I cracked the Golden Hen's Eggs into a bowl and whisked them thoroughly. I had already seasoned the beef with salt and pepper while the stew was going, so now it was just a matter of execution. In Japan, you'd call this a "Katsu," but a proper Schnitzel isn't deep-fried in a vat of oil. It's pan-fried in lard—or a small amount of oil—until it's golden and crisp.
In the authentic style, you don't usually use a heavy sauce; you rely on the deep seasoning and the flavor of the beef itself. That's how I planned to finish it today.
"This looks about right."
I might not make Schnitzel every day, but I was more than used to pounding meat thin. Back in the Tokyo Arcology, real meat was a rare treasure. When you got your hands on some, you pounded it with a hammer or a rolling pin until it was paper-thin to make it go further. I started with a rolling pin to stretch it out, then switched to a meat mallet to even it out.
It's a delicate balance—too thin and it falls apart; too thick and it won't cook right in the shallow oil. The key to a good Schnitzel is that thinness.
"The breadcrumbs are ready, too."
Unlike the coarse panko used in Japan, authentic Schnitzel requires fine, sand-like crumbs. Yggdrasil didn't have an item for that, so I ran some bread through the mixer until it was pulverized, then finished it with a mortar and pestle. It might seem like overkill, but I was cooking for Pandora's Actor—a man whose entire aesthetic was built on German military culture and language. I wanted to get as close to the real thing as my knowledge allowed.
"Dredge it in the egg, then the crumbs."
I lightly floured the massive sheet of beef, shaking off the excess. Then came the egg wash and the crumbs. I added a little personal touch: I mixed finely grated cheese into the breadcrumbs. It wasn't strictly traditional, but it ensured a crispier finish and added a layer of rich umami. Sticking to the textbook is fine, but a chef's true skill shows in the subtle adjustments.
"Alright, let's finish this."
I added the lard to the pan. As it heated up, it began to pop and sizzle aggressively.
"Hot, hot, hot..."
I dropped a pinch of crumbs into the liquid fat. They floated and sizzled immediately.
"Perfect temperature."
I slid the meat into the pan.
"There's nothing like this sound."
The rhythmic crackling and the savory aroma filling the kitchen... that's the soul of frying.
"Master Kawasaki, may I ask a question?"
Picky was busy sautéing carrots and frying potatoes. I didn't look away from the pan. "What is it, Picky?"
"Why use lard instead of vegetable oil? I'm using vegetable oil for the potatoes."
"Lard doesn't oxidize as easily as vegetable oil," I explained, shaking the pan rhythmically. "It gives the meat a deeper, richer flavor and a crunchier texture. Vegetable oil isn't bad, but for meat like this, lard is king."
I kept the Schnitzel moving. Because the meat is so thin, flipping it too much ruins the shape. By shaking the pan, the meat stays "floating" on the oil, ensuring it cooks evenly on all sides.
"Use vegetable oil for tempura or fish," I added. "A chef has to be flexible. Always think about the person eating the food. If they have a specific memory of a dish, you work to get as close to that memory as possible. You'll never truly beat a person's 'memory' of a meal—especially their mother's cooking—but that doesn't mean you stop trying."
The crust had turned a beautiful golden-brown. I flipped it once, carefully, and finished the other side.
"Picky, get the drink ready."
"Understood. Which one should I pour?"
"Löwenbräu."
A classic German beer—malt, water, hops, and yeast. No additives. Nazarick had an incredible database of historical beverages. Picky actually ran a bar in the Tomb, so he knew his stuff.
"Löwenbräu has that strong bitterness and refreshing carbonation, but the malty finish makes it go down easy despite the 5% alcohol. It's the perfect match for the fat in the Schnitzel."
I pulled the meat from the pan, blotted the excess oil with paper, and plated it next to Picky's carrots and fries. I left it whole—the traditional way—and topped it with a fresh lemon wedge.
"Go, Picky. Remember: beer first."
As he left, I took a breath. Only Albedo and Momonga remained. I slapped my cheeks to stay focused.
"Still a long way to go."
***
Picky pushed the cart toward Pandora's Actor. Before the cloche was even lifted, a cold, condensation-covered mug of golden beer was placed on the table.
"Thank you for waiting, Pandora's Actor. Please, enjoy this before the main course."
"Oh! The mug is perfectly chilled! Truly magnificent! Picky, what is the vintage?"
The Actor gripped the mug, his theatrical energy vibrating as he fought the urge to chug it instantly.
"It is Löwenbräu," Picky explained. "A German beer known for its distinct bitterness and a rich, malty body that follows the initial carbonation."
"I see! Lord Ainz, I shall take the first sip!"
"Go ahead," Momonga replied. He was still in his human form, looking slightly amused.
"Nn... Ngg... Hah! This is the one! This is it!"
The beer wasn't ice-cold, but just chilled enough to let the flavor shine. The bitterness cut through his palate, followed by that refreshing malty depth.
"Pandora's Actor," Ainz mused, watching him. "Is that Löwenbräu truly that good?"
"Without a doubt, my Lord! I recommend it with absolute confidence!"
Ainz thought for a moment. "Picky... I'll have one as well. A small glass will suffice."
Pandora's Actor grinned. "And another for me! A large mug this time!"
As Picky went for the refills, Pandora's Actor looked at the cloche. If the beer was Löwenbräu, the food had to be a heavy, fried dish.
