Special Chapter: Braised Pork

Special Chapter:
Braised Pork

It was five minutes until lunchtime. Yamada, an office worker now in his fifth year, looked at the clock on the wall of his office and then unlocked his smartphone and pulled up one of his favorite sites. He scrolled down the well-designed page and clicked on “Daily Special Report.”

Let’s see… Chikurinan has a tsukimi soba and gomoku inari zushi set. The Laughing Dragon’s A-set is sweet and sour pork, and the B-Set is Chinese gomoku chow mein… Kazama Lunches has a fried chicken lunch that’s fifty yen off…

Yamada had accessed an official homepage run by the neighborhood’s shopping district. It featured a map of the area, explanations of all the different shops, and even had staff blogs that were admittedly pretty boring. There was one specific page on the site that was updated daily, and it was the one with the most traffic.

The page’s name was “Daily Special Report.” It displayed the lunch special of every eatery in the shopping district for that day.

On the plus side, the list of “today’s lunch specials” was clear and to the point. On the negative side, it was overly simple. For your average office worker, lunchtime on a weekday was one of the few exciting parts of the day. It was important.

The restaurants in the area were tasked with feeding the mouths of nearly every office worker who worked nearby, and there were a lot of them. About half of the shops in the district were eateries of some kind, with the remainder being grocery stores and the like.

The office district in the area was home to some one hundred employees, and they all made their way to the shopping district on the weekdays, lining up to grab a bite. Despite how many customers there were to feed, there were barely any first-timers at the various restaurants. At some point or another, every worker had tried out every eatery lining the district. With so much competition, it was an endless scramble for business. As a result, any places that “survived” were considered to be of an extremely high level of quality. That’s why Yamada could rest easy looking at the Daily Special Report in order to choose his lunch.

Hm… which one should I get? …Oh?

Yamada stopped his finger on the screen.

Western Cuisine Nekoya. Today’s daily special is “braised pork.”

What a bizarre choice for a restaurant that described itself as serving western cuisine.

Braised pork, eh?

Nekoya’s daily special list was distinctly more whimsical than the others, often offering dishes that weren’t even on their main menu. Sometimes they were sets that complemented the season or plates that couldn’t be served daily because of the time they took to prepare. There were all sorts of reasons for the seemingly random choices, but the one thing Yamada knew was that you couldn’t go wrong with this kind of “rare menu item.”

But seriously, a western cuisine joint? Hm? Actually, wait a second.

Yamada suddenly remembered one of the senior employees at his company that retired some five years ago. After graduating from his local high school and finding work, the man spent forty years of his life at the same company. Even around the time he joined up, he was already a big Nekoya fan. Yamada remembered what he said to him way back when.

“The braised pork the former master served was one of a kind. When I was younger, I’d have a slice of that good stuff over rice, but it went great with booze, too.”

Yamada could feel his mouth watering. He joined the company after the current master took over and hadn’t yet gotten the opportunity to eat the supposedly sublime braised pork. That said, he went to Nekoya quite often, so he was more than aware of how good the food there was. But he often found himself puzzled by its menu. Despite its name, it served anything and everything. Maybe it was for that exact reason that it was famous in the district for serving “delicious food.”

If the master felt comfortable putting something on the menu as a daily special, Yamada was confident that it probably tasted amazing. The incredible braised pork that the senior office worker told him about was the rarest of rare dishes. Yamada couldn’t let this chance pass him by. The moment the lunch bell rang, he immediately stood up from his chair.

…Almost simultaneously, the section chief, ten years Yamada’s senior at the company, stood up as well. Their eyes met, and the younger employee could feel it.

Nekoya’s gonna be damn crowded today…

Yamada was right about two things. Nekoya was, in fact, super crowded that day. He was also right about the braised pork.

***

In order to understand the full depths of this tale, one must travel back ten days in time to the very beginning of the story.

“A pork dish so tender that it couldn’t possibly be from our world, you say?”

Mashira was both Yuuto’s master and the most famous boar hunter in the area. The middle-aged hunter looked at the older samurai in front of him, puzzled.

“Indeed. It all happened some twenty years ago. When I was in the middle of a mission, I found myself a visitor to this land. It was then that I met an older hunter who lived in these parts: your master. He treated me to quite the feast. It was a pork dish that was as tender as it was sweet.”

Denemon, the older samurai who was once a general in the capital city, sagely nodded his head. The folds of wrinkles on his face were proof of his age, just as his once-black head of hair and beard were now ash gray. Despite his age, however, his arms were as thick as tree trunks. He gave off the air that his skills hadn’t degraded in the least.

