enough.
Once the meat was properly prepared, seasoned, and tenderized, you coated it evenly in flour, then dipped it in well-beaten egg.
After that, you laid the egg-washed cutlet onto a mound of breadcrumbs, pressed it in firmly, and turned it until every side was coated.
“Ooh…”
Seia nodded solemnly, eyes shining as if she had understood every word of Jungwoo’s explanation.
“All right, shall our Seia try preparing some herself?”
With a look of fierce determination, Seia nodded and pulled one bowl closer with her small hands.
She tried to transfer the flour carefully, but she still lacked the strength to lift the entire bag.
After a moment of serious thought, a clever idea seemed to strike her. She simply picked up the bowl and dipped it straight into the flour bag.
“Oh ho…”
Jungwoo watched without intervening, thinking quite seriously that his daughter might actually be a genius.
Once she had scooped about half a bowl of flour, her next mission was the breadcrumbs.
Those were much lighter. Seia easily flipped the whole bag and emptied every last crumb into her bowl.
The final challenge was the egg, which required delicate control. How would Seia manage?
She had never cracked a raw egg before—only boiled ones.
Boiled eggs didn’t demand such precision. Once you cracked them, the firm white simply peeked out.
Raw eggs were different. Too much force and the contents would explode everywhere.
Crack.
Before Jungwoo’s expectations could fully form, a surprisingly violent sound rang out.
Just as he thought.
Remembering how she had cracked boiled eggs, Seia had struck the raw egg with the same strength. Sticky egg white promptly invaded her hand.
“Eww…!”
“Haha. That was a bit too hard, huh? Try tapping it more gently, Seia. Think of it as making a little crack in the shell instead of smashing it.”
“A little crack in the shell…”
Repeating his words softly, Seia tapped the egg against the table with great care. This time it neither cracked nor broke.
Her competitive spirit ignited. She struck it again with slightly more force.
A sharp crack sounded as fine lines spiderwebbed across the shell.
“Wow! Daddy! Seia did it!”
But in her excitement, her grip tightened too much. The already-cracked egg couldn’t withstand the pressure and burst just like the first one.
“Ah!”
“Our Seia succeeded once, so the next one will go perfectly, right?”
“Yes!”
Jungwoo quickly offered her another chance before she could feel discouraged.
This time, Seia did not betray that trust. She created only the perfect delicate crack.
Success.
Beaming with joy, she quickly emptied the rest of the egg into the bowl.
She didn’t neglect cleanup either. She wiped up the spilled egg white and properly threw away the shells.
“Daddy.”
“Hm?”
“How many more do I have to crack…?”
“Let’s try three in total, shall we?”
“Okay!”
From then on, it was smooth sailing.
Seia transferred the remaining eggs into the bowl without a single mistake.
Jungwoo handed her a whisk.
“Now stir with this until only the yellow color remains.”
“Yes!”
Beginners often made the same mistake here—stirring so vigorously that they knocked the bowl over.
To prevent any accidents, Jungwoo held the bowl steady. Seia began with one hand, but soon switched to both as her little arm grew tired.
She stirred with great enthusiasm. Perhaps too much enthusiasm.
Yellow droplets began to splash everywhere.
Seia remained completely unaware that her clothes were turning steadily yellower, her focus locked entirely on the eggs.
She had definitely cracked three eggs. Yet after all that stirring, the volume looked closer to two.
Jungwoo couldn’t bring himself to tell her.
He simply wiped the splatters from her clothes and the counter with a quiet smile.
“All right, now take the meat—”
“Take the meat—”
“Coat it with flour—”
“Coat it with fwour—”
“Then coat it with breadcrumbs and it’s finished!”
“Then coat it with bweadcwumbs and done!”
Jungwoo demonstrated first.
The pink meat turned snowy white, then golden yellow, then white again in quick succession.
The tonkatsu was completed with surprising ease.
Seia followed his example, patting flour onto the meat with careful concentration.
Simply flipping it would have been enough, but she decided that wasn’t thorough enough. She grabbed handfuls of flour with both hands and pressed it on directly.
Soon both the cutlet and Seia’s hands were completely white.
After finishing the flour step, she moved the meat into the egg mixture.
Just like with the flour, she used her own hands to scoop and spread the egg wash.
Jungwoo secretly decided that this particular tonkatsu—the one carrying Seia’s handiwork—would be his.
By now the meat and Seia’s hands had turned from white to yellow.
