WeTried Translations

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Chapter 92: Chuseok in Sebeomgol (1)

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October 4, 1933.

On Hangawi itself, Middle Hamlet had been bustling since dawn.

The Han household most of all. Nearly everyone in the village had gathered before daybreak to prepare for the holiday.

There was plenty of room for them. The yard alone was four times larger than it had been before the typhoon.

There had originally been no physical space to expand it, but Han San had led the restoration of Middle Hamlet.

Once the other houses had been rearranged here and there, they had been able to enlarge the yard, the kitchen, the main house, everything. Even roof tiles had gone up, until it looked no different from the grand home of some great family.

"Only now can we say this house is worthy of being the House of the Taste Magistrate, Mother."

Han San said it with a distant look, and Ham Ssang-sim, hands clasped behind her back in the manner of a master, answered him.

"That's right. My son has gone and taken top honors in the taste civil service exam, hasn't he?"

Mother and son gilded each other's faces with praise.

Sadly, there was no one present to raise the question, [If this grand house was built with money and power, isn't it buying office and selling rank rather than passing first in the civil service exam?]

Instead, Mrs. Choi came running out of the kitchen.

"Young man San! Sister Ssangsim! They're fighting again!"

The mother and son of the House of the Taste Magistrate exchanged one look at their freshly gilded faces, then went into the kitchen.

The kitchen was a battlefield. Nearly every housewife in Middle Hamlet had gathered to prepare the holiday food, and just as Mrs. Choi had said, a fierce fight had broken out.

"Why are you mincing all that good meat like you've met your mortal enemy? It's loud, it's making a mess of my head, and it's such a waste of meat!"

"Are you sure that's even food, sister? Why does it smell so musty?"

"Ah, stop it, all of you! Fine, you people can eat whatever you make among yourselves, but why are you seasoning this like that? Honestly, what strange people."

"What!? What did you just say? Are you picking a fight with our hometown now!?"

One had to understand the times.

There were no television programs touring famous restaurants, and cookbooks were hard to come by. Recipes were passed down from mother-in-law to daughter-in-law, then spread to the homes where that family's daughters married. That was nearly the only route by which cooking knowledge traveled.

In those days, home cooking depended entirely on the hands and taste of each household's women.

And Sebeom Valley was a refuge for people who had drifted in from all across the peninsula, each carrying their own stories. Their tastes were not merely different. Dishes that were ordinary in one household were often things another household had never even heard of.

Now all those people had gathered in one place to cook together.

Friction was inevitable.

Still, the mistress of the Han household was one of Sebeom Valley's three great sharp tongues.

"Quiet down, all of you! Why are you screaming at the crack of dawn on Hangawi morning!?

"When you went up to Upper Hamlet to prepare for the holidays, you kept your mouths shut tight. So where do you get off coming to my house and yapping like this!? You're collecting your work payment just fine, so do you think the House of the Taste Magistrate is some easy mark!?"

Once Ham Ssang-sim established order, the three women, who had been seconds away from lashing each other with kimchi, shut their mouths with a flinch.

At the same time, the same question rose in all three of their minds.

'What in the world is the House of the Taste Magistrate?'

Han San quickly stepped in then. Naturally, he did not explain what the House of the Taste Magistrate was.

"Now, now. There are a lot of things here that none of you have eaten before. Even when it's the same dish, each of you has your own way of making it.

"I know you're all on edge because you've been working hard since morning, but you know what they say. Seeing something a hundred times isn't as good as eating it once.

"First, make the dishes and try them. Even the same dishes, why don't you each make them your own way and taste them?

"Let's settle this with flavor. Like the House of the Taste Magistrate should."

'I'm asking what the House of the Taste Magistrate even is??'

Their question remained unanswered, but with Madam Ham holding the center and Han San offering a solution, the women quickly went along with it.

"Oh, this is good. I thought you only minced the tough cuts you couldn't chew, but if you mince a cut you could grill and pan-fry it, it tastes like this. If I hadn't tried it, I might never have known. I'd have gone to my grave too stingy with meat to ever make it."

"And this thing you brought, sister. When else would I ever have gotten to eat something like it? It's chewy and sour, but it's good."

"For me, seasoning it the way you two do changes the flavor completely..."

Taste was one of the strongest instincts. Likes and dislikes were clear-cut, and so were good and bad. Women who had cooked at home all their lives could tell the difference as if by instinct.