The old samurai had passed his own position down to his son and retired from active duty. The other day, he visited this town holding the head of an ogre that he killed himself, trading it in it for some money. On the Eastern Continent, if one brought proof of having slayed a man-killing ogre, hunters could receive a cash reward. The fact that this older man was able to do so meant that his skill as a swordsman had not yet dwindled. He was a true samurai.

The samurai class ruled the Mountain Nation. In the neighboring Ocean Nation, generals who had never held a sword in their entire life ran the country. The king standing at the top of the government had never once gone to the battlefield himself in order to lead his men. The Mountain Nation, however, was different. The samurai protected and ran the country, just as they stood on the front lines leading their men. If one was incapable of taking down an ogre on their own, they were not fit to stand above others.

The older samurai was born and raised in the Mountain Nation and towered above the other strong warriors of his nation. He had the skills to prove it, too.

“I have achieved glory and passed down my house,” he said. “My grandchild has even come of age. At this point, I can die with no regrets to my name. Perhaps this is precisely why I want to eat that one dish I ate so long ago. It’s why I’m here on this very day. Might you know where I can find this dish of dishes?”

Mashira thought quietly to himself after lending an ear to Denemon’s tale. Let me see, I don’t recall Master ever telling me about a dish like that in this… Wait, actually…

Something came to mind, and the hunter shot a question at the samurai. “Excuse me, Lord Denemon. I have but one question. Did you perchance happen to eat that pork dish after crossing through an eastern-style black door in the mountains?”

It was less of a question and more of a confirmation. In this small village far from the city, there was only one place he could imagine that would serve something that could not be found in the city.

Mashira realized that Denemon was likely being careful with his words. The samurai slyly smiled and nodded his head.

“Correct! That I did! Now that I think about it, it was indeed a place like that!”

“I see. In that case, is it possible for you to wait three days?”

“Three, you say?”

Denemon seemed puzzled. He apparently didn’t know the details of how the door worked.

“Yes. That restaurant is only open once every seven days on the Day of Satur. That’s but three days from now. If you wait until then, you’ll be able to go.”

Indeed. If one wanted to eat food that wasn’t of this world, it only made sense to go to a restaurant from another world. However, in three days time, Denemon would be met with the painful sting of disappointment.

“Say what?! You no longer make it?!” Denemon’s loud voice echoed throughout the small restaurant.

“I’m very sorry. The braised pork was actually the previous master’s specialty.”

One of the master’s regulars brought with him a man who requested a menu item that hadn’t been made in years. He had scrubbed it from the menu after he took over the restaurant. There were a few reasons as to why this happened. One of them was that it didn’t really match the image of a western cuisine restaurant, and the other was that it took a great deal of time to make. Also…

“To be honest, I just never felt like I was able to replicate the same flavor my precursor’s braised pork had. That’s why I don’t serve it,” the master explained.

When he had inherited the restaurant, the current master’s cooking skills were nowhere near his precursor’s. The one thing he had confidence in was western cuisine, mostly thanks to how hard he trained so that he could come in to run the restaurant at any given time.

The reality was that the previous master had lived off of his cooking abilities for some sixty years after the war ended. His culinary knowledge was as vast as it was deep. The current master wasn’t confident that he could serve something other than western cuisine to customers who knew what his precursor’s cooking tasted like. He wasn’t convinced that they’d like it.

That’s why he’d quietly erased braised pork from the menu. He wasn’t confident enough in his own abilities.

“Is that so? That’s unfortunate, but I understand your reasoning. One cannot win against the passage of time, I suppose,” said Denemon. The samurai’s shoulders dropped in disappointment. Now that he thought about it, the last time he had the braised pork was nearly twenty years ago. Back then, the previous master was already as old as Denemon was now. It made sense that he was no longer of this world.

Denemon sighed, full of emotion. Someone he once knew was no longer of this world, and something he once had was no longer within reach. It was a sigh that came from a deep sense of loneliness.

After seeing the samurai’s expression darken, the master couldn’t help but raise his voice.

“…Do you think you could wait a week, er, seven days?”

“Hm? Seven days, you say? But why? I suppose since I’m retired, I have naught but time on my hands.”

The master steeled his resolve and replied to the puzzled Denemon. “Braised pork takes a great deal of time and effort to prepare, so there’s no way I could serve it to you today. But if you give me seven days, I can have it ready for you by next Saturday.”

