“Not like that you brat! I told ye not to knead the dough in a circular motion. Foldin’ and flattenin’s the way to do it!”
Kenneth commented angrily as he whacked me with a rolling pin, its shape, function, and even tendency to be used as a discipline weapon for children was uncannily similar to Earth. Maybe the scientists who suggested the theory about the collective unconscious were on to something.
“Ow, ow , ow!”
“Isn’t it functionally just the same thing no matter how I need it? It's not like you're making croissants with a thousand layers, the gluten should develop the same way no matter how you mix it!”
I replied while raising my hands in defense
“Kwasunts? Gluten? What the hell are you talkin’ about? Anyhow this old man’s been usin’ this recipe for this recipe since before you were born, and ye won’t be changin nothin now.”
“Alright alright fine i got it.”
It's been 2 weeks since Kenneth took me under his wing. Right after our little handshake, he led me right to his pride and joy.
Honestly I was a bit surprised. Given the dingy stalls I saw so far, I expected to see something of similar scale in his noodle shop, but when I saw it I understood how he could proudly call it his life’s legacy.
Of course given the place we were in, it was nothing fancy but it was still very respectable. It was composed of a small cooking station, with a counter in front of it, similar to the stall-type ramen shops of earth. Extra sets of tables of chairs were also present for the next 20 meters to the left and right of the stall, so he probably had a large enough customer base to warrant such a thing.
Then aside from that there was just a small living area composed of a table, a bed and some storage cabinets behind the stall. Seems he’s quite the minimalist
I can imagine just how much effort it took to make something like this. Starting from nothing and eventually getting a foothold for yourself after years of hard work.....
But seriously the nerve of this guy, disrespecting me and calling me a runt when I'm technically a senior of his, counting the years from my past life. Plus why is he being so strict, does he really expect a 7 year old to master all of this?
The moment we got here he draped a “closed” sign over the storefront and then started drilling his techniques to me ever since from sunrise to sunset, only stopping to eat and to take a break for a few hours in between. Thanks to that I haven’t had too much time to take a look at the journal and plan ahead at all. Come to think of it, I haven't been able to find time to work out either since I was thrown into that damn carriage months ago, no wonder it seemed my strength and endurance was off. It seems finding time for that is imperative as well.
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Well I guess he is keeping me dry and fed so I guess I can’t complain too much.
—-
—-
“How’s the taste?”
“Pretty good runt, honestly I was plannin to hole up in ‘ere for a few months or so in order to drill the recipe into ya and teach you how to cook in general.”
“But you surprised me damn well. Who knew that a kid like ye would already know most of the stuff I was gonna teach.”
“Well I guess aside from experience to help sharpen you up, there's probably nothin’ else this old man needs to teach ya. With that in mind, I’ll be reopenin’ startin’ tomorrow so get ready for non-stop cooking”
It's been exactly 3 weeks since he took me in and this time with him really reaffirmed what I observed during my time in the Ronwen estate. It seems the food and even method of cooking in this world is really similar to Earth.
Kenneth’s noodle dish for instance is really close to ramen, albeit with the pork bones and pork chashu being replaced with the bones and meat from whatever birds are available in the market.
Barring this major change, most of the ingredients, though of course having different names, had very similar flavor profiles to whatever their Earth condiment equivalent would’ve been.
Thanks to this, I was actually able to learn everything I needed to know about how to make the dish in just two days. The only reason it took weeks is because of the sheer number of illogical superstitions the old man forced me to memorize. Like placing only exactly 4 slabs of wood into the fire no matter their sizes to ensure a “good and even energy for boiling”, adding the soup to the bowl by the tablespoon in order to “layer flavors”, and many many more.
I’m honestly surprised I reached this point without losing my marbles.
At least the old man’s crazy training camp is done now, and with that I’ll probably be getting a bit more free time to myself.
—-
—-
The next day marked my first stint as an employee in probably 60 years and it was pretty taxing. The day started at sunrise where Kenneth and I probably spent around 2 hours pre-preparing everything from making the dough for the noodles and pre cutting them to cooking the broth and braised bird so that when an order came we’d just need to boil the noodles and assemble the bowl and we’d be all se to serve from there. Honestly we could have finished 30 minutes earlier if he didn’t insist on only starting the noodle cutting after the broth first starts boiling, but I guess at this point I should just get used to Old Man Kenneth's one thousand superstitions.
From there, we’d sell noodles until supplies last, usually until right before dinnertime. After that, we’d clean up for around an hour and then he’d let me do whatever I wanted.
During my free time on that day, I decided to seek the old man to learn whatever I could.
The small space of the shop aside, he also only really had one hobby so he was usually very easy to find during his downtime. As usual, he was sitting on the shop’s countertop, tending to his pots and pans with a big smile on his face. He was wiping each cooking apparatus with a cloth dipped in a viscous liquid that seemed to function both as a nonstick spray and as a protective topcoat to avoid rusting. It's hard to find stainless steel around these parts after all.
I cleared a space beside him and sat down. Grabbing a cloth of my own I began to help him with the maintenance work as I attempted to strike up a conversation.