Before long, a warm mood filled the kitchen.

"Our son is so handsome, and he's so good at settling people down... He's a General of Taste, a General of Taste. He's mastered both the civil and martial arts of flavor, our son has."

"Oh, it's nothing. More importantly, Mother, why don't we have someone write down all the things people have mentioned?"

"That's exactly right! There'll be many more times people gather at our house, and if we do that, there won't be any reason to fight..."

Ham Ssang-sim clapped as she spoke, but Han San had another aim as well.

'There could be treasure hidden in there, couldn't there?'

Knowledge was precious in those days.

The regressor had lived long enough to grow old, had cooked for himself while living as a bachelor, and above all had lived in the future. He knew well the value of recipes.

'They said successful restaurants in Seoul in the seventies and eighties charged ten million won for the right to pass down their so-called secret seasonings.'

A scrap of paper with a few words written on it had cost ten million won. Recipes really were that valuable.

Still, the people of Middle Hamlet were not yet soaked in capitalism enough to think that far, and Han San was Middle Hamlet's lord.

"Wow, Mrs. Choi's kimchi really was good. So that was the secret. Mrs. Park is good at making pancakes too. You two should put your heads together and make some kimchi pancakes. Use pork fat.

"Mrs. Shin, I heard you came from Kaesong. They say pork dishes are famous there.

"And Mrs. Lee..."

Under Han San's direction, every bit of cooking knowledge held by Middle Hamlet's women was drawn out and shared. In that warm atmosphere, all the know-how gathered from the eight provinces was absorbed into the House of the Taste Magistrate.

"Our Sebeom Valley was built by everyone joining forces, wasn't it? Let's join forces to prepare the ancestral rite meal too!"

Han San was even skilled at making all of it sound like a good deed.

'And it is a good deed, isn't it? What secret recipe? Does it make any sense to charge ten million won for a single seasoning?

'Anyway, isn't that attitude of claiming shapeless things as your own and treating sharing as an enemy what holds society's development back?'

The old man who had regressed before seeing the nineties had a weak sense of respecting intellectual property rights.

'Oh, Mrs. Kim is good at chicken dishes. Doesn't this seasoning look a little like dakgalbi[1]?

'I was already wondering if there was anything else I could sell in Chuncheon, and here's one idea. Chuncheon means dakgalbi. But there definitely wasn't Chuncheon dakgalbi until before the war, just like Sokcho fried chicken doesn't exist yet.'

Han San recalled catching part of a television special on Chuncheon dakgalbi in his past life. Thanks to the sharpened memory his regression had given him, he could remember all the seasoning proportions shown on it as well.

Of course, it had been made for broadcast, so the so-called secret ingredients would have been left out. But what if he adjusted it by adding the seasoning Mrs. Kim had just used?

'I'll introduce dakgalbi to Chuncheon for the first time in this era. The original dakgalbi restaurant, in the truest sense. Once it gets famous, decades later, after the Republic of Korea is established and the economy develops, I'll make several seasoning blends and sell them for money forever. Maybe charge ten million won each?

'Anyway, a culture that respects intangible property like knowledge has to take root before people start thinking and society can develop, doesn't it?'

The old man who had regressed before seeing the nineties had a thorough sense of respecting intellectual property rights.

The years before the nineties were free to feel a little wronged now.

In any case.

"The braised short ribs are ready! They're sweet and came out well! I never thought I'd live to see the day I could use honey, grain syrup, and sugar in cooking without holding back!"

"We've finished seasoning the namul[2] here! Tell the hungry people to take some rice and mix it in first while they wait! The sour taste will get their appetites going!"

As knowledge was shared and the women of Middle Hamlet joined hands, dishes poured out without end. Their variety and flavor were more than worthy of the name House of the Taste Magistrate.

Han San was deeply moved.

"Now the House of the Taste Magistrate has become one not just in appearance, but in substance too, Mother..."

"Is this a dream or waking life... But Son, the path of taste is long and harsh. Never forget that there is only diligent striving, and then more diligent striving."

"I'll keep it in mind, Mother."

"Good."

That was when the mother and son were standing there with their hands behind their backs, laying it on thick.

"Han Sajang! And Madam Ham, Madam Grand Sajang... Ah, what in hell is a Madam Grand Sajang supposed to be, anyway?"

Pi Sun-dae of Lower Hamlet walked into the yard.