“Say what? Are you serious?! I am most grateful! Of course, I’d be happy to wait!” Denemon’s eyes widened at the master’s words. He nodded his head, unable to conceal his joy.

“All right.”

The master’s expression was somewhat stiff. In seven days, he’d be able to prepare braised pork. By saying these words out loud, he was forcing himself to stay the course. There would be no turning back.

I’m pretty sure the recipe’s in Gramps’s book, he thought. Which means the question is whether or not I can match his flavor or even surpass it.

The master would revive braised pork in seven days. No matter what.

“Now then, I am most happy that I get to eat that amazing dish once more in my life. Sir Mashira, what other dishes would you recommend?”

“Heh, in that case, I’d recommend ‘ginger pork.’ I reckon it’d be right up your alley.”

Denemon was in extremely high spirits as he listened to his hunter companion’s recommendation. I can’t believe it. I get to eat it once more.

The samurai munched away on the ginger pork he ordered, recommended to him by the hunter who was a regular of the restaurant. The cooked meat was indeed tender, and it went magnificently with the delicious pure white rice served on the side. And yet still he thought of that one magical dish. Twenty years ago, he was stunned that something so incredible existed in this world. He was overcome with the joy of knowing he would once more be able to eat braised pork.

And so, seven days later, the familiar sound of bells ringing echoed throughout the restaurant.

“Master, I’ve arrived!”

Denemon, with Mashira in tow, announced his arrival. He never knew that seven days could feel so long. That’s why he was so excited.

“Aye, welcome!”

The master, his eyes red from a lack of sleep, showed the pair to their table. “That’ll be two orders of braised pork, right?”

“Indeed! Thank you!”

The master confirmed the order, and Denemon nodded in response. He was going to be able to eat that magical dish again. When he started thinking about it, his mouth began to water.

“Curses, must we still wait?! Is this not taking too long?!”

“Now, now. We only just placed our orders.”

Denemon had begun to grow impatient due to the size of his own expectations, but Mashira chuckled and kept him grounded. After a brief period of time, the master came out of the kitchen holding their meals on a tray.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Your order of braised pork.”

The plate the master placed down in front of Denemon was deeper than usual. On top of it lay a light brown boiled egg and radish that had soaked up the brown juices. Next to those was a serving of bright green, boiled spinach, and large slices of pork meat.

“Oooh! Oooh! This is it! This is the meal I’ve waited years for!”

The sweet fragrance wafting up from the meat was enough to remind the samurai of his initial shock back when he first ate the dish. He immediately grabbed a pair of chopsticks. Even ignoring the main focus of the meal, this was quite the feast. The radish had soaked in the savory flavor of the pork, and the egg overflowed with golden yellow yolk after being split open. Yet still, the true star here was the pork meat. Denemon reached for it with his chopsticks, zero hesitation in his movements.

Usually, this kind of thick meat was difficult for even the tough-jawed citizens of the Mountain Nation to comfortably chew through. Instead, Denemon’s chopsticks cut through the meat as if it were made of water.

“Huh, well isn’t this a surprise! I didn’t think pork meat could get this tender,” Mashira said, surprised by the meat’s lack of toughness. Ginger pork was another meat dish that came in slices, and while that too was tender and easy to cut into with chopsticks, it wasn’t nearly as thick as the meat on Denemon’s plate. Mashira didn’t think something like that could be so tender.

Denemon inspected the large piece of pork meat. The dark brown juices colored the meat and the transparent fat and skin above it. Mm, the color and fragrance leave no room for doubt, he thought.

The meat gave off a slight, sweet aroma. This was indeed the same color and scent as the feast he once enjoyed. They were enough to remind him of the flavor he experienced so many moons ago, causing his mouth to water. The samurai quickly brought the meat to his mouth.

It melted.

The moment Denemon put the meat into his mouth, it immediately melted. The layer of fat dissolved before he could even bite into it, and the skin that should have been hard left behind nothing but savoriness as it disappeared from existence. The pork meat that absorbed the flavor of the sweet and sour sauce came undone in his mouth, leaving behind a savory aftertaste.

Mm? This is on a whole different level!

As the flavor of the sweet and sour pork weaved its way throughout his mouth, Denemon was stunned by the memories of when he first ate it years ago. He was moved to action. The samurai reached for the bowl of pure white rice off to the side and began to shovel the fluffy grains into his mouth. The savory flavor of the braised pork mixed with the sweetness of the rice, increasing the deliciousness of both tenfold. This fusion of flavors convinced Denemon that there wasn’t anything in the world as delicious as what he was eating at that very moment.

