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Karem flipped the cutting board onto the pan without hesitation.

<CRACK! - Sizzziiiiiiiiiii!>

As the cutting board hit the pan, a pile of brisket erupted with a fierce white steam.

The brisket, stacked high enough to obscure the bottom of the pan, quickly shrank amidst the white vapors, expelling its grease…

Borgo’s eyebrows twitched.

He was not pleased.

“Hmm… I must say this as the one in charge of the pan, but…”

“Is there something bothering you?”

“Is this really how it’s supposed to be cooked?”

Excessive greed calls for death in the dungeon.

Borgo distinctly observed with his own eyes how the heat trapped inside the mound of brisket caused it to steam instead of sear, oozing out its juices.

“If one of my rookie subordinates had done this, I’d have kicked them straight out of the kitchen.”

“What if it was an experienced chef like you?”

“I would have thumped their head with a pot and then asked for an explanation.”

“This too has its reasons.”

“Hmm?”

Karem understood why Borgo was reacting that way.

Moisture in cooking is crucial in many ways.

Too little, and the steak turns dry, the vegetables become chewy.

Yet, if there’s too much moisture, the steak ends up steaming and the vegetables dissolve.

Not every chef starts out as a skilled cook.

Karem also had his share of experiences in his past life.

He piled on too much beef, only to create a ghastly dish of boiled meat. Failing to control the heat meant the steak often turned into rubber.

But brisket was different.

“Hmmm. Ah, I see. Since it’s thin…”

Borgo’s eyebrows returned to their place.

Sizzle sizzle sizzle—

The juices bubbling up began to evaporate.

As the brisket, swimming in a sea of excess grease, began to sizzle, Karem quickly started tossing it around, spreading it out.

Thanks to clustering together, the brisket that hadn’t yet cooked was submerged in oil and was quickly grilled and fried.

In the meantime, at the bottom of the pan,

the layer of brisket forming the base of the pile began to shrink and shrivel as moisture completely evaporated.

Before it was too late, Karem swiftly pulled out the brisket.

“Ha.”

Borgo was impressed.

The well-cooked brisket pieces were smaller than before, yet the mountain of brisket piled on the plate seemed even more massive than before.

Each piece of brisket forming the mountain differed in appearance.

The ones at the very bottom, pressed down by weight, were fried until shriveled up, their moisture entirely gone, and turned a dark brown connected by thin strands of fat.

Conversely, there was also the meat that retained its contrasting qualities.

Being mounted at the very top, this brisket, which experienced the hottest oil later than the rest, had been fried, yet the fat was still white and the meat a bright shade of gray.

Between those extremes lay briskets where the umami flavor retained its essences, fried just enough to showcase their original appearances.

It became unbearable.

Reading Karem’s mind, he presented a plate to Borgo.

Borgo hesitated for a moment to prick the fork into it, before instantly swapping it for a cooking spoon.

He dumped a third of the mountain of brisket into his mouth.

At that moment, Karem also shoved the mountain of brisket into his mouth until it overflowed.

“Yeah. Meat should be savored to the fullest…!”

Crunch! Crackle! Munch!

The first piece that entered his mouth crumbled under pressure, releasing juices and grease, intensifying the unique savory flavor of the brisket.

Along with that, the crispy bits of fat.

Each crunch released the rich oil trapped in those fine shreds of fat, ringing through his teeth.

Followed closely by the endlessly soft and chewy brisket joining the chase.

Softness characteristic of thinly sliced beef.

Chewiness distinctive of brisket.

Crispiness of bacon.

Flavors reminiscent of three different cooking methods whirled around in his mouth.

“Hmmmm. Oh my god.”

Borgo marveled, his mustache fluttering as he exhaled in delight.

While he was chewing slowly, overwhelmed with joy, the cook boiling the spaghetti cut like knife noodles yelled out.

“Chief! Everyone is working hard, and you’re the only one eating!?”

“What the heck! The chief is grilling meat with the guest!”

“I was tasting the meat for everyone’s lunch. Look at this. Does it look like a proper meal? Quiet now, is everything ready!?”

Upon hearing that, the cook, who had been simmering soybean paste stew, threw a handful of fire witch finger powder into the stew while yelling.

“Almost done!”

“Since we’re nearly ready, you lot, stop fooling around and line up!”

“Shouldn’t we need plates?”

“I’ll just pile it on top, so bring me a griddle, no, a baking tray!”

Ignoring the protests, Borgo accepted the large baking tray and placed it onto the charcoal stove while Karem peered into the pot filled with soybean paste stew.

In the thick dark yellow broth bubbling with orange foam, red pepper powder and vegetables were swimming in abundance alongside the brisket.

‘That looks delicious.’

Karem honestly felt excited.

Even more so than the first time.

The larger the pot, the tastier the soup, as evidenced by the samgyetang he had during training in his past life.

No matter how bad it tastes, with the premise that plenty of ingredients were simmered together, it’s normal for it not to taste bad.

The cook next to him tossed in the pre-cooked noodles.

As moisture was extracted, and the starch clinging to the noodles began to dissolve, the stew thickened, turning into a gooey mix where the noodles swam along with the ingredients.

Thick soybean paste noodle soup.

Noodle stew.

It looked so salty that one could nearly feel the saltiness just by looking.

“Why don’t you queue up properly?”

“Oh, ah. Wow. When did the line get so long?”

Seeing dozens of cooks each holding large bowls, Karem hesitated a bit before grabbing a nearby bowl and joined the line that had formed beside him.

There were a lot of people, but since the serving speed was swift, Karem, who had been waiting relatively far back, soon received his serving.

He followed suit with a bowl filled to the brim with soybean paste noodles.

