Chapter 108: The Sweetness of First Love, the True Face of Youth
Famous people are photographed and stared at wherever they go. It is the tax they pay for their brilliance, the burden of being a star in a mundane world. Besides celebrities, there are other things in this world that possess this magnetic quality—things that can pull a soul with an invisible thread, arresting attention and silencing a room.
Vibrant flowers blooming in a desolate winter. Rare treasures glimmering under museum lights.
And, of course, delicious, fragrant dishes prepared with masterful skill.
The dishes on the dining cart Ren was pushing at this moment were of that caliber.
The wheels of the wooden cart rolled silently over the polished floorboards, but the approach felt heavy with anticipation. To the three high school girls sitting at the counter—Nanami Minami, Hinami Aoi, and Yoshikawa Yuki—the cart wasn't just carrying food; it was carrying salvation. Their stomachs, empty and protesting after a long night and a hurried morning, roared in silent unison.
Ren stopped the cart. The air around him seemed to shimmer with heat and aroma. He smiled, his expression a blend of gentle hospitality and the confident pride of a craftsman.
"First, for Minami," Ren announced, his voice cutting through the tension. "Braised Chicken with Yellow Sauce (Huang Men Ji)."
He placed a black clay pot onto the wooden trivet in front of Nanami Minami. The pot was hot, radiating a warmth that she could feel on her face.
Minami swallowed hard, her throat dry. She reached out with trembling hands and lifted the heavy ceramic lid.
Whoosh.
It was like releasing a genie.
A pillar of white steam billowed out, mushrooming into the air and engulfing her senses. It wasn't just steam; it was a concentrated blast of savory essence. The aroma hit her face like a boxer's iron fist—powerful, direct, and utterly overwhelming. It caught her off guard, making her gasp audibly.
"Oh..." Minami whispered, her eyes widening until they reflected the bubbling contents of the pot.
Inside, the dish was alive. The thick, amber-colored sauce was still bubbling fiercely—gloop, gloop—releasing bursts of fragrance with every pop.
If beef, when cooked, offers a sense of domineering power from its marble-like texture and heavy fat, and pork, when cooked, provides a smooth, rich unctuousness, then chicken... chicken presents a unique texture that is the perfect middle ground. It is tender. It is smooth. It is the comfort of home elevated to high art.
Only poultry possesses this specific quality. Even just looking at it, without tasting, one could see the mastery. The chicken pieces were cut uniformly, coated in the glossy, dark sauce. The skin had contracted slightly from the heat, revealing the smooth, tender white meat beneath. There were no rough fibers, no dryness. It looked slippery, juicy, and incredibly soft.
The color palette was a work of art. The deep, mahogany brown of the sauce was the canvas. Against it, the vibrant green of the bell peppers, the fiery red of the chili slices, and the translucent, jade-like onions created a stunning mosaic. Dark, earthy shiitake mushrooms hid in the depths like buried treasure, having soaked up the essence of the meat.
Braised Chicken with Yellow Sauce is a dish that relies on three "Absolutes" (Three Excellences) to be considered authentic.
First, the soup. It must be reddish-bright, sticky with collagen, rich in flavor, thick enough to coat a spoon, and oily but not greasy. It must have a lingering aftertaste that stays on the palate.
Second, the meat. It must be beautifully presented, glistening with glaze, and tender enough to fall off the bone with a mere nudge of the chopsticks.
Third, the rice. It is the foundation. It must be fragrant, firm, and chewy, capable of absorbing the sauce without turning into mush.
Ren's dish perfectly embodied these three points.
He placed a bowl of steaming white rice next to the clay pot. The rice was sprinkled with black sesame seeds, their nutty aroma activated by the heat of the grains. It was a stark, beautiful contrast to the dark, rich stew.
Ren looked at Hinami Aoi and Yoshikawa Yuki. They were staring at Minami's dish with eyes that were practically green with envy. They looked like hungry wolves watching a pack leader eat.
He smiled, breaking their trance. "Don't worry, ladies. The wait is over."
He turned to the cart.
"Next is Ms. Hinami Aoi's Creamy Stew with Fresh Vegetables and Chicken," Ren announced, placing a pristine white ceramic pot in front of the elegant girl.
Then, he turned to the third girl.
"And for Ms. Yoshikawa Yuki... the Kimchi Cheese Tteokbokki you requested as a side, and your main course, the Pork Rib Ramen. All the dishes are served. Please enjoy."
The counter was now full. The symphony of aromas—savory soy, rich cream, spicy kimchi, and hearty pork broth—filled the small restaurant, chasing away the last remnants of the morning chill.