Yes, yes! This was what I longed to eat all these many years! True deliciousness!

Twenty years ago, the hunter who invited him to the restaurant told him that the braised pork and white rice went incredibly well with the other world’s strong seishu alcohol. He was right. The combination of sweet rice, surprisingly spicy alcohol, and braised pork made for a taste that one could only experience in another world. Denemon glanced over at his friend Mashira. He was completely silent.

The hunter was quietly moving his chopsticks back and forth, devouring the braised pork one moment, a radish the next, followed by the egg and rice. He occasionally took bites of the boiled spinach and the sauce that smelled ever-so-slightly of the ocean, also clearing his palate with the salty and spicy radish on one of the other plates. Mashira stopped for nothing.

“Master, another plate, please!”

The hunter asked for seconds, almost as if he forgot that Denemon was sitting right in front of him.

Mm, I won’t lose to him.

Denemon sped up his own eating. He feasted on the high-quality pork meat, the boiled egg that spilled forth its golden insides once cut, and the radish that soaked in the juices.

With each bite of the meal, more rice vanished into his stomach. It didn’t take long for Denemon’s bowl to empty out.

“Master, I too would like seconds on the rice! And drink as well! Bring me one bottle of chilled seishu!” If he remembered correctly, the hunter from back then left behind a little mountain shack near the black door so that he could sleep should he drink too much. Old memories were coming back to life inside Denemon.

What the master brought out wasn’t the sort of cloudy alcohol the samurai was used to drinking; it was clear. The transparent alcohol had the scent of rice and went down smoothly but was also incredibly hot and strong.

The strong booze melded well with the sweet and sour pork.

Ah, this is no good.

He took a sip of booze, a bite of braised pork, a sip of booze, a bite of braised pork, a mouthful of rice, and then more braised pork. Denemon continued this loop until he was drunk and his stomach pleasantly satisfied. Yet somehow, his chopsticks didn’t stop moving, at least not until his stomach could handle no more.

And so the master was able to revive one of Nekoya’s greatest menu items, and Denemon was reunited with the meal of his dreams after twenty long years. He ate and drank his fill, and by the evening, he proclaimed that he would spend the night in the shack so that he could sober up. His face was bright red as he hung over his hunter friend’s shoulders and returned home.

After watching the two drunk men leave the restaurant, the master handed over the giant pot of beef stew to the Red Queen, as per the usual.

“Geez, I can’t believe I made it in time.”

With the restaurant closed and the customers gone, silence settled over Nekoya as the master stretched his arms out wide.

“Man, I should not be pulling all-nighters at this age.”

He sighed to himself while rolling his stiff shoulders. The fact that he ended up having to make even more braised pork than he initially planned for left him an exhausted mess. His original plan was to offer the meal as a daily special on Friday and then serve the leftovers on Saturday. What he didn’t expect was that he would sell out of the stuff on Friday.

“I guess Gramps’s braised pork really was that popular…”

All of this just served as yet another reminder that his grandfather truly was an amazing man. When he was forced to inherit the restaurant after his grandfather’s sudden death, braised pork was one of the handful of dishes he took off the menu because he didn’t think he could replicate the flavor. At the time, people were disappointed over the change, but he never thought that all these years later there would still be fans of the dish on both sides of the door.

“I suppose I’ll serve it as a daily special on another Friday,” the master whispered to himself.

The customers who came on Friday really seemed to enjoy the braised pork. There were even some who complained that they couldn’t drink with it because it was the middle of the day, so they came back that night to eat it again.

Of course, part of this was because it was a dish that had been gone from the menu for some ten years, but the fact that it was popular with the young folks who were only familiar with the current version of Nekoya made the master genuinely happy.

“But whew, I’m beat. I don’t even have an appetite.”

The master let out a satisfied sigh. Preparing more braised pork after closing shop on Friday and then running Saturday’s business took its toll on the man in his late thirties. He glanced over at the corn porridge he saved for dinner.

I’m more sleepy than hungry.

He decided to grab a fast shower and hop into bed. He would have plenty of time to eat in the morning. The master turned the lights off and headed to the elevator that would take him to his home on the third floor.

Ring, ring.

The sound of the bell filled the dark room, announcing the arrival of a new customer.

TO BE CONTINUED IN

Restaurant to Another World Vol. 2