June 06, 2023
The story is inspired by the Japanese and Korean Drama series, 'The Midnight Diner.' Enjoy.
Warning: Occasional OOC and Corniness.
"Excuse me, another serving of warm sake, please. The same as before."
"Coming right up!"
The customer's request beckons me out of the kitchen and toward the front bar. Beelining to the sake collection, earthy hues, and cursive script paint my vision. I forage and uncover Junmai sake from the forest of browns, greens, blues, and other frosted bottles. My hand unearths the desired rice wine and empties a portion of its content—a gentle waterfall pool into a ceramic container before I submerge it in a tempered bath. Within minutes warmth emits to my fingertips as vapor escapes from the vessel.
I seize the jar and wipe away any lingering droplets. Before serving it, I pour a cup, downing the mellow but rich shot of alcohol. It slides down smoothly, and my throat melts. Subconsciously, my tongue licks my lips with a satisfied grin. Perfect!
I approach the customer and deliver a careful pour into the man's empty sake cup. Steam flows out, and a subtle fruity smell emanates. When the drink tops with a final drop, a prompt thanks coaxes me back into the kitchen, though not before depositing the warm sake jar in my place.
A soup pot simmers at the stove, and the air wafts with savory cream. My gaze feasts upon rich, milky stew swimming with chunks of white chicken, broccoli florets, diced carrots, mushrooms, and skinned potatoes. It looks good, and with a taste... ready!
I spoon a scoop's worth and pour, entranced as light-colored liquid ripples upon contact with the porcelain bowl. A familiar ding resounds as I set the spoon down, prompting hasty strides to the oven. Inside is melted mozzarella, spilling over the toasted garlic bread's borders and slightly. I gather a plate of gooey goodness and the soup on a tray for the customer.
"Here you go Tachibana-san. One cream stew with cheesy garlic bread." I neatly settle the food down in front of her.
"Thank you, Sawada-san! It looks great!" She smiles.
I mirror the smile, then clear the dishes next to her.
Last one- "Hiie!"
The dish slips past my fingers and falls; I surge forward to reach it and feel relief when my fingers pinch the plate rim.
My body goes lax- wait! My other hand!
Items smash, metal utensils clatter and bowls and plates break. I wince and cringe at each crash, with each sound echoing inevitable dread throughout my body. As every milli-second passes, new shards collect at my feet, sinking me deeper and deeper into despair.
… I seriously can't believe I did that.
"This…" I stir my head around and take in the entire mess. The floor was littered with broken ceramic. "... the plate…" I stare at the sole survivor in my hand. Its white luster betrays its capacity for disaster. "... I-" I should have let you drop.
"Tsuna-kun, you ok?" Tachibana-san asks. Customers quickly offer help, but I embarrassingly decline and apologize for startling them. I hurry to sweep up the mess.
I stare at the gathered shards with a sigh.
I'm so dame, huh…
I grimace and groan at my insult. Even after high school, that insult still haunts me, and now with every mistake, I can't stop making jabs at myself. I should stop…
But why stop when it's true-… let's just go back to sweeping.
I wipe the front counters while chatting with Tachibana-san. A group of youths and Tachibana-san occupy the store to fill their bellies with good booze and a tasty meal. Tachibana-san is an inspiring manga artist who recently got her big break with a historical romance. The few volumes I read are pretty good.
I glance at the clock, which reads half-past one. The night is still young. Right, did I not mention it?
The store, Midnight Diner, opens at midnight and closes at 7 AM.
It's a three-generation Izakaya with an unconventional menu: we will serve any meal a customer requests if we can make it and have the ingredients.
The family has always done it this way, and I don't plan to end the tradition. Despite the shop's operational oddities and steep culinary learning curve, things are enjoyable. I've been passionate about food since I was a kid, and the smile I bring to people is the best part of the job. Well, maybe second to eating.
"OI! SAWADA!" Like a startled cat, I jump at the yell, and the knife I hold flimsily slips from my grasp. Not again! In slow motion, I see it fall.
Fall... fall… fall a straight path toward my feet!
"Hiie!" I clumsily dodge and land flat on my rear.
Uwah! I almost lost my foot!
I give myself a moment to halt my pounding chest. With each second, it calms down but, in its place, seeps in irritation. I look up to the customer begrudgingly. Ready to yell. However, once I look at them, my scowl helplessly melts away and heedlessly morphs into a look of forgiveness.
"Onii-san, welcome."
Sasagawa Ryohei, a boxer at Namimori's boxing league.
"Oh, Sawada! Sorry about the scare. Are you hurt?" He glances at me over the counter, but before I can reply, he puts his hands on the bar and looks ready to jump. I hurry to stop him.
"It's alright!" I scramble off the ground and present myself. "I'm ok. Nothing hurts!"
He towers over me. I'm not jealous. With a lean but buff and tan build forged from years of training. Again, not jealous. Along with a natural mop of short white hair with silver coin eyes.
Ryohei suspends all movement and takes a once-over of my body before landing on my face. He searches pensively, and I try to reply with an honest gaze. His piercing silver stares me down like a dagger. We stay this way till he settles down at the bar.
Sasagawa Ryohei is one of my unique customers.
He sat right before me, a medium duffle at his feet. Upon a better look at his face, I realize a new bruise sports his left cheek.
He comes after every match.
Every time Ryohei competes in a match, with absolute certainty, he'll come to eat at my restaurant. Based on what he orders, I know whether he wins or not.
