Chapter 44: First Production

Monday, 5 a.m.

Lee Jun-hyuk had a restless night.

Outside the window, everything was still draped in the deep blue before dawn.

Only the streetlights cast a faint glow over the damp street. That dim light, filtering in through the curtains, felt somehow colder than usual today.

Today was the day.

La Choy’s very first trial production.

He got out of bed.

His bare feet touched the cold marble floor.

From his toes upward, goosebumps prickled across his whole body.

He went to the sink and turned on the cold water.

Drip, drip, drip.

The sound of water falling from the faucet echoed through the empty hotel room.

He scooped the water into his hands and buried his face in it.

It was cold.

No, “cold” didn’t quite capture it.

It was like a blade.

His mind snapped awake.

He looked in the mirror.

His face, stiff with tension, stared back at him.

There were faint dark circles under his eyes… No, that didn’t matter right now.

“It begins.”

He repeated it in his mind.

Today truly was the beginning of everything.

With the money earned in Cuba, he was about to produce his first product in New York. Failure… He didn’t even want to think about it.

He went down to the hotel restaurant.

There were hardly any customers yet.

A waiter with sleepy eyes came over.

“Toast and coffee, please.”

“Yes, sir. Right away.”

His meal arrived.

Lee Jun-hyuk took a bite of toast.

He chewed mechanically.

He drank the coffee.

It was only bitter.

He didn’t have the leisure to taste anything. No, he hadn’t intended to enjoy the taste in the first place.

He just swallowed.

Like fueling up.

Like oiling a machine.

6:30 a.m.

He left the hotel.

The late March morning air pierced deep into his lungs.

The tip of his nose stung.

White vapor came from his mouth.

Proof that winter hadn’t fully left yet.

He pulled up his coat collar.

Scarf… Ah, right.

He’d lent it to Catherine last Friday.

He looked around for a carriage.

There was none.

That was to be expected at this hour.

The coachmen wouldn’t be awake yet, either.

“I’ll walk.”

Lee Jun-hyuk started toward the Brooklyn Bridge.

His shoe heels clicked against the sidewalk bricks, echoing through the empty street.

Tak, tak, tak.

A steady rhythm.

Like the ticking of a clock’s second hand.

A sign that time was passing.

A reminder that he could not stop….

Lee Jun-hyuk organized today’s schedule in his mind.

Check the raw ingredients.

Inspect the equipment.

Produce 500 cans.

Quality Control.

It sounded simple.

But in reality, mistakes could happen at any stage. If the temperature was off, if the timing was wrong, if the seasoning ratios were off….

“No mistakes allowed.”

Lee Jun-hyuk clenched his fist.

His nails dug into his palm.

It didn’t hurt. Or maybe he didn’t even notice the pain.

7:20 a.m.

He arrived at the factory.

Surprisingly, bright lights were already shining through the windows of the brick building.

Someone was here ahead of him.

He opened the door.

“Boss!!”

Yu Ilhan was standing at the entrance.

He was already dressed in oil-stained work clothes.

His hair was damp with sweat and stuck to his forehead.

“When did you get here?”

“An hour ago.”

Yu Ilhan gave a sheepish smile.

“I couldn’t sleep at all… so I just came out.”

His eyes were bloodshot.

He’d obviously been up all night.

But in those red eyes, a star-like passion sparkled.

“I finished all the equipment checks. Everything’s perfect.”

“Thank you for your hard work.”

“Hard work? I love doing this.”

The two went into the factory.

It was true.

The machines gleamed brightly.

The fluorescent lights reflected off the stainless steel surfaces, making them shine as cleanly as mirrors.

“Did you stay up all night?”

“Yes. I did everything by myself.”

Yu Ilhan puffed out his chest proudly.

On the front of his work clothes, the embroidered letters ‘84^ 아 {’ were visible.

When had he made that?

They went to the raw material storage room.

Burlap sacks were filled with premium mung bean sprouts from Shanghai.

Lee Jun-hyuk opened a sack and grabbed a handful.

They were plump and fresh.

He brought them close to his nose—there was that distinctive, green aroma.

“Did you check the condition?”

“Perfect. Top quality.”

Lee Jun-hyuk put a single sprout in his mouth.

Crunch.

It was fresh.

Full of moisture, too.

With this quality….

“Sample 056, is it here?”

“Right here.”

Yu Ilhan held up a small glass bottle.

It contained a white powder.

MSG.

The “salt of flavor” developed in Japan.

“We’ll add exactly 0.5%. It brings out the umami without spoiling the taste—a golden ratio.”

8 a.m. sharp.

The Employees started arriving one by one.

A total of ten.

All of them Veterans who had made canned food for decades at the previous factory. Most were older white men, but there were also two young women.

“Everyone, gather around.”

Lee Jun-hyuk stood before the Employees.

All eyes focused on him.

A young, Asian boss.

It was still an awkward combination.

“Today is a historic first for our La Choy.”

He put strength into his voice.

“This first product we make will determine the future of our company. The future for all of us.”

The Employees’ faces grew serious.

They knew.

That this factory had been on the brink of collapse.

And that this young Asian man was their last hope.

“We go slow. And precisely. Above all else, Quality comes first. Do you all understand?”

“Yes, sir!”

The resounding answer echoed through the factory.

He pressed the start button.

Wrrrrrr!

The giant machines began to move.

The Conveyor Belt started up.

Steam hissed from the pipes.

Thud, thud, thud.

The rhythmic sound of the Press Machine. Like a giant heart beating.

The first process was washing.

“Water temperature!”

Yu Ilhan shouted.

His voice was drowned out by the machines.

He shouted even louder.

“Forty-five degrees Fahrenheit! Holding steady!”

