Leontaine placed her hands on her hips, nodded in satisfaction, and gave a look to the chef in the kitchen.
From the other side of the counter, a pleasant clattering sound began to rise.
It was the sound of oil.
Normally, people would skimp on oil and shallow-fry the food, but not this place. Judging from the sound, they must be deep-frying the ingredients in plenty of oil, letting them swim.
Along with a feeling of “What extravagance!”, there was also curiosity about how it would turn out.
Fritters were a familiar dish to Jean, who was from the Eastern Kingdom.
He was curious to see how they would be cooked in the Empire. He might be able to glean something from it.
It wasn’t exactly a lie turning into truth, but if he could obtain important information here, he might be able to make a comeback in the employ of the Strange Story Collectors.
He scooped up the otoshi tofu with a spoon.
Dishes using this tofu were a secret object of interest in the Eastern Kingdom’s high society. The bard Krowinkel, renowned for his love of cuisine, had sung songs praising dashimaki and ankake yudofu all over the place, making them a hot topic.
There were rumors that it could be eaten somewhere in the old capital, but who would have thought it was this tavern, Nobu? It was a strange twist of fate.
As he savored the simple taste, a metal box was brought to him along with a small plate.
“This is the sauce. No double-dipping.”
“No double-dipping? What do you mean?”
When he asked, Leontaine grinned.
“You’re not the young king of the Eastern Kingdom, are you? You should be able to tell how much sauce you need in one go.”
“Ah, I can certainly tell, but…”
“If you dip too many times, the sauce gets dirty. Everyone in this shop, staff and customers alike, are clean freaks.”
“Being a clean freak is a good thing.”
The moment the young king’s name was mentioned, Jean struggled to keep his composure from showing on his face.
The current king of the Eastern Kingdom was twelve years old.
Having ascended to the throne at a young age, he was rumored to be incompetent.
One of the rumors was that he could never figure out how much sauce to put on his favorite dishes, and would keep adding more and more.
Why did this waitress, Leontaine, dare to mention the young king’s name? Could it be that she had realized that Jean was a Strange Story Collector under the command of the Princess Regent?
He wanted to get out of here immediately, but he couldn’t afford to be hasty. First, he would eat the food.
After that, he would calmly attempt to escape.
As a secret agent paid by the country, he didn’t care about his life, but he had to bring back the information he had obtained.
That was the way to show his loyalty to Princess Regent Celestine de Oiria, who, as the young king’s older sister, oversaw all of the Eastern Kingdom’s political, military, and diplomatic affairs.
“Now, start with the shrimp.”
Shrimp. He thought it was unbelievable in the inland old capital, but he wouldn’t make the same mistake as he did with the salad.
He had investigated that several water transport guilds had joined forces to import seafood from the northern fishing town. He didn’t know how they transported the shrimp, but there must be some kind of trick to it.
First, a bite.
After the crispy, crunchy texture of the fried batter came the sweetness.
He had never known that shrimp could be this sweet. It was his first time finding that out.
The plump texture and the exquisite harmony of the batter and sauce. He could eat any number of these.
While he was hoping for more shrimp, Leontaine brought the next dish.
“Next is onion.”
The sliced onion was thoroughly fried.
He tried to imagine what it would taste like, but he could only think of the pungent taste when eaten raw after being soaked in water. It was sweet when cooked, but Jean had never eaten fried onions before.
Crunch.
“Oh.”
He couldn’t help but let out a voice, because of the sweetness. He never imagined that frying alone could bring out so much sweetness. He couldn’t resist taking another bite…and brought the mug to his lips.
It was as he expected.
Kushikatsu went well with Toriaezu Nama.
He crunched and gulped, crunched and gulped, and the onion disappeared.
Ah, why did it have to disappear? As he thought that, the next skewer arrived.
“Next is quail eggs and fava beans.”
The quail eggs, with their lovely three small, connected rounds, had a surprisingly rich flavor. And the fava beans, despite their small size, were finished with a great flavor that asserted their bean-ness.
This was delicious. And it made him want to drink.
He couldn’t resist finishing his first glass and ordered a second, and just at the right time, the next skewer was brought to him.
“Scallops and pork fillet. The scallops are good with salt. The fillet is, well, a part of the meat. It’s lean and tender. Both are delicious.”
When told that they were delicious, a food connoisseur would follow that method.
He lightly sprinkled salt on the scallops, and the sweetness of the adductor muscle spread throughout his mouth. He immediately followed it with Toriaezu Nama.