Hinami Aoi didn't move immediately. She stared at her food.
She looked at the white pot before her. Inside, colorful vegetables—carrots cut into flower shapes, bright green broccoli, pale potatoes—and diced chicken were enjoying a creamy bath in the milky broth. It looked soothing. It looked elegant. It looked rich.
Then her gaze shifted to the side dish—the orange-red, sweet and spicy, slightly kimchi-scented Tteokbokki. The melted cheese on top was bubbling, browned slightly at the edges.
Aoi clutched her spoon. She had only one thought in her mind: This place... was the right choice! My diet is officially cancelled!
She started with the stew.
The creamy white broth was slightly viscous, clinging to the spoon. It was full of the enticing aroma of milk, butter, and chicken stock.
She took a sip.
The sensation was velvety. The smooth richness of the cream coated her tongue instantly. Then came the flavors—the sweetness of the onions that had been sautéed until they dissolved, the earthiness of the potatoes, and the savory depth of the chicken.
"Mmm..." Aoi closed her eyes, letting out a soft moan of delight.
It was tender. It was fragrant.
One bite brought the creamy aroma of cheese (which Ren had secretly added to the roux for depth), the smooth richness of the cream, the soft yet refreshing texture of the stir-fried vegetables, and the smooth, tender elasticity of the diced chicken.
There was nothing else to say. Just one word: Rich! Two words: Richly Fragrant!
This wafting milky aroma was like a well-maintained jade hand plucking gently at her heartstrings. It was sophisticated yet primal. If this dish were a lady, she would be an elegant, noble, and exquisitely beautiful noblewoman attending a ball in a white silk gown.
After one sip, Hinami Aoi was completely unstoppable. Her spoon moved rhythmically, continuously scooping up the broth. She didn't care what vegetables emerged with the creamy white liquid, nor did she inspect the tender chicken soaking in the spoon. She just ate.
She only knew one truth: this dish was delicious enough, satisfying enough. That was all that mattered. Every bite was a delightful surprise, a warm hug for her empty stomach.
Unlike the mellow, soothing richness on Aoi's side, Nanami Minami's experience was much more intense. It was a battlefield of flavor.
Although both were hot dishes served in pots, Braised Chicken with Yellow Sauce was aggressive. It didn't ask for permission; it conquered the palate.
The depth of flavor was staggering. The saltiness of the soy sauce, the sweetness of the rock sugar, the heat of the peppers—it was exhilarating!
Minami picked up a piece of chicken with her chopsticks.
The smooth sensation from the meat was irreplaceable. As the chopsticks squeezed the piece, the chicken skin slightly trembled, glistening with oil. Occasionally, the dark skin would pull back, revealing the tender, white chicken meat beneath—an inherent method of attracting diners, a visual promise of juiciness.
She put it in her mouth.
Chew.
The meat fell apart. The sauce exploded. It was savory, sweet, and carried the distinct umami of the shiitake mushrooms.
"Haa..." Minami exhaled a hot breath, fanning her mouth. It was hot, but she couldn't stop.
She scooped a spoonful of the thick, dark broth—which had absorbed all the essences of the chicken, mushrooms, and spices—and poured it onto her rice.
Drip. Drip. Flow.
The dark sauce seeped into the pristine white grains, dyeing them a beautiful amber brown. The steam rising from the rice carried the new aroma upwards.
The moment the broth seeped in, the value of this bowl of rice was elevated from a side dish to a main event. Using the spicy, smooth chicken to accompany the rice that had absorbed its flavors—there was no better pairing in the culinary world.
The superposition of flavors often means more than just one plus one. It becomes infinity.
The rice itself was no simple character. Ren used high-quality Koshihikari rice. The grains were distinct, plump, and chewy. Now, as "twice-oiled" rice (coated in the natural oils of the rice and the savory oil of the sauce), it was irresistible.
Minami shoveled a mouthful of the sauce-soaked rice and a piece of shiitake mushroom into her mouth.
The mushroom was like a sponge. It had soaked up the broth until it was heavy. When she bit down, it burst, releasing a flood of savory juice that mingled with the sweetness of the rice.
"Delicious! It's so delicious!" Minami cried out, not caring about her image.
Nearby, a tragedy was unfolding.
Cerberus, the three-headed Hellhound, was sitting at a small side table. Her hands were resting on her knees. Her back was straight.
She was watching the girls eat.
Her crimson eyes were wide and unblinking. Her pupils were dilated. She watched Minami eat the chicken. She watched Aoi eat the stew. She watched Yuki blow on her ramen.
