Chapter 6: How about a whole chicken?(2)

Eloy Graham is a gourmet.

It’s not just a self-proclaimed title.

He is still the president of the [Kingdom Culinary Association], and his evaluations are the evaluations of the Kingdom Culinary Association.

Of course, this [Kingdom Culinary Association] is not a nationally recognized organization; it’s simply a private social club.

However, the members of this club all share the same belief.

Who sets the standard for fine dining?

Is it the nouveau riche who drown their food in spices, making it impossible to even taste the dish?

Or is it the aristocrats, who get so caught up in the rarity of ingredients that they limit the scope of fine dining themselves?

Could it be the commoners who, having never even encountered spices, are simply content with filling their stomachs?

It couldn’t be.

This Kingdom Culinary Association, which casts aside all such constraints and focuses purely on the taste of cooking, is the true standard of fine dining.

And at the pinnacle of this association stands Eloy Graham, at the forefront of the Kingdom’s culinary scene!

He was proud of that, and he worked diligently to maintain that pride.

Thus, Eloy Graham couldn’t help but feel a deep confusion.

‘Is this young man mocking me right now?’

Yes, it’s a chicken dish, so that’s fine.

No matter how many rare ingredients there are, chicken is one of the most versatile and universally liked ingredients.

Since chicken would have been the most common meat in his upbringing, he must have chosen it as his specialty.

But it’s not grilled or fried; it’s a soup?

Isn’t this more of a home-cooked meal than a gourmet dish?

‘I had hoped for something that would show his training.’

Perhaps he had overestimated this young man.

Because of the confident posture and bold voice, he had unknowingly blurred his judgment.

Eloy Graham, trying to hide his disappointment, thought to himself.

‘But I won’t lose this bet.’

There’s no way a simple soup like this could satisfy his palate, which had been refined by all manner of fine dining.

Unaware of his thoughts, Kyle confidently offered the dish.

“Here, eat up. I’ve brought it from the kitchen, so it’s still warm.”

“I see.”

Eloy Graham, still holding onto a sliver of hope, took a spoonful of the broth to inspect it.

But there was nothing particularly unusual.

It was just a slightly thickened broth from potato starch and chicken stock.

Even sniffing it, the smells of scallions and garlic stood out, but there was nothing special about it.

He lowered his expectations completely and brought the spoon to his mouth.

Gulp—

And after tasting a sip, he couldn’t help but make a sound.

“Hm?”

…

What is this?

Why does it taste so good?

This is clearly just a simple home-cooked meal.

The heaping amounts of scallions and chives are unusual, but there’s nothing that should surprise him.

But the strange nostalgia that the distinct yet familiar taste triggered was touching Eloy Graham’s heart in ways beyond just his taste buds.

No, no.

I am a gourmet.

There must be another reason why this dish is so appealing.

The old man desperately tried to discern the reason through his sense of taste.

‘It sticks to the tongue?’

It clings to the mouth, much like eating well-aged cheese.

That doesn’t mean the broth tastes like cheese.

The broth was heavy but clean, and it went down smoothly without hesitation, warming his stomach.

However, the aftertaste of the broth that lingered on his tongue had the power to lift the spoon again.

‘Ah, that’s it. Now I get it.’

After regaining his composure, he took a few more sips and figured out the reason.

‘There’s something more. Is this… fish stock?’

Honestly, he couldn’t be sure.

The smell of fish stock was nearly gone, masked by the scents of scallions, garlic, and pepper.

But the taste was definitely something he had experienced before.

After thinking for a moment, Eloy Graham asked,

“Anchovy?”

“Wow, how did you know?”

“It was a guess. The fish I would use for stock in my kitchen would be something like that.”

“You memorized all that?”

‘Of course, that’s only natural. But how did you even think to use anchovies for broth? Who taught you this?’

“I didn’t learn it from anyone… We have something similar in my hometown. We don’t soak them in olive oil there, though.”

“Ah, olive oil! That’s why it was harder to recognize!”

Eloy Graham unconsciously raised his voice.

Now he understood why he hadn’t immediately figured out this dish.

For him, anchovies were always preserved in olive oil.

In other words, this dish was beyond his usual understanding.

It wasn’t just a simple home-cooked meal.

‘It’s been over ten years since I learned this technique.’

No, perhaps it was precisely because of that experience that he was able to think of this method?

Eloy Graham couldn’t help but feel pure admiration.

This was truly the embodiment of the Kingdom Culinary Association’s pursuit of pure gourmet dining—

‘No, not yet.’