When she plunged them straight into the breadcrumbs, the crumbs clung to her fingers like snow.
“Hehe. Daddy.”
“Yes?”
“Seia’s hand turned into tonkatsu too.”
“Huhu… Should Daddy fry up our Seia’s hand and eat it?!”
“No way!”
Her bright, bubbling laughter filled the restaurant.
Just then, the bell above the door chimed and the building owner stepped inside.
“I hope I’m not interrupting a happy father-daughter moment.”
“Ah, welcome. Not at all. You came at just the right time.”
“Hellooo!”
“Hehe. Hello there, little one. Nice to see you.”
The building owner accepted Seia’s greeting with a warm smile and took his usual seat by the window.
“What’s on the menu today?”
“Tonkatsu. Would that be all right?”
“Tonkatsu, eh? It’s been a very long time since I last had any.”
It was an old memory.
Too distant to call a fond recollection.
The owner had never particularly liked tonkatsu.
“My wife loved it.”
“Ah… I see.”
At their age, stories like this were common.
Either the husband or the wife left for the long journey first.
And at their age, everyone understood the same truth: the departure times might differ, but the destination was the same. Someone was always waiting there.
“It’s been… about ten years now, I suppose.”
His wife had passed ten years earlier.
She had loved tonkatsu enough to eat it at least once a week, even though her teeth were bad.
She would finish every bite, then complain that her teeth hurt, yet she never skipped it.
She said it was because she couldn’t eat it freely as a child.
Originally the owner had been indifferent to tonkatsu, but after eating it so often for her sake, he had grown to dislike it. A perfectly ordinary story.
Ordinary didn’t mean it wasn’t sad, or that it wasn’t happy in its own way. Jungwoo understood the old man’s heart all too well.
“Seia’s mother…”
“She went on a trip. Very far away.”
“…I spoke without thinking. I’m sorry.”
The building owner reproached himself.
Why had he assumed his pain was unique?
The person sitting across from him might be carrying the very same wound.
“Tsk. This is what happens when you get old. Forgive me.”
“It’s all right. Really. I’m happy now.”
As Jungwoo spoke of happiness, his gaze drifted to Seia, who was grunting cutely in front of the refrigerator, determined to fetch water for their guest.
The building owner’s eyes followed.
Who could help but love a daughter like that?
“Should I… change the menu for you?”
“No. Tonkatsu will be fine.”
“Understood.”
Seona’s Restaurant didn’t have a deep fryer.
Jungwoo poured oil into a heavy pot and lit the burner. Fortunately he had a thermometer, so he waited patiently until it reached the perfect temperature.
Around 165 degrees was ideal for tonkatsu.
When the oil was ready, he gently slid in one of the precious cutlets Seia had prepared.
The one and only tonkatsu in the world made by his daughter.
While it fried to a beautiful golden brown, he plated the rice he had cooked earlier, sprinkling it with black sesame seeds.
He added the mandatory salad, kimchi, and pickled radish.
For the soup, he ladled out the soft tofu stew he had simmered earlier with Seia in mind.
As the plate gradually filled with each perfect component, the tonkatsu floated to the surface of the oil, perfectly cooked.
He lifted it out, drained the oil thoroughly, sliced it into elegant pieces, and served it with sauce on the side.
The savory aroma of fried goodness reached Seia. She was already watching from her special seat, eyes sparkling with anticipation.
She licked her lips, thinking of the tonkatsu she would soon eat.
Click.
The tonkatsu rested appetizingly on a wide, round plate.
By some strange coincidence, it looked exactly like the ones his late wife had loved.
“I’ll enjoy this,” the building owner said.
He took a spoonful of the soft tofu stew first and his eyes widened in pleasant surprise.
The young man’s skill was impressive.
Even more surprising was how well the rich tonkatsu paired with the light, spicy stew broth.
It shouldn’t have worked, yet it did so beautifully.
He picked up a neatly cut piece of tonkatsu and placed it in his mouth.
Suddenly, something warm slid down his cheek and dropped onto the plate with a soft plop.
“Ah… how embarrassing.”
“Grandpa…?”
“It’s nothing, dear. Just some dust in my eye.”
It was an ordinary tonkatsu.
Yet perhaps because he had watched the joyful process of its creation, he saw something more.
The happy father and daughter cooking together overlapped with the memory of another ordinary couple who had once shared tonkatsu with laughter and love.