"Pandora's Actor... are there really that many kinds of German beer?" Albedo asked.
"Over twenty major varieties! From light to dark, bitter to sweet. But be careful, my Lord! Löwenbräu goes down so easily you might find yourself under the table before you know it!"
Ainz nodded solemnly. "I shall heed your warning."
Picky returned with the drinks and finally lifted the cloche for Pandora's Actor.
"Ah! I knew it! Wiener Schnitzel!"
A massive, thin cutlet sat on the plate, flanked by fries and carrots. No sauce—pure German style.
"Wait to use the lemon," Picky advised.
"I know, I know. I'm not a novice!"
The Actor took a knife and fork. The meat was so tender it barely offered resistance. He took a large bite. Crunch. The sound was crisp and sharp. Beneath the breading, the meat was incredibly succulent—likely Raging Bull. The seasoning was bold, but then he tasted a hidden layer.
Is that... cheese?
The grated cheese in the crust amplified the beef's umami to an almost overwhelming degree. He immediately reached for his beer to wash it down.
"Nn... HAAH! This is it! A taste of the heavens!"
The heavy savor of the Schnitzel and the refreshing bite of the beer became one. He ate with gusto, even using his hands for the fries. Then, he squeezed the lemon over the remaining half. The acidity brightened the entire dish, reigniting his appetite.
As Shiho came to refill his beer, the Actor leaned in and whispered:
"Tell the chef... I am an Actor, and I shall dance upon his stage."
Shiho stiffened, but the Actor just winked. He knew. This wasn't the work of the NPCs. This was Master Kawasaki. And the humanization of Lord Ainz? Only Kawasaki could pull that off without the ring.
I see your play, Master Kawasaki, he thought, taking another long pull of beer. You want him to remember being Momonga. You want him to be happy. Well then... I shall play my part to perfection.
***
Back in the kitchen, I listened to Shiho's report.
"He said he'll 'dance on my stage,' huh?" I chuckled, pounding a chicken breast thin. "As long as he doesn't blow my cover, it's fine. Go take him his refill."
If he was willing to cooperate, I wasn't going to complain. I turned my attention to Albedo's dish. Crystal Chicken—Suijingji. It sounds fancy, but it's a relatively simple dish, even in the real world. However, the soul of this dish isn't in the meat; it's in the sauces.
"Salt, pepper, and a tablespoon of sake."
I sliced the chicken into thin strips, placed them in a bag with the seasoning, and massaged it in. While it marinated for ten minutes, I began preparing the five dipping sauces. I knew it might seem "light" for a banquet, so I was going all out on the variety.
Classic Ponzu: Soy sauce, vinegar, mirin, and a dashi made from bonito flakes.
Ume-Shiso: Minced pickled plum with dashi. (I tasted it—sour!—perfect for cutting through the other flavors).
Chinese Aromatics: Finely minced scallions, ginger, and a tiny bit of garlic (keeping Albedo's breath in mind), mixed with sesame oil and soy sauce.
Aurora Sauce: A creamy blend of mayo and ketchup.
Spicy Gochujang: A kick of chili paste, sesame oil, and sugar.
"I hope this isn't too simple for her..."
I felt a bit guilty. Compared to the Kue pot and the Raging Bull, chicken felt a bit modest.
"Sorry, Albedo. I'll make you a massive beef bowl next time Momonga isn't looking."
I dredged the chicken in potato starch and dropped the pieces into boiling water. They floated to the surface, coated in a shimmering, translucent layer that looked like polished crystal. I immediately plunged them into ice water to set the texture. I plated them on a glass dish over a bed of fresh greens.
***
Albedo watched Shiho approach with the cloche. She was nervous. Aura and Mare had received their favorites... would she be served a common bowl of beef? She didn't want to look unrefined in front of Lord Ainz.
"For Lady Albedo: Crystal Chicken."
The cloche was lifted. Albedo let out a breath of relief. It was beautiful. The chicken looked like it was draped in silk, resting in a ballroom of vibrant vegetables.
"It's lovely."
"Please enjoy it with these five sauces," Shiho explained.
Albedo took a piece without sauce first. It was cold, and the coating had a delightful, springy texture. It was already seasoned perfectly. Then she tried the Ponzu. The acidity sharpened the flavor. Then the Ume...
"!" Her eyes snapped wide. The sourness was intense. She quickly took a sip of wine.
"Albedo?! Are you alright?" Ainz asked.
"I-I'm fine! Just a bit of a surprise!"
She moved on to the Spicy Gochujang. It was her favorite—a slow heat that didn't linger too long, making her want more.
"It's so simple, yet so deep..." she whispered.
But just as she was finishing, she felt that familiar pang. It was delicious, but it wasn't filling.
Shiho returned with a second, smaller dish.
"A second course: Crystal Chicken Yukhoe Bowl."
It was a small portion of rice topped with the chicken, a raw egg yolk, and the spicy sauce.
"Mix the yolk with the rice and enjoy."
Albedo dug in with a wooden spoon. The richness of the yolk and the bite of the sauce over the warm rice was exactly what she had been craving. It was a "meat bowl" disguised as a gourmet course. She looked at Ainz, her heart fluttering.
Finally, Shiho and Picky pushed the final cart toward the head of the table.
"Lord Ainz. We have prepared the most delicious thing in the world for you."
The cloche was lifted. Ainz froze.
"This... this is..."
Next — Menu 9: The Most Delicious Meal in the World for Momonga
***
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