"Delicious! What is this, delicious!"
At those words from Rei, Bistol broke into a radiant smile.
"Hehe, how is it? My specially made seafood soup, packed full of love."
"Bistol's love or whatever doesn't matter, but this seafood soup is seriously delicious."
Just as the name suggested, the soup's ingredients were primarily seafood—the very creatures Rei and the others had caught that day.
Not just fish, but plenty of shellfish as well, their rich broth adding depth and umami to the soup.
What surprised Rei more than anything was the sheer amount of what could only be abalone packed into it.
Back in Japan, a single abalone at a supermarket could easily run over a thousand yen. Yet here they were, stuffed into the pot in massive quantities.
And it wasn't just abalone, either. There were shellfish resembling turban shells, others that looked like the mussels he'd seen on TV, and still more varieties he had never laid eyes on before.
Naturally, the pot held more than shellfish. Generous amounts of fish, shrimp, and squid shared the space with edible wild herbs and greens foraged from around the hot spring they were using as a base. The enormous pot was filled to the brim with a hearty seafood soup.
...Or rather, it had been. But its contents were rapidly vanishing as Rei, Byune, and the rest of the group devoured it.
"Anyone who drinks this soup will be corrupted. Let's name it the Seafood Soup of Corruption."
"Umm, Marina? I think that's a bit of an exaggeration..."
Bistol looked bewildered by the name Marina had just bestowed upon his dish.
Since cooking was a genuine hobby of his, having someone enjoy his food that much was gratifying. It was gratifying, yes—but that didn't mean he wanted it saddled with a name like "Seafood Soup of Corruption" if he could help it.
"No, I think a name like that is perfectly fitting. The concentrated seafood essence pairs beautifully with bread."
Elena sided with Marina on the name, and Vihera appeared to have no objections either, nodding in agreement between bites.
The Seafood Soup of Corruption was technically a soup, but with so many ingredients packed in, it had more than enough flavor and substance to pass for a main course. Which was exactly why tonight's dinner consisted solely of Bistol's creation and bread.
A meal of just soup and bread might sound meager. But for Rei and the others actually eating it, it was more than satisfying.
"Hehe, I'm so glad you're all enjoying it. My cooking is made with plenty of love, after all."
Had one ignored his appearance, Bistol's joyful demeanor could genuinely have been described as maternal. Given his brawny, muscular physique, however, "maternal" was decidedly not the word that came to mind.
"This would be delicious with udon too."
"True. But since we went to the trouble of making the Seafood Soup of Corruption, I think thinner udon would be better so the noodles can really soak up the broth."
"Somen-style noodles, huh."
"...Somen?"
Just as with sashimi, the mere mention of somen during his conversation with Marina drew everyone's eyes to Rei.
He understood immediately what explanation was expected of him.
"To put it simply, it's a much thinner version of the udon you'd find in Gilm."
Strictly speaking, udon and somen were similar but distinct things. Rei, however, lacked detailed knowledge on the subject. His working understanding was simply that somen was a thinner version of udon.
"Come to think of it, even among the udon served in Gilm, the thickness varies quite a bit depending on the shop or stall."
At the mention of thin udon, Vihera murmured this observation. And she wasn't wrong.
Some shops served thick, Sanuki-style udon, while others offered thin, slightly flat noodles reminiscent of Inaniwa udon. Each shop had settled on its preferred thickness through trial and error, tailoring it to complement their particular dishes. The ideal thickness changed depending on whether the broth was rich or light, and on what ingredients it contained.
"For now, it would've been nice to have some thin udon prepared."
Even as he said this, Rei found himself thinking that what would truly pair well with the Seafood Soup of Corruption wasn't udon at all, but ramen.
Of course, since he had no idea how to make ramen noodles in the first place, he had no intention of saying so and stirring up unnecessary trouble.
(They use eggs, right? Other than that, flour, water, and salt? No, there's no point thinking about that now.)
Rei quickly banished thoughts of ramen noodles—so-called Chinese-style noodles—from his mind and returned to savoring the seafood soup.
With the meal finished, the evening became free time.
Bistol, meanwhile, set about filleting fish, soaking them in salt water, and preparing overnight-dried fish for preservation.
His Magic Pouch could hold a great deal, but unlike the Misty Ring, time didn't stop inside it. Any fish he stored needed to be preserved rather than left raw.
"Guruu."
"Kyu!"
Whether drawn by the sight of Bistol filleting fish or simply stimulated by the scent, Set and Ielo were watching him intently. Set lay belly-down on the ground with Ielo sprawled belly-down on top of his head—a scene that would have left anyone like Mirene, Yohanna, or the devoted Set fans among Sura's group absolutely shell-shocked.
"Hehe, here, have some. But no snacking, understand?"
Amused by the pair, Bistol tossed them small fish too insignificant to sell even as dried goods. Set and Ielo caught them midair with perfect precision and began eating eagerly.
As for why Bistol had set aside such small, unsellable fish in the first place—it was simply because he was making his own personal stash of overnight-dried fish.
