The Chef From the Apocalypse Enters the Food Industry - Chapter 129

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 129. Skewer Shop (2)
‘So that’s how it’s been unfolding.’
Ever since Jang On-gyu started developing the New City District, things had moved at a breakneck pace. His stock had been riding high at the time, and people had flocked to follow him in droves.
‘There’s even a Gourmet Alley right next door, but just opening a store doesn’t guarantee success.’
I remembered it had filled up quite rapidly back then.
But those people who came in initially were clearly dropping out one by one.
“Has it been that many?”
“Just in that vicinity alone, two shops have already closed. And two more are set to close soon. They were good people too… it’s unfortunate.”
“Hmm….”
“You know how it is with self-employment, right? People don’t always do it because they want to. Sometimes they’re forced into it.”
“…That’s true.”
“Some people say if that’s the case, just work part-time instead. But where is part-time work easy to find? You have to put yourself in our shoes. When you get older, part-time work doesn’t really work out either. So… you get forced into it. You try to do something like this.”
“So that’s how you ended up failing.”
“Yes…. Well… maybe my preparation was lacking. I know, I know. Life is all about real experience… but the thing is… even when you do your best, sometimes it just doesn’t work out. Haha….”
It was more serious than I’d expected.
“Where did all those people go?”
“One person is looking into a completely different line of work, but it doesn’t seem easy. And I heard another person went back to their hometown. I hope things work out for them, but I can’t reach them. I’m not really sure.”
I turned those words over in my mind.
New people filled the vacant spots, only to leave again themselves. That was the pattern.
That’s how this Alley was operating.
No, not just this Alley—quite a few places might be like this too.
“How long did you say you’ve been running this shop?”
“Like I mentioned, this is my second season this year. Just over six months.”
“So it hasn’t even been a year yet.”
“Right. But it feels like three years have passed. Haha….”
The Owner let out a bitter laugh.
“I wondered why time felt so long, but it’s just because I’m anxious every single day. I think that’s what makes time stretch out.”
As I listened to him, I took a closer look.
The Owner kept his eyes forward. Whether he was embarrassed by what he’d just said or if it was simply a familiar refrain, I couldn’t tell. But his shoulders were slightly hunched.
“Actually, I… I talked about other people’s situations, but… I’m not in a different position myself.”
There was no particular self-deprecation in his tone.
He spoke matter-of-factly, like he was simply stating a fact.
“But you’re still holding on.”
“…Yes. Well. It’s stubbornness.”
The Owner scratched the bridge of his nose briefly.
“It’s not something to be proud of. I’m just somehow managing to hold on.”
“People who hold on, even if it’s through sheer stubbornness, tend to be the most tenacious.”
The Owner simply looked at me silently in response.
I couldn’t tell if his silence was agreement or if he was just letting it pass.
“Anyway… will you come in?”
“Yes, thank you.”
The Owner’s shop sign was simple.
[Market Skewers]
Beyond the glass window, two griddles sat side by side, and the seating was arranged in a long bar configuration.
A structure for standing and eating or taking food to go. There were no separate tables.
‘He’s kept the shop itself small. He’s made his calculations, in his own way.’
As I pushed open the glass door, the distinctive aroma of the griddles hit my nose first.
The scent of oil-soaked metal wafted through the air. But it wasn’t unpleasant. It smelled delicious.
“Do you run this place alone?”
“Yes. I hire part-timers when it gets busy, but these days it’s mostly just me.”
“What time do you open the shop?”
“Since it’s a skewer shop… I know I could open from lunch, but I open from morning. And I stay until midnight.”
Quite a long stretch. Just from the prep work, it meant he was spending nearly all his waking hours here.
“That’s quite a long day.”
“Even when there are no customers… I can’t bring myself to leave. Going home makes me anxious. So I’m here, keeping watch over the shop. Constantly. And if even one customer comes… well, I do whatever I can for them. Ha ha.”
The Owner spoke matter-of-factly.
“But lately I’ve been thinking I should close earlier.”
“Why?”
“…Even paying the electricity bill is getting difficult. This… just stubbornly holding on doesn’t make everything work out.”
I knew there were people struggling, but this was harder than I’d expected.
Things couldn’t stay as they were.
“Shall we take a look inside?”
“Yes!”
* * *
“Let me give it a try.”
The griddle ignited.
The Owner placed the skewers on it. Ten at once, in a neat line.
Sizzzzle—
‘Hmm. This is good?’
The sound of heat making contact was clean and precise.
The temperature was right. From the start.
The Owner waited without touching the skewers.
The sizzling sound gradually softened, then dropped with a distinct snap.
At that moment, he flipped them.
“You’re timing it by sound?”
“Yes. Sound is faster than color, I found.”
“Where did you learn that?”
“I didn’t learn it directly…”
The Owner paused and looked at the griddle.
“I watched the Chef grilling at the Night Market for a long time. I’ve been thinking about it since then. And eventually the answer came to me. That sound is what matters.”
“You’ve studied quite a bit, haven’t you?”
“I had to. You have to in order to survive….”
Truth be told, I didn’t learn the technique myself. This was the result of the Owner’s accumulated effort over time. I merely provided the initial direction.
“What about gloves?”
“I’d like to wear them, but when I do, I lose the feel.”