The Toriaezu Nama at this restaurant, as he had researched beforehand, was a beer brewed differently, called lager. It had more crispness than ale, but with a slight bitterness.
But that was good.
Following the scallops, he dipped the pork fillet deeply into the sauce. He was told not to double-dip, so he handled it carefully. He doubted he would be thrown out of the restaurant just for double-dipping, but he was a man with a guilty conscience. He couldn’t afford to be suspected of anything trivial.
Crunch.
Ah, this was also delicious. And it was no wonder. He could guess the part called the fillet. It was a rare and expensive cut. It was expensive even at the butcher shop, so he couldn’t eat it often.
He had thought until this very moment that the best way to eat pork was to grill it or make it into ham, but that was a big mistake.
Frying pork was justice.
He would definitely fry pork at the next New Year’s fritter party. Definitely.
From there, the relentless kushikatsu onslaught continued.
The system of kushikatsu at this restaurant was that skewers were brought out one after another until you were satisfied.
Konjac, shishito peppers, salmon, lotus root, shishamo smelt, mochi bacon, potatoes, squid, Camembert cheese, a whole asparagus spear, and chicken tenderloin.
As the skewers progressed, so did the drinks.
The cabbage that came with it was also good.
The kushikatsu at this restaurant didn’t feel greasy, but when he wanted to refresh his mouth, he would nibble on the cabbage. This would reset his palate and prepare him for the next skewer.
After the sausage came the shrimp.
“Does this mean we’ve come full circle?”
“Ah, that’s right. We’re not a kushikatsu specialty store, so our taisho was apologizing for having only this many items.”
“No, no, I have no complaints since I’ve been able to eat so many delicious things.”
His face was red, but his mind was surprisingly clear.
He had to pretend to be drunk and make a quick retreat.
“Well, the bill…”
He said, and was about to take out a horseshoe silver coin from the gassai bag hanging from his waist when his hand slipped. The no-double-dipping sauce box was overturned.
“Oh, I’m sorry!”
He was flustered and tried to do something about it, when Leontaine moved quickly.
This agility, she was no ordinary waitress.
She moved with the lightness of a seasoned mercenary, quickly wiping away the spilled sauce.
“It’s okay, customer. Everyone in this shop, staff and customers alike, are clean freaks.”
Jean-François Mont de la Vigny was at a loss for words at the hidden pressure in Leontaine’s smile.
He had been found out. The first “clean freak” was a warning.
This shop was not a place for a dirty secret agent from the Eastern Kingdom to approach. What a failure. To be pitied by the enemy was the ultimate disgrace for a secret agent.
“Customer? You look pale, are you alright? Are you, by chance, wearing makeup? It’s coming off with sweat…”
“Ah, no, I’m fine. There’s no problem at all. Thank you for the meal!”
Throwing the gassai bag, Jean ran out into the night of the old capital. He couldn’t stay in such a terrifying shop. He would immediately write down the details of today and send them to the headquarters of the Strange Story Collectors. Once that was done, he would ask for leave. He couldn’t continue this work any longer. That’s right. He would move to the countryside and work in a wheat field. He should be able to buy a small field with his savings.
Running through the darkness of the old capital, Jean, however, was thinking that he wanted to eat kushikatsu again, just once more.
Far south of the old capital, in the Eastern Kingdom’s capital, La Parisia.
Editor’s Note
Interesting that “La Parisia” is to the east of Aitheria which seems to be medieval Germany… 🤔
This metropolis, which has continued since the ancient empire of long ago, continues to flourish as the center of politics and economy of the Eastern Kingdom.
In the innermost part of the city, in the office of the royal castle, Princess Regent Celestine de Oiria was efficiently processing reports related to national affairs.
As she was reviewing a report on diplomatic issues with a nobleman from the United Kingdom, there were four crisp knocks on the black oak door.
“Your Highness, excuse me.”
“Enter.”
The chamberlain who entered was holding a single sheet of parchment.
“The report you have been waiting for. From the Strange Story Collectors.”
“Ah, that one.”
There was an interesting man among the Strange Story Collectors. Celestine had heard that last year.
His explanations of food were exceptionally skillful.
If he had taken up that kind of work, he could have achieved the same level of success as Krowinkel.
His report on the salad, written in a lively style, was so skillful that it made everyone who read it want to try it.
It was the Princess Regent herself who decided to send him to the old capital again.
“What is it this time?”
“Kushikatsu, it seems.”
“Oh, that’s an unfamiliar dish. I’m looking forward to reading it.”
A small pleasure in the midst of hard work.
Jean-François Mont de la Vigny was completely unaware that the report was being treated in such a way.