"Welcome back, Onii-san. What would you like tonight?" Though I could guess by his smile.
"Tonight, I'll have tonkatsu curry! With water!" He cheers.
The customers around me wince at his yell, but I'm used to it. With an ok, I retreat into the kitchen with a hidden smile. It looks like he won again.
Whenever he returns victorious, he'll award himself his favorite, tonkatsu with curry.
I take a sealed bag of pork loin from the fridge, and within it are two sizable cuts. I'll make Ryohei an extra as congratulations! Tonkatsu is an everyday staple at my restaurant; hence ingredients are already prepped and ready at my disposal.
The recently made curry pot is carried to the gas-top burner and a soft flame flickers with a crank of the knob. When it's set over the lit flame, I return to my kitchen station and assemble the ingredients and materials necessary for the deep-fried pork.
Going through the motions, the meat gets tenderized with small jabs and cuts and receives generous salt and pepper dust. Two flat bowls and a tray were set aside, the first with flour, the second with whisked eggs, and the last with panko. On the other side, a wok of oil heats up. I dredge the pork with flour, dip it into the eggs, gently pat it with panko, and repeat. I then switch over to the oil and start to deep-fry.
The meat crackles at contact with the scorching oil and starts to bubble. In a bit of time, the pale-yellow crumbs burn into a golden brown, and a waft of hot panko spreads. I set the tonkatsu on a rack to rest and checked the reheated curry, and with a taste, I made a satisfied smile. I gather a plate and fill it half with rice and half with the two tonkatsu. I then scoop the curry and pour it down the middle, partially covering the rice and pork.
With a satisfied sigh, I add the finishing touches to the dish. I neatly set the plates on a wooden tray and carry them over. With the first step outside, my eyes connect with Ryohei, who presents me with a dazzling smile.
"It's done! One order of tonkatsu with curry arrives!"
"OH! Thank you, Sawada!" I set the food in front of the boxer and refilled his cup. The main dish has fresh cabbage, miso soup, rice, and pickled ginger.
"You even gave me extra! Thanks!" He grins. "And Itadakimasu!" His hand claps together, and, with his chopsticks, he digs in.
"This food is extreme Sawada!" Pride swells up in me from his words.
"Thank you, Onii-san! Enjoy." And with that, I exit the kitchen to start a new order.
Two weeks pass, and Ryohei returns and sits at the bar. But unlike his previous brimming figure, he shuffles in a deflated stance. That's not a good sign.
I proceed toward the sullen male. He gently settles his duffle next to his legs and sits directly in front of me again. I try to give him my most comforting smile. However, I wonder if it got through.
"Welcome back, Onii-san. What will it be tonight?"
He fails to meet my eyes and appears glum but orders regardless. "Spicy octopus with vegetables."
I nod and start on his order.
But if he loses…
I take out a wide variety of vegetables. Onions, carrots, celery, garlic, mushrooms, and cabbage. Along with other spices and sauces.
… he'll eat the food he hates the most.
In the past, I had asked why he ordered the dish despite his blatant hatred. His answer?
"Only extreme men can eat what they want! I lost. So, I must train and win to redeem myself. If I want to eat tonkatsu, I must earn it. I must do my extreme best and win!" Or so he says.
I take out a defrosted octopus and start to clean its body. I throw it in a bowl along with flour and coarse salt. The flour should help tenderize the meat and, with the salt, get rid of the dirt. My hands' massage and mix the three ingredients, and then I give the eight-leg creature a cold rinse. With the suckers all clean like pearls, it's time for the next step.
A quick blanch is done to the octopuses, and I cut its body and tentacles into smaller pieces. Then, I create a deep red and spicy concoction with various spices and chilies. Honestly, this could kill. The smell itself makes me wince. I quickly dice onions, scallions, garlic, and other veggies. It was time for the last step with the wok hot and coated in oil.
Tossing in the vegetables, my hand stirs them quickly. The fragrant smell of each ingredient settles in the air and sticks to my body—especially the bitter snap of garlic. Afterward, I throw together the sliced seafood and thick, fiery sauce. Combining all the ingredients produces a loud sizzle. I stir and toss the ingredients around, dancing in tune with the sway of my body to become a harmonious piece. The dish is ready with a hot, peppery, pleasant aroma.
"Here you go, one order of extra hot and spicy octopus vegetable stir-fry."
I set the main dish along with some cool cucumbers and rice and walk to grab a large cup with a pitcher of milk. He's going to need it. When I return, Ryohei is in tears, sweating bullets that cling to his flushed face.
"EXTREME!" He screams and tries hard to consume the dish.
I pass him the jug, and he takes it with immense gratitude. Seriously you're too extreme. Who willingly puts themselves through this torture? I sigh.
"Onii-san do your best. If you win next time, I'll give you an extra serving of Tonkatsu curry on the house," I say as encouragement.
"Ossu! Sawada, -ank-you for- the mel-." Despite how much pain he's in with his cheeks stuffed with the dish, he returns me a swollen, red-tinted smile.
Yep. A smiling Ryohei is better.
Sasagawa Ryohei: a promising young boxer who comes to the Midnight Diner after every match.
With every win, he relishes in victory with a plate of tonkatsu curry.
With every loss, he wallows in self-doubt with a sizable serving of spicy octopus stir-fry.
Terminology:
Junmai Sake - is a Japanese sake brand.
Onii-san - means older brother.
A/N: Trust. Not the last of Royhei.