Cabbage.
Yes, it was cabbage.
Gernot was eating cabbage.
Gernot, a distinguished figure with a seat on the city council of the ancient capital, was simply, and wholeheartedly, eating cabbage.
It hadn’t even been made into pickled sauerkraut.
At first glance, it truly was just raw, peeled cabbage.
It had a little bit of salted seaweed or something similar, and a touch of seasoned oil. That was all there was to the flavoring.
And yet, why?
“It’s quite addictive, isn’t it?”
The serving girl asked, and Gernot almost nodded in agreement.
No, that wouldn’t do.
He could not condone such a dish.
“It is certainly a taste filled with creativity, Fraulein,” Gernot began, adjusting his monocle. “However, in this ancient city of history and tradition, as a menu item for a pub, it seems a bit… lacking in effort, don’t you think?”
TN: In this case, Gernot says izakaya but means a pub or tavern as the residents here are unaware of Japanese culture.
Saying what he needed to say, Gernot straightened his monocle.
With his prominent forehead and aquiline nose, the monocle gave Gernot an air that could make him seem like a university professor.
However, the work he held wasn’t quite so prestigious.
“Is that so? I think if it tastes good, it’s good,” the serving girl responded with a smile, making Gernot shrug slightly.
To say something like, “If it tastes good, it’s good,” ignoring all formality and tradition, especially in front of him, well, it seemed that an uneducated foreign woman was best suited for something like serving.
“…Anyway, has the Taisho, the master of this establishment, not yet arrived?”
He asked the server as he wet his throat with the Toriaezu Nama ale.
Talking to this server was getting him nowhere.
Gernot was at this izakaya on “business.”
“He’s out buying some ingredients that we’re short on, so he’ll probably be a while. While you’re waiting, shall I make something simple for you?”
“No, thank you. I’ll have a bit more of this… ‘Crispy Cabbage,’ as you call it.”
Gernot’s job was that of a tax collector.
He was contracted by the city council to collect taxes.
Of course, there was no profit to be made if he collected the exact requested amount. Therefore, Gernot and other collectors would use any means necessary to find fault with the taxpayers and get them to pay as much tax as possible.
The difference all went into the tax collector’s pocket.
A skilled collector could collect two or even three times the requested amount, and some even built mansions like palaces.
And today, the establishment that had caught Gernot’s eye was this “Izakaya Nobu.”
This shop, which had started business unnoticed, had gained immense popularity, especially among the palace guard, and its earnings were likely considerable.
If he played his cards right, it was a case that could bring in quite a bit of revenue.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Even so, he couldn’t stop.
Because he couldn’t stop, his hand kept reaching for more.
The saltiness was noticeable, but not unpleasant, making him thirsty.
And then that made him want more of the Toriaezu Nama, a vicious cycle.
Gernot was an imperial man. He wasn’t weak enough to get drunk on a single ale or two, but after several mugs, he was starting to fill up.
“…Well, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to change the taste in my mouth a little. Do you have any recommendations for appetizers?”
“Everything here is good, but we can’t make a lot of things without the boss here,” she said.
“Hmm, is that so?”
When everything was recommended, it was hard to choose.
Should he get a grilled wurst sausage?
Or perhaps fried bacon and potatoes would do the trick.
No, but…
As he was contemplating, he noticed something simmering in a pot on the counter.
Looking closer, he saw the serving girl beginning to boil something.
“Hey, Fraulein… what is that? If my eyes don’t deceive me… it looks like pasta noodles.”
“Yes, it’s pasta. It’s my lunch.”
“I’ll take it.”
“Huh? But this is just for the staff… and isn’t pasta weird for an izakaya?”
Gernot glared at the server, who seemed reluctant for some reason.
“This is a place that serves food, and I am a customer!”
“Ah, yes, I know that, but…”
Pasta noodles.
It had been a long time, but once he saw it, he couldn’t help but want to eat it.
Coming from the south of the Empire, Gernot had grown up eating pasta almost every day as a child.
Since becoming a successful tax collector in the capital, he hadn’t returned to his hometown even once.
This was a chance to taste the flavor of home again. There was no way he could let it slip by.
“Please. Give that to me.”
“Ah, well, okay, that’s fine, but… I get to decide the flavor, okay? I’m not good at making complicated dishes.”
“Yes, it’s fine. I’ll leave it to you.”
“Alright, then we’re going with Napolitan!”