Her nose twitched constantly, assaulting her brain with the delicious scents she couldn't touch.
To make a dog—especially a gluttonous Hellhound—stare at others eating meat without giving her any... that is somewhat cruel. It is a violation of the Geneva Convention for Canines.
Ren, who was wiping the counter, noticed her pitiful state. He saw the way her tail (which she had manifested in her excitement) had stopped wagging and was now drooping sadly on the floor.
He chuckled softly. "Alright, alright. I can't have you dying of envy."
He walked into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a small plate.
"Cerberus~. Have some of this first while waiting for the main dish."
Cerberus looked up. Her eyes snapped to the plate.
"What is this?" she asked, her voice trembling with hope.
On the plate sat five round, brown spheres, glistening with a dark gravy. A small dollop of lingonberry jam sat on the side.
"Meatballs," Ren said. "Swedish Meatballs. They are small, but packed with flavor. You should like them"
Cerberus didn't ask what "Swedish" meant. She only heard "Meat."
"Meatballs! Meatballs! You should like them!" she repeated, her tail starting to thump against the chair leg again. "Everything Ren makes is delicious!"
She didn't hesitate. She didn't even use a fork. She grabbed a meatball with her fingers and popped it into her mouth.
Chomp.
The meatball was dense but tender. It was a mix of beef and pork, seasoned with nutmeg and allspice. The gravy was rich and creamy.
"Mmm!" Cerberus beamed, her cheeks bulging. "Good!"
Ren smiled, patted her head, and then returned to the kitchen to continue preparing their actual breakfast.
With food in her belly, Cerberus's mood improved instantly. She shifted her attention to her own plate, ignoring the humans. After one meatball, she couldn't stop. One bite after another.
At the same table, Lucifer sat elegantly. She was scrolling through her phone with one hand, her silver hair cascading over her shoulder. Occasionally, she would reach out with a fork, stab a meatball from Cerberus's plate (ignoring the dog's low growl), and eat it with grace.
It was unclear what she was watching that kept her so engrossed—perhaps a cooking tutorial to redeem her crepe failure, or maybe a drama about corporate takeovers—but at this moment, no one seemed to care. The peace was absolute.
"Hoo~ So delicious! I never thought onions could be this tasty!"
The exclamation broke the silence. It was Yoshikawa Yuki.
She was eating her Pork Rib Ramen, but her eyes were fixed on the side dish she was sharing with Aoi—the Tteokbokki.
Nanami Minami and Hinami Aoi both nodded in agreement, saying nothing as they were too busy eating their own dishes.
Hinami Aoi, who already loved cheese, couldn't stop eating the cheesy Tteokbokki. The dish itself wasn't very large—it was a side portion—but it was rich. Drinking the soup was faster than eating the solids.
She licked her lips, looking at the steaming, fragrant Kimchi Cheese Tteokbokki.
As mentioned before, eating a smooth flavor first (the creamy stew) and then a stimulating one (the spicy rice cakes) would lead to a more intense taste experience. It was about contrast.
The orange-red cheese Tteokbokki looked incredibly tempting. The rice cakes were cylindrical, submerged in a thick, fiery red sauce made of gochujang and chili flakes. A blanket of melted mozzarella cheese covered the top, bubbling and browning in spots.
Aoi picked one up with her chopsticks.
Stretch.
The cheese clung to the rice cake, stretching long and thin, refusing to let go. It was a bridge of dairy connecting the bowl to her chopsticks.
She blew on it, then took a bite.
Chew.
The first sensation was the texture. The rice cake was chewy—mochi-mochi. It offered resistance to the teeth, a satisfying bounce.
Then came the flavor.
The sweet and spicy flavor of the gochujang hit first, aggressive and bold. Then came the unique, fermented sourness of the kimchi hidden in the sauce. Then, the salty, creamy sweetness of the cheese wrapped around everything, mellowing the spice.
One bite, and the entire person would be awakened by this dish. It was loud. It was fun.
The bursting cheese glided between the teeth. The spiciness carried a hint of sweetness, much like the sweet little moments of first love. It was exciting, a little painful, but ultimately addictive.
A captivating flavor. An irresistible texture.
Truly, it was the sweetness of first love that one can't bear to let go of.
The flavorful, vibrant skin of the rice cake and the soft, white interior—this is the shyness of first love, the lingering sweetness, and the very essence of teenage youth...
[Akarin's Note: Braised Chicken with Yellow Sauce (Huang Men Ji) is a famous Chinese dish consisting of braised chicken, shiitake mushrooms, and peppers. Tteokbokki is a popular Korean street food made of stir-fried rice cakes, often spicy.]
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