“The feel?”
“Yes. I can sense how the skewers are cooking through my fingertips.”
I’d encountered similar types of people in my previous life.
People who judged through their body rather than tools.
When you repeat work involving heat, your skin doesn’t just adapt—you develop an instinct for it.
This person was one of those types.
‘Natural talent runs strong with this one.’
The skewers came out one by one, each perfectly finished. The color was right, and nothing was charred.
‘The grilling is solid, but…?’
I shifted my gaze from the grill to the sauce container.
After observing this far, something caught my attention.
“Try using the sauce too.”
“Ah… understood!”
The Owner’s hand paused briefly before retrieving the sauce container.
He brushed sauce onto a skewer and handed it to me.
I tasted it immediately.
‘Ah.’
There was direction, just like before.
But the balance wasn’t right.
The sweetness came forward first, and the salt emerged too late, cutting off the aftertaste.
The sauce wasn’t keeping pace with his grilling skill.
“What goes into it?”
“Soy sauce, sugar, garlic, and oyster sauce.”
“Cut the oyster sauce in half, and the sugar too. Add a bit more soy sauce.”
“Can I try adjusting it now?”
“Go ahead.”
The Owner adjusted it as instructed and brushed it on again. He tasted it himself, went still for a moment, then handed it to me.
I tasted it.
‘Oh, quick.’
This person was born with speed. He grasped the direction in one attempt.
“This is better, isn’t it?”
“…Yes. This brings out the meat’s flavor. Much more delicious.”
The Owner looked at the skewer he’d made again.
“Do you understand why?”
“Because the oyster sauce was too strong?”
“If the oyster sauce is too strong, it doesn’t sit on top of the meat—it smothers it. The sauce becomes the star, so for the meat to shine, the sauce needs to support it from behind.”
The Owner seemed to pause and consider those words.
“So… the sauce should let the meat show through?”
“Exactly. A supporting ingredient should stay in its place.”
The Owner let out a soft laugh.
“How did you know that right away?”
“You taste it and you know.”
“Can I try again?”
“Go ahead.”
The Owner took his position at the griddle once more.
He brushed the adjusted sauce onto the skewers, flipped them, and placed the next ones down.
Tap-tap-tap, sizzle. Tap-tap-tap, sizzle.
There was rhythm to it.
Unbroken, consistent pace.
Grill, brush sauce, grill the next batch.
They came out in continuous succession like this. No factory line needed.
‘There’s something here.’
I watched the Owner at the griddle again.
He was applying the sauce once more. Quietly, with focus. His movements were more natural than before.
* * *
“Should we try a garlic sauce this time?”
“Garlic? Wouldn’t that be polarizing?”
“Not at all. People say they hate it when garlic is too strong, but there’s actually a devoted following. Especially for skewers like these—it’s practically essential. You need at least one signature flavor, don’t you?”
“A signature flavor…”
“Yes. So let’s make another one.”
I made another sauce.
“Push the garlic ratio higher this time. Reduce the oyster sauce—just enough for depth. Add scallions and Chinese chives… yes, grind some Chinese chives in there too.”
“Chinese chives? That’s unexpected.”
“Try it. It’ll be different than you think.”
This time I increased the garlic ratio.
Roasted garlic as the main, raw pushed to the background.
And it didn’t take long to make.
It was just a matter of adjusting the base the Owner had already prepared.
“Go on, try it.”
“Gladly!”
The Owner took the sauce, dipped lightly, and tasted it—then his movements paused for a beat.
“This is insane!”
“How so?”
The Owner thought for a moment.
“The beginning and the end are different. The savory richness comes through at the finish.”
This person definitely knows how to read everything.
‘He reads well. He can read, but he’s just weak at establishing direction. What an interesting person.’
That’s how I made three more variations.
Each time, the reaction was different.
The second time his shoulders twitched, and the third time he muttered to himself.
“Oh my… this is good too. This one as well.”
Every time he exclaimed, he flipped open his notepad. His writing hand moved quite quickly.
Later, he applied the sauce directly onto the skewers and placed them on the grill.
Sizzle. Crackle.
“It changes again when you do it this way. Really.”
The Owner nodded while looking at the grill.
He flipped the skewer, dipped it in sauce again, and tasted it.
“The aftertaste became cleaner. It cuts off sharply. It’s so good!”
“That’s what soy sauce does. It balances out the sweetness.”
“Ah… I see. The supporting element must truly be a support.”
“Exactly.”
Spicy soy sauce, soy sauce, garlic, teriyaki.
Several more sauces were added.
Each time, the notepad opened.
The Owner’s hands had been moving faster for some time now.
I’d felt it before.
He’s only slow when deciding and creating something alone.
Once something is determined, he seemed to be faster than anyone else.
‘Everything’s ready.’
With this person, it won’t take long.
Since grilling is already ingrained in his body, he just needs to master the sauces.
That seemed like it would happen quickly too.
The Owner picked up the finished skewer and took a bite. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them.
“This seems right.”
And with that conclusion as the finishing touch.
“Then we’re done.”
I crossed my arms and looked toward the grill.
We’d gotten this far, but there was still one problem remaining.
A Chef from the Apocalypse Enters the Food Service Industry
Author |
Heunghaeng
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Samyang C&C – Dream Books
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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