Sihoo’s notebook read like a sketch, meticulously detailing observations and ideas.
[Lacquered utensils and bowls used throughout -> research lightweight lacquered (bangjja) options.
Appetizer: jook -> adjust for a universal taste across ages?
Soup: customize based on customer’s condition?]
The notes brimmed with care for diners, reflecting Sihoo’s thoughtful approach.
This student’s mindset and passion for Korean cuisine stand out. He’s reimagining the surasang to be approachable, analyzing every detail, Yoon Sukhee thought, nodding slightly.
Sihoo glanced at her, wondering, Should I not have shown it?
Unaware of his thoughts, Yoon Sukhee mentally elevated her assessment of him. His palate and talent have sharpened since high school.
She recalled a student at a cooking competition, moving with clean precision, organizing flawlessly, and highlighting ingredients’ essence. That student was the Sihoo before her.
Thud.
Returning the notebook, she said, “Well-organized notes. Your evaluation of the surasang’s flavors was particularly impressive.”
Sihoo’s cheeks burned. Being praised by a renowned Korean cuisine master was rare, and he felt a pang of regret for not organizing his notes more clearly.
Yoon Sukhee, noticing his flush, revisited her earlier question. “Think deeply about why you felt my culinary philosophy in the surasang. You said you weren’t sure earlier. If you find an answer later, come back to me.”
“Really?” Sihoo’s eyes widened. Meeting a master like her wasn’t easy.
Her kind smile met his shocked expression. He felt as if he’d been given a homework assignment.
“And the menu ideas in your notebook… they’re promising,” she added.
Sihoo bowed, eyes blinking with gratitude. She’s praising me? And saying it’s promising? Yoon Sukhee rarely gave compliments, even at competitions, leaving him stunned.
“Enjoy the dessert,” she said, rising gracefully.
Sihoo gazed at the tray—sujeonggwa, persimmons, pears, and yakgwa. The sujeonggwa’s aroma teased his nose, with vibrant orange persimmons and white pear slices arranged elegantly, a wooden pick shaped like a hairpin beside them. The dessert tray radiated care.
“Thank you, Master,” Sihoo and Hayoon said, bowing respectfully as she left.
A week after meeting Yoon Sukhee, on 56804’s regular day off, Sihoo asked Hayoon to taste his new Korean menu at home, dubbed the “56804 Korean Edition”—a fusion of diner and Korean cuisine.
“Sihoo, I’m starving!” Hayoon called from behind, playfully tapping chopsticks on the table.
“Just a sec, almost done,” Sihoo replied, unfazed, preparing a simple Korean spread in the kitchen.
Thud.
He set a large square tray on the table. Hayoon’s eyes lit up. “Those are the lacquered bowls from Yoon Sukhee’s place!”
“Yeah, lacquered bowls have antibacterial properties, enhance flavor, and preserve nutrients,” Sihoo explained.
Hayoon nodded, muttering, “Must be heavy for serving.”
Sihoo understood—Hayoon often carried dishes to customers. “I’ll look into lighter bangjja lacquered ones.”
“Full set, even spoons?” Hayoon asked.
Sihoo nodded, offering the food. The tray held jook as an appetizer, braised pork ribs, japchae, warm noodles, pickled eggplant, leafy greens, kimchi, and a small pouch tied with green onion.
“What’s that?” Hayoon pointed at the pouch.
“Gujeolpan,” Sihoo said. “Remember how we wrapped ingredients at Yoon Sukhee’s? I recreated it.”
Hayoon’s eyes sparkled. “That looked labor-intensive, but you made it bite-sized?”
Steaming cod soup and white rice completed the spread. Slurp. Hayoon’s exclamation burst out. “This cod soup is perfect. Spot-on seasoning!”
“Try the rest, hyung,” Sihoo urged.
Hayoon eyed a golden-fried dish. “Tempura?”
Examining it, the crisp texture was palpable. He took a bite. Crunch. The briny sea flavor exploded, drawing a low groan. “Oysters? And shrimp next to it?”
“Yeah, I swapped steamed dishes for tempura—everyone loves it,” Sihoo said.
Hayoon picked up a green-tinted tempura. “This?”
“Aralia shoots.”
“Aralia? In this season?” Hayoon asked, surprised.
Sihoo froze. He’d found an aralia tree by the field’s greenhouse, picked young shoots, blanched them, and, after tasting them with gochujang, decided to fry them for the spread.
Crunch. Hayoon’s eyes widened. “This is really aralia. My favorite spring green!”
He was ecstatic, asking mid-bite, “Where do you get this stuff? Tell me, I’ll buy some for home.”
Crunch, crunch. Hayoon bit into another aralia tempura. “I could eat this for a month straight!”
Sihoo chuckled. “Hyung, you know aralia stems can be toxic?”
“Toxic?” Hayoon froze.
“The stems can cause food poisoning, but young shoots, blanched in saltwater, are fine,” Sihoo explained.
Hayoon stared at the tempura, then at Sihoo. “I’m okay, right?”
“What?”
“It’s toxic, you said!”
“Hyung, has your mom ever made you sick with greens?”
“No.”
“Then you’re fine.”
“But this tempura—”
Sihoo laughed. “I used only young leaves, cleaned and fried. I tasted it too—no problem.”
Hayoon sighed in relief, devouring the japchae and ribs, finishing with warm noodles. Slurp. He set down his spoon. “I’m stuffed!”
Sihoo offered a cinnamon aide and dried persimmon. “What’s this drink?” Hayoon asked.
“Cinnamon aide. I made a thick sujeonggwa base, mixed it with sparkling water. Tasted great.”
Hayoon sipped. Cinnamon, ginger, and jujube blended harmoniously, with a subtle sweetness enhanced by the soda’s fizz. “This is good!” he said. “Try it with the persimmon.”
Hayoon followed, alternating bites and sips. “The sweetness softens, but it might not suit everyone.”
Sihoo nodded, knowing cinnamon’s divisive flavor. “Maybe just persimmons and fruit for dessert?”
Hayoon agreed, then asked, “How’ll you price this? It’s so labor-intensive.”
Sihoo pondered. Over 80% of the ingredients came from the field, leaving only pork and seasonal seafood as costs, plus labor. “I’ll ask Kanghoon hyung.”
“Making this spread for him tomorrow?”
“Yeah. Want some, hyung?”
“Heck yeah!”
“I’ll make it at 56804 tomorrow.”
“Looks like a lot of work,” Hayoon said.
“It’s quick,” Sihoo replied.
Hayoon, curious, asked, “Is your house always this warm?”
Sihoo’s gaze flicked to the bedroom. Hayoon followed. “That’s your parents’ room?”
“Yeah.”
“Cleaned up nice?”
“Every day.”
Hayoon walked to the bedroom, peering inside. “This room feels like spring! So warm!”
He craned his neck, looking around. No basement entrance? Sihoo, watching him return, felt relieved.
“Is the boiler cranked up in there?” Hayoon asked.
Sihoo smiled awkwardly, nodding. “Better to heat the living room.”
“You didn’t see anything in there, hyung?”
“Just your parents’ furniture.”
Sihoo exhaled. Phew, didn’t see the basement.
Changing the subject, he asked, “Hyung, will customers like this Korean spread?”
“Want my honest take?”
Sihoo tensed. “Yes, please.”
Hayoon, seeing Sihoo’s eager eyes, grinned inwardly and gave two thumbs up. “100% a hit. Word of mouth will make it explode.”
Sihoo tilted his head. “Word of mouth?”