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“Ugh!”

In a sudden ambush, Karem nearly dropped the barrel.

As he stretched out his legs and braced himself with both hands, he let out a sigh, while the culprit who slapped his back scratched his smooth, bald head.

“Oops. Count Karem. I was so glad to see you that I made a faux pas.”

“I told you on the first day, but I’m only 11 years old!”

“Well, I just thought the rumors were rumors! Who knew they were true?”

The one who smacked Karem’s back was a large, bald middle-aged man with impressive red caterpillar eyebrows and a sharp Kaiser beard.

“And please, speak comfortably!”

“No way! If all those stories from Coldon are true, then even if you’re younger, you deserve respect! Right, everyone?”

At that shout, the chefs sweating over the massive stove shouted back in unison.

“AI!!!!”

“Of course! If you have skills, you should be respected no matter your age!”

“Frying really submerged in oil! Thanks to that, I’ve been enlightened!”

“And what about the Fire Witch Finger?”

The whole hall erupted with loud cheers from the barbaric warrior-like chefs, making Karem put the barrel down and clutch his ringing head.

It had been the same on the first day.

“Huh? Little one, what has your master ordered? Huh? Atanitas… the Chief Magic Consultant… Huh? You’re that little chef from Winterhome!?”

“What!? Little chef!? I heard you were a dwarf!”

“A real human child!?”

Of course, they didn’t believe Karem from the start.

But within a day, they realized it was true.

From that point on, Karem earned the burdensome respect of the barbaric warrior-like chefs, even if he spoke politely in their vernacular.

“Well, still… there’s a huge age gap of several decades—”

“Even so, how could one who made those arrogant, picky dark elf nobles plead so desperately and became the youngest Offerer in Coldon Wintersend not deserve respect? If not them, then which chef should be respected?”

Of course, Karem understood this.

The treatment he’d received in Winterhome had improved over time.

“But, it also depends on who you’re dealing with!”

The problem was one member of that group was just too overwhelming.

By title, he was on par with Zigmeser, the head chef of Winterhome.

His name was Borgo. No last name.

His position was the head chef of the Afterglow Fortress.

He was the one who had just slapped Karem’s back.

“Moreover, he’s been distributing various cooking recipes secretly passed down through generations of noble families all across Iceland!”

“Ugh! If you’re not moved by this, you’re no different from the slimy little frogs of Bersengzeto!”

“And since he’s rediscovered various spices, he definitely has the right to be respected!”

“…Ahem.”

Feeling the intense heat emanating from the muscular men around him, Karem instinctively shut his eyes tight. His face turned completely red. No,

To be honest, Karem was embarrassed.

To have so many people openly showing him favor at once.

He wasn’t a celebrity or an idol to have built up an immunity to this.

It felt different from Zigmeser’s blatant hand-rubbing.

His mouth twitched involuntarily, and heat coursed through his entire body.

“Ugh, this is too overwhelming; I can’t even speak.”

The chefs found his reaction amusing, and they cheered (genuinely) and praised (at least somewhat genuinely), but Karem had no way of knowing that.

“Whew, this is intense.”

“You’ll get used to the fame soon enough.”

“Anyway, may I borrow the kitchen?”

“As I said before, feel free to use it! Today, as well as yesterday, is for you and your companions?”

“No, it’s just me today.”

“Huh? Without a personal chef? Why?”

Borgo tilted his head.

“I heard you were supposed to meet with Sir Wallace and other stakeholders for a business dinner.”

“There wasn’t a mention of preparing a feast for lunch, though.”

“Outside of the inner castle.”

“Ah, then that’s different.”

Understanding this, Borgo took a glance at the barrel Karem had been carrying so carefully.

“I was curious about why you were handling that barrel with such care since earlier. Are you planning to use its contents?”

“Yes. And I nearly dropped it because of someone.”

“Hahaha! I’m sorry! It’s a habit to act this way when meeting someone pleasant! So, what’s in that precious barrel that you’re carrying around so carefully?”

“This is… um…”

Karem momentarily choked on the question.

He looked down at the barrel.

Anyway, he couldn’t call it soybean paste here, so he would have to name it something suitable… fermented… umami…

“It’s Garum. Garum made from soybeans.”

“Oh, Garum. Huh? I think I heard you wrong. What did you say the ingredient was?”

“Soybeans. Peas.”

Blink blink.

What to make out of what? Beans? Garum?

Borgo just casually turned his head.

The chefs turning the rotisserie, listening to their conversation, also froze, nearly burning the skins of whatever was cooking over the hot stove.

Borgo nearly lost it.

“Hey, you clumsy fools! The rotisserie! The rotisserie!”

“U-uhh! The skin is burning! The skin! The skin!”

“No! We’ve been turning it since dawn!”

At Borgo’s cry, the chefs, snapping out of their daze, hurriedly resumed turning the rods. However, some couldn’t avoid getting burned.

“Ugh. It’s burnt now!”

“Still, with this much… we can scrape it off with a knife.”

“Hey, that one with the chef’s knife! Yeah, you! Go hand me the chef’s knife.”

Slightly startled by the sudden commotion, Karem waited a moment before sighing in relief and speaking to Borgo, who was sorting things out.

“So, may I borrow the kitchen?”

“Of course. Use it comfortably. The empty space is… over there.”

Borgo led Karem to a corner where it was quiet but a bit isolated, pointing out the locations of the ingredients and spices and saying he could ask for anything he needed before heading off to punish those who had made mistakes by being distracted by the fire.