What couldn't be sold was perfectly fine for personal consumption. As a snack to go with drinks, homemade dried fish carried the satisfaction of having made it yourself, making it the finest treat imaginable. And since he was already preparing such a large batch, making a little extra for himself barely added any effort.
A short distance away, Rei was wracking his brain trying to recall how to make fish sauce—shottsuru.
Unfortunately, the cooking manga he relied on didn't contain a method for making fish sauce either—or if it had, he'd long forgotten it. All he had to go on was something he'd half-remembered from a news segment.
(Soak fish in salt? No, was it soaked? Then maybe boil it in salt water? That doesn't sound right either. Soy sauce is a fermented food, so... ferment salted fish? That sounds like it'd produce something absolutely wild. I guess my only option is to search nearby fishing villages or port towns rather than making it myself?)
Of course, whether fishing villages or port towns even had fish sauce was something he'd only know by actually going there. If anything, the odds were higher that it didn't exist at all.
In that case, he'd need to search elsewhere for fish sauce—and as a last resort, make it himself.
(Should I just give up on fish sauce? But man... shottsuru nabe is so good. Well, there are vegetables similar to long green onions, but there's no tofu, and nothing quite like hatahata, so it'd end up being a makeshift version.)
Knowing how to make regular soy sauce would have been ideal, but unfortunately, that was even more of a mystery to him than fish sauce. Soy sauce had simply been something that sat on the dining table back in Japan. He'd never had the faintest idea how it was actually made.
And so he'd attempted fish sauce instead, armed with only a hazy recollection of the process...
(At worst, I could just leave it to Gimekara.)
Recalling how he'd taught Gimekara to make natto, Rei half-seriously considered washing his hands of the matter.
It was a hassle, certainly. But if fish sauce could actually be produced, it would undeniably become a viable business.
For all he knew, fish sauce might already exist here in Elgin—or even in the Kingdom of Mireana—without his knowledge.
(It has a fairly strong flavor, but it doesn't divide people's preferences as much as natto does... at least I think so. From a business standpoint, it shouldn't be bad.)
Having reasoned that far, a thought suddenly struck him.
"So in the end, we still can't eat sashimi right away, huh."
"Hm? What's wrong? You seemed to be deep in thought, and then—"
Vihera, who had been maintaining her Hand Gauntlets nearby, looked over questioningly.
Rei just shook his head. "It's nothing. I was just thinking that even if we want to eat sashimi, we don't have any condiments for it."
"Ah, the raw fish... Every dish you know sounds delicious, Rei, but raw fish is still..."
Vihera trusted Rei completely. But the raw fish aspect clearly still bothered her, and a faintly regretful expression crossed her face.
Since Rei was the one recommending it, it was undoubtedly delicious—she understood that perfectly well. Even so, the common sense she'd lived by her entire life wasn't something she could simply cast aside on a whim. That was why she found it disappointing.
"I'm not going to force you, so don't worry about it. Honestly, from what I hear, there are people who can't handle sashimi either."
Not everyone in Japan loved sashimi. There were Japanese people who couldn't stand it, just as there were foreigners who adored it. That was probably true of any dish.
But even hearing that, Vihera couldn't entirely mask her disappointment.
Noticing her expression, Rei spoke up as though a thought had just occurred to him.
"Even if sashimi is out, you'd probably be fine with shabu-shabu, right?"
"Shabu-shabu? Is that odd name also a dish?"
"Well, I won't deny the name's a little unusual."
Compared to dish names like "roast of such-and-such," it was hardly surprising that "shabu-shabu" struck people as strange. With that in mind, Rei launched into an explanation.
Shabu-shabu wasn't a particularly complicated dish. Of course, if one were to get truly meticulous about it, considerable skill would be required—but as something amateurs could throw together casually, it wasn't especially difficult.
You placed kelp in a pot to make broth, briefly dipped thin slices of fish into it, then dipped them in a seasoning sauce before eating.
(The real question is what to use for the seasoning sauce. With meat, sesame dressing is delicious, but for seafood shabu-shabu, ponzu is the best. ...And we don't have soy sauce. Well, at worst we could just dip it in the broth from Bistol's Seafood Soup of Corruption...)
Actually, if they used the seafood soup as the shabu-shabu broth, they might not need any separate seasoning at all.
Whether that could properly be called "shabu-shabu," Rei wasn't entirely sure. But the point was that Vihera and the others who were disappointed about sashimi would almost certainly be able to eat fish if it was cooked even slightly. Rei personally preferred his about half-done—or thirty percent cooked, really—but the beauty of shabu-shabu was that each person could cook their fish to their own liking.
And from there, little by little... truly little by little... they could get used to the idea of eating raw fish.
Fortunately, there was still plenty of the Seafood Soup of Corruption that Bistol had made earlier left over. If so, using it for shabu-shabu shouldn't be a problem at all.
"So that's the plan. Tomorrow night, we'll be having seafood shabu-shabu, so rest easy."
"Rest easy? Well... I do have to admit it sounds pretty delicious."
Having heard the explanation, Vihera understood that a dish as described would undoubtedly be delicious. She offered her reply with a small smile—genuinely pleased that Rei was thinking of the group and preparing yet another new dish for them.