In front of the baking tray, Borgo was piling the brisket high and grilling it.

The amount of prepared brisket was tremendous.

A mountain of thin slices that seemed more than enough for dozens.

Even with such a staggering amount, Borgo seemed too busy watching the flames to even notice the brisket disappearing beneath the plates of the other cooks passing by.

“Oh, you’ve come. So, did you have a taste of that bean stew with the spaghetti added in?”

“No. By the time everything was ready, I was swept away into the line.”

<Splash.>

A mountain of brisket was laid atop the bowl.

So much so that the stew and noodles were completely hidden.

“Uh, I think I got more than the person in front.”

“Even though you’re young, you should eat enough for lunch to fill you up, right?”

“No, but this is just too much—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. The noodles will dissolve quickly.”

Suddenly, Karem found himself pushed out of the line.

One hand held a fork, while the other bore a bowl of soybean paste noodles hidden beneath a pile of brisket.

Karem set the bowl down on the table and gazed down at the mountain of brisket.

“Earlier, it looked salty, but—”

Now, it appeared greasy.

Yet, he felt no repulsion.

After all, why would one consume brisket?

For the distinctive umami and richness it carried.

Worrying about the oil settling beneath the soybean paste noodles could be dealt with later.

Karem scooped up the towering brisket as if it were a rice bowl, shoveling it into his mouth.

He had only thought about it in his past life.

An extravagant action he had never actually executed.

Even with his mouth stuffed to the brim with brisket, there was still more left on the plate, causing a wave of satisfaction to explode within Karem, mixing with a guilty pleasure while he devoured the beef.

From above, perhaps it was a bit seasoned, the rich beef aroma was accented by a hint of pepper—a perfect blend, exploding with juices and grease as Karem chewed on the brisket.

A flood of juices and grease.

Greasy? But rather, this is the richness he craved.

After repeating the act a several times, Karem finally dared to glance down at the soybean paste noodles.

“Indeed, I was rather disappointed when I first tasted it.”

Now, what would it be like?

While it surely couldn’t beat MSG, he still felt a twinge of anticipation.

A flavor that must have emerged from dozens of servings of ingredients.

Thicker broth due to the noodles being added.

Even without MSG, it wasn’t a combination to be overlooked.

First, there was the broth. Karem tilted the bowl to his lips.

The hot and thick soup surged into his mouth, sweeping away the coating of juices and grease.

It was far better than the last time.

As expected, when considering it was a substantial amount, he felt the familiar greasiness as the brisket piled high again.

The grease from the mountain of brisket had certainly settled in the stew, yet the spiciness from the broth masked it before he could fully savor the richness.

However, there was still brisket incorporated in the broth.

At present, the brisket held a slight upper hand over the broth.

Karem’s hand instinctively moved to the noodles.

With a flick of the fork, he stirred the noodles and eagerly slurped them into his mouth.

Thick, yellow-tinged noodles filled his mouth, leading Karem to feel a profound satisfaction that can only come from meeting his carbohydrate needs.

Salty, spicy, and rich in grease.

But above all, beef is always paired perfectly with carbs.

Karem felt deeply why people remain so devoted to rice and bread.

He savored the texture of the noodles with his mouth and throat, following the lingering flavor of the soybean paste broth that clung to the noodles.

“…Something feels lacking.”

Even after all this, something still felt off.

Karem felt disappointment again, though it was less than before. The taste was, after all, among the higher tier of soybean paste stews he’d had in his past life, yet the aftertaste lingered too weakly.

Specifically, 2% of umami.

‘Should I have used a different broth instead of kelp? Maybe bone broth or meat broth.‘

“Well, it certainly tastes good.”

“Huh? Are you satisfied with the flavor? You seem rather dissatisfied.”

“It lived up to my expectations, and the flavor is good, but I guess I feel a little unsatisfied.”

“Ah, I understand that feeling well.”

Borgo, clutching his portion of soybean paste noodles, shoved a fistful of brisket into his mouth and chewed.

“Hmm. Originally, cooking is about reaching the correct recipe through numerous improvements, so there’s no need to be impatient.”

“Indeed, a completed recipe can always be reworked.”

“Above all, isn’t this the first time making this bean stew? For a first attempt, this level of quality is rather impressive. Using pork or beef bone broth as the base may yield an even more personal flavor.”

“Seems like you think similarly to me. Something just feels off.”

Borgo, dismissing Karem’s concerns as an opportunity for improvement, finished the brisket on top of his noodles and slurped down the broth with the noodles in one go.

“Hey, chew slowly!”

“When we eat spaghetti, we barely hold back. Furthermore, since it’s a light meal, we can enjoy a heavier meal later on.”

“Hmm.”

Well, that’s how noodles are generally consumed, he thought, glancing down at his bowl.

The noodles and ingredients seemed to have vanished, leaving only the broth behind.

While it tasted good, he felt no desire to recreate it.

Not that it was an absolute no, but at least not until he figured out how to acquire white rice to eat with it.

‘Well, oatmeal exists, but…that’s insane.’

Dismissed the thought he had, Karem finished off the remaining broth and stood up, balancing three bowls on a tray. Watching with keen interest, Borgo asked.

“Was one bowl not enough? It’s understandable considering they’re noodles.”

“No, I have some people I’d like to share a taste with before it runs out.”

“Oh, your companions who came with you?”

“…If we’re in Iceland, they could be anywhere.”

After all, the one most credited for floating the soybean paste has a dedicated position elsewhere.

Karem held the tray with a reverent heart and fell back into line.

And then, an astonishing sound echoed from ahead.

“I feel like the texture is lacking somehow. Hmm… Yes! Adding cheese would be great!”

“Excuse me, what did you just say?”

That was something he could not tolerate.

 

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