Cold water gushed out.

The mung bean sprouts went into the massive washing tank.

The water swirled, washing away dirt and impurities.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Repeated until everything was clean.

The water cleared up.

It turned transparent.

So clean, there was nothing left to rinse.

Next was the cutting process.

Zhak, zhak.

Sharp blades moved in steady rhythm.

The mung bean sprouts were cut to bite-sized pieces.

All lengths matched.

The thickness was uniform, too.

“Check the size!”

“All within tolerance!”

Then on to the blanching process.

In the huge kettle, water started to boil.

Bubble, bubble!

Steam billowed up.

The ceiling vent whirred, but the factory quickly grew warm.

Yu Ilhan held a Stopwatch.

His finger hovered over the button.

His expression was tense.

“Add the bean sprouts!”

The sprouts, loaded in baskets, went into the boiling water.

“Start!”

The Stopwatch started running.

The seconds hand began to spin.

One second, two seconds, three seconds….

“Exactly two minutes! One second over, they’ll get mushy. One second short, they’ll taste raw!”

Why did time pass so slowly? One minute felt like an hour. Everyone held their breath, staring at the kettle.

One minute fifty seconds… fifty-five… fifty-eight… fifty-nine… two minutes!

They pulled the sprouts out quickly.

The hot sprouts went straight into a tub of ice water.

Sssssss.

Hot and cold clashed with a hiss. White steam billowed up. The unique savory, slightly earthy aroma of bean sprouts filled the factory.

“Prepare the seasoning!”

Yu Ilhan brought over the pre-mixed seasoning.

Soy sauce, salt, a little sugar. And Secret Weapon 150.

“Measurements correct?”

“Checked three times!”

In a big tub, the blanched bean sprouts and seasoning were mixed.

Gently, carefully.

So the sprouts wouldn’t break.

Now, it was time to can.

The young women stepped forward.

With skilled hands, they packed the bean sprouts into cans.

Each can was placed on a scale to check the weight.

“Exactly eight ounces?”

“Within 0.1 ounce margin!”

Then hot broth was poured over the top.

Sssss.

Steam rose again.

This time, the aroma was even richer.

A blend of soy sauce and MSG—a deep, savory scent with umami.

Sealing began.

Thump, thump, thump.

The machine pressed the can lids shut with perfect pressure.

Not a single one missed. All sealed flawlessly.

Final process.

The most important: Sterilization.

The sealed cans were loaded into the giant pressure kettle.

The lid was closed and the valve tightened.

From here, it was the real deal.

“Temperature check!”

“Rising to 250 degrees Fahrenheit!”

“Pressure!”

“Up to fifteen PSI!”

Thirty minutes.

Sterilize at high temperature and pressure for exactly thirty minutes.

This was the core of canning.

Perfect Sterilization.

That way, it would keep for a long time.

The waiting began.

Lee Jun-hyuk stared at the pressure gauge.

The needle quivered slightly.

He checked the thermometer.

Exactly at 250 degrees.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

Fifteen minutes.

Time crawled by like a turtle.

No, it felt like it had stopped.

Everyone gathered before the pressure kettle.

As if they were taking part in some religious rite.

Yu Ilhan wiped his sweaty forehead.

Lee Jun-hyuk realized he was drenched, too.

His shirt clung to his back.

Twenty minutes.

Twenty-five.

“Please…”

Lee Jun-hyuk prayed silently.

He wasn’t sure to whom.

Just—please, let it succeed.

Thirty minutes.

“Time’s up!”

Yu Ilhan shouted.

He turned off the gas and released the pressure.

Psshhhhhhhh!

A piercing sound, and white steam burst out.

It shot toward the ceiling.

Hot air slapped his face.

They waited for the pressure to fully drop.

And waited some more.

At last, the lid could be opened.

Everyone held their breath.

Yu Ilhan cautiously lifted the lid.

More steam billowed out.

The world went white for a moment.

They waited for the steam to clear.

The first can appeared.

It was perfect.

No dents anywhere.

The lid wasn’t bulging, either.

…It was a success.

“It’s a success!”

Yu Ilhan shouted, nearly in tears.

A cheer erupted among the Employees.

Applause broke out.

Walter Smith patted Lee Jun-hyuk on the shoulder.

“Congratulations, Boss!”

Lee Jun-hyuk carefully took out the first can.

It was hot.

Almost burned his hand.

He put on gloves and picked it up again.

“Let’s open one.”

Yu Ilhan brought the Can Opener.

Everyone gathered around.

You could hear a pin drop.

Sssht.

As the can opened, the aroma burst out.

Savory.

Rich.

And a subtle, lingering umami…

“Chopsticks, please.”

With trembling hands, Lee Jun-hyuk picked up a bean sprout.

He put it in his mouth.

Crunch.

A satisfying sound.

Perfect.

Even though it was canned, the crisp texture was alive.

The seasoning was just right.

Neither too salty nor too bland.

The MSG’s umami gently wrapped around his tongue.

“This…”

Lee Jun-hyuk couldn’t finish his sentence.

His throat tightened.

“Is this really canned food?”

One Employee asked in surprise.

“I’ve made canned goods for thirty years, and I’ve never tasted anything this crisp!”

Everyone tried a taste.

Exclamations broke out.

“Wow, incredible!”

“This is truly… revolutionary!”

“The seasoning is perfect too!”

Tears welled up in Yu Ilhan’s eyes.

He turned his head and quietly wiped them away.

Noon was approaching.

All 500 cans of the first batch were finished.

The silver cans, lined up neatly on the workbench, bore the proud ‘RACHOI’ label.

“We did it.”

Yu Ilhan said in a trembling voice.

“Really… we did it.”