Regaining his composure, the old man returned to his calm, gourmet self.

He acknowledged that the broth was excellent.

But this dish was a chicken dish.

No matter how great the broth, if the taste of the meat itself wasn’t up to par, it couldn’t be called fine dining.

However, generally, in soup dishes, the flavor of the meat doesn’t stand out.

This is because the meat is usually overcooked, making it dry and tough, either to enhance the broth’s flavor or simply to increase the portion size.

Additionally, meat that’s been boiled for too long loses all its nutrients into the broth, making it tasteless.

In other words, the better the broth, the higher the chance the meat will be lacking in flavor.

This was the common knowledge he held.

‘What about this chicken?’

Eloy Graham cautiously speared a piece of chicken with his fork.

The chicken, cut into a bite-sized piece, was tender enough to be easily pierced by the fork.

Just as he was about to put the chicken in his mouth, Kyle stopped him.

“Oh, try dipping the chicken in salt with some chives.”

“With chives? It looks quite inconvenient to eat with a fork.”

“Ah… That’s right. Originally, it’s a dish meant to be eaten in a different way, not with a fork.”

“Is that so?”

Eloy Graham took a handkerchief out of his pocket and rubbed it with his fingers.

The handkerchief became damp, just right for wiping his hands.

He enjoyed the surprised look on Kyle’s face as he wiped his hands, then moved to the chicken.

“No, you’re not supposed to eat it with your bare hands.”

He was about to reach for the chicken but awkwardly set it down instead.

So, I’m not supposed to eat it with my hands…

To spare the old man from further embarrassment, Kyle kindly explained in a gentle voice.

“Just put the chicken, chives, and broth together on the spoon and eat it. You can also dip the chicken in a little salt.”

“Got it.”

The old man followed Kyle’s suggestion, adding the chicken and chives to his spoon before putting it in his mouth.

And then, silence.

Eloy Graham closed his eyes slowly.

‘It’s tender.’

The meat was cooked with such delicate precision.

Every time he chewed, the juice and broth flowed out, and the meat was tender yet had the right amount of bounce.

‘And these chives.’

The chives, cooked simply with the broth, had no seasoning but added a different texture when chewed alongside the meat.

Though the flavor felt a little bland due to the lack of seasoning, the salt he had dipped the meat in solved that.

Nothing was excessive; everything complemented each other in harmony.

It was a mild, unpretentious taste, one that could be eaten every day without tiring of it.

It reminded him of the meals his wife used to prepare long ago.

Eloy Graham stopped his thoughts.

He simply focused on chewing the meat, drinking the broth, and finishing his bowl.

After emptying his bowl, he spoke to Kyle.

“I have one question.”

“Yes, go ahead.”

“Didn’t you find it difficult to leave the party?”

“Well, it wasn’t easy.”

“Then how did you decide to retire? Didn’t you want to go back?”

Kyle paused for a moment, a thoughtful expression crossing his face before he answered.

“I realized that thinking only about what I had lost would make me unhappy.”

“Thinking about what’s lost makes you unhappy…?”

“Yes. You know that I had a time of wandering before I joined the party, right?”

Kyle asked as he pulled out a chair and sat facing the old man.

He adjusted his seat to match the old man’s eye level and began to tell his story.

“At that time, all I could think about was what I had lost—my hometown, my family, my friends… They were my whole world. And without getting them back, I didn’t think I could ever live the same way again—”

At that moment, a warrior appeared before him.

And she reached out her hand to him, who was gradually losing his humanity.

“Then, I started realizing that new, precious people were entering my life. That’s when I understood—I was letting obsession destroy me.”

“Did you give up?”

“Give up… I don’t think so, but…”

Kyle gave a bitter smile.

“I just realized there were better choices for me. A better choice than destroying myself for something precious.”

“…I see.”

The old man looked down at his bowl.

How long had it been since he had lived clinging to power?

He couldn’t even remember the last time he had eaten a meal prepared by his wife.

Yet here he was, eating this unfamiliar food and remembering that meal.

Despite having built his reputation in the culinary world, he still couldn’t forget that taste.

For a moment, Eloy Graham fell into deep thought with a blank expression.

Then he lowered his head to Kyle.

“Thank you. Even at my age, I’m learning from a young person.”

“Sir? Why are you suddenly bowing?”

“You won. It was truly a perfect meal.”

Then, the old man, Eloy Graham, raised his head.

With a relieved smile, he shed the last bit of his lingering attachment.

“Please, accept my restaurant.”