As Borgo’s smile faded, Karem began to feel as though that charm would transform into a beastly figure with a mustache straight out of hell as he approached the stove.

Karem left the ruckus of loud shouting and violence behind.

Anyway, this wasn’t his job, right?

Dropping dried kelp into the pot of water for broth, Karem started gathering the ingredients and substitutes for the soybean paste stew recipe he had in mind.

He would use the usual green onions, garlic, and onion.

He could substitute potatoes with turnips.

Zucchini would have been nice, but—

“Since I don’t have it, I’ll leave it out… Meat…”

Karem pondered seriously.

The meat typical for soybean paste stew was usually pork and beef.

Both had their own flavors and adding beef made it a delicious choice too, creating a dilemma in his mind.

“Rich flavor comes from beef, cleanliness from pork, but…”

Thud! Thud! Swoosh, clatter.

The heavy sound hit Karem’s ears.

Naturally, his head turned to see a cleaver resembling a Chinese chef’s knife.

It was an unbelievable sight to witness a butcher cutting large halves of beef into sections.

And, seeing them scoop the flat portion of the chest straight into a bucket filled with bones and other offal was simply surreal.

…Are they throwing that away?

Karem, entranced by the butchering, approached the chef.

“Excuse me.”

“Whoah! What the heck!? Who’s talking while holding a knife—”

“Sorry! I’m Karem, the little chef who has been in your care.”

“Oh, the little chef from Coldon? Phew, I thought I was going to drop my muscles.”

Thinking it was a bit over the top, Karem repeatedly bowed his head, apologizing as he awkwardly stared at the cleaver embedded diagonally near the cow’s spine, making the chef uncomfortable with all the bowing.

As the apologies continued, the intense gaze of the head chef swept over Karem, and he picked Karem up by the armpits, lifted him off the ground, and set him back down.

“Ah, now I can breathe. Did you come looking for meat because you need it, little chef? We just got some top-quality ones; how about I recommend some tenderloin—”

“That does sound tempting, but there’s a particular cut I’m looking for.”

“Just say it. I’ll give you as much as you need.”

“Then, over there. That cut, the whole thing.”

“Um?”

The chef followed Karem’s finger.

At the tip was a heap of meat destined for the poor in a bucket.

On top of that lay a brisket.

“…You mean that?”

In his confusion, Borgo accidentally used informal speech.

Karem, however, maintaining a serious expression, pointed at the brisket again.

“Yes.”

“No way! We have so much other meat here. Look! We have ribs that are full of fat and nice, rich tenderloin, and the thick, lean cut is a great choice too! There is sirloin, too.”

The chef was recommending other delicious cuts to Karem.

Brisket, though? The chef was serious.

“Or you could use the front leg or back leg for soup or stew; they’re wonderful for their chewy texture.”

Why on earth would you deliberately go for that tough, hard-to-eat cut?

The chef simply couldn’t understand.

Back in the days of food scarcity, that would have made sense, but now, giving the meat meant for the poor? No matter how well it’s cooked, it’s just tough and requires a long simmer to be at least somewhat edible—why though? It’s definitely not ideal for making broth.

“I want brisket.”

“…Really?”

“Yep.”

The chef continued recommending other cuts to Karem.

Surely, that cut was not suitable for serving to customers…

But Karem insisted on the brisket, rudely taking a chunk of it before the baffled chef.

Returning to his place, Karem slammed the brisket down onto the cutting board.

Brisket.

Also known as, 차돌양지 (brisket).

Pulling out Pelwinter’s well-loved lie from his bosom, Karem sliced the brisket separating it into thin, even pieces and checked the cross-section.

“Wow, check out the marbling.”

Red meat punctuated with white fat like waves in a river.

The quality of the meat was no lie, and the ratio of brisket meat to fat was truly exquisite.

“Brisket is perfect for soybean paste stew.”

Even if beef were included, not all beef is created equal.

Brisket is truly a luxurious cut.

The moment it enters the stew, the price tag changes entirely.

Not to mention, even a single thinly sliced piece doesn’t go for cheap; it’s common to find people who detest it across both East and West in his previous life.

‘Why on earth would they want to throw away such a delicious cut?’

Karem could not fathom it.

However, brisket, or 차돌양지, had historically been one of the most despised meats.

After the barbecue cooking method spread, its consumption increased in the West.

It wasn’t until after significant events like the Great Depression that it truly became mainstream.

It was the same in the East until barbecue was introduced.

It wasn’t that people from other countries didn’t know how to eat meat.

Historically, the entire citizenry of the Korean Peninsula has been infatuated with beef, which is quite the oddity.

What nation could say they consumed every single part of the cow without wasting even the innards, literally from head to toe? Rarely do you find a country with a beef-centric culture to this degree.

Karem placed the pot with the gathered dried kelp on the fire and began chopping the brisket into bite-sized pieces.

It was undoubtedly a considerable amount for a soybean paste stew.

If he added it all in, it would turn from stew to oily broth.

“I’ll have to grill the rest.”

Rapidly generating smoke on the hot griddle, the brisket was quickly releasing fat and sizzling away.

Before long, the preparation of the brisket was complete.

Karem cleared the cutting board piled high with pieces of brisket, thicker than paper, combining it with the chef’s knife.

Then he took the barrel he’d placed on the floor and set it on the table.

As he opened the lid, flavors buried deep in his mind began to bubble up.

 

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