"Oh! Brother Sundae!"

Han San smiled and waved. Before he knew it, he and this gangster gentleman, who had tried to shake him down the moment Han San suggested the tavern business, had become close enough to greet each other like this.

"What brings you here?"

"There's a man called Ham Byeong-cheol looking for your Madam Grand Sajang. Says he came from Wonsan."

Ham Ssang-sim's expression changed at once.

"What! Without even sending word... Well, it is Chuseok... Even so..."

Han San raised one eyebrow at his mother's reaction, then a light came on in his memory.

[Are you San? I'm your cousin!]

The face of a man with especially prominent front teeth passed through his mind. He had been a relative from his mother's side who had come around this time during the previous Chuseok too.

The things that so-called cousin later went on to do also flashed through Han San's mind, but he smiled and said to his mother,

"Mother, go meet him."

For once, Ham Ssang-sim lowered her head and hesitated.

"Meet him for what... You can tell just by looking that he didn't come for anything good..."

"Come on. It's Chuseok. Instead of spending this year's Chuseok, which only comes once, in the place he lives, he came all this way to our village. You should meet him."

His words seemed to help Ham Ssang-sim make up her mind. Then she paused, looking toward the busy kitchen.

Han San saw that and called out with a smile.

"Ah, Mr. Go! You're here at last! Why are you so late? Go take charge of the kitchen for us!"

"Hey! I wasn't born to be a che-ef, you know? I'm really more of a fi-nan-cial sort of person..."

Go Tae-chon, who had entered behind Pi Sun-dae with some hesitation, thrust out his chest at Han San's call and headed into the kitchen.

That left Ham Ssang-sim with no excuse to keep avoiding it. She looked at her son with a complicated expression.

"Son. No matter what he says, I absolutely..."

"Why worry about it already? If anything comes up, just tell me comfortably. I'll decide what we do, all right?"

When Han San winked one eye, a smile finally returned to Ham Ssang-sim's face.

"...All right, Son."

Ham Ssang-sim went to get ready to go out.

In that brief time, Go Tae-chon had already seized control of the kitchen, starting with the housewives whose teamwork he had tested at the Modern Bar Special Mackerel Shop.

"Well, damn. That bastard had a talent like that?"

Pi Sun-dae clicked his tongue. He looked as though he could not believe he had known Go Tae-chon for years without realizing it.

The funny thing was, Han San clicked his tongue beside him too.

"Right? I'm shocked too."

"Why are you shocked? Weren't you the one who recognized that bastard's talent, Han Sajang?"

"Recognized it, my ass. ...Ha, but why hasn't he still... Han Family Code, Article One..."

As Han San muttered that and smacked his lips, Pi Sun-dae suddenly felt uneasy and took a step back.

Unaware of any of that, Go Tae-chon shouted.

"Bring more meat over here!"

Right. Meat.

Ingredients could not be left out if they were going to keep the House of the Taste Magistrate's kitchen running. Meat most of all.

"Come see! Come see!"

In the Han estate's yard, two female wild boars of similar size were tied up side by side.

"Aren't these wild boars magnificent! Just like autumn wild boars, they've eaten richly and put on plump, juicy flesh! Our Han's Myriad Commerce Sajang and Grand Sajang caught them together!"

The bushy chin of Han's Myriad Commerce's Grand Sajang, Han Man-seok, tilted up slightly. Following his son's advice, he had started cutting back on smoking, and a twig sat between his lips instead of a tobacco pipe.

"Which side will break down those wild boars faster and more accurately! The challengers are right here!

"Who calls me a pig! Do not call me by the name of my enemy! Let us kill pigs, Chuk Hyeong-don!

"There are principles of yin and yang in butchering, and the order of the five elements! The god of butchering descends upon us, Chuk Jun-ha!

"Contestants, take your places!"

Chuk Hyeong-don and Chuk Jun-ha each stood before one of the wild boars.

The gathered villagers cheered.

"Whew! It looks like there are four wild boars!"

"How impressive!"

It bore repeating, this was an era when even television was hard to find. People were starved for entertainment.

And now a pig-butchering show was taking place in the middle of the Han household!

"Begin!"

At Chuk Myeong-su's signal from where he was acting as host, the butcher's knives began to dance.

Who were the Chuk Brothers? They were Hyeongpyeongsa members who had risen up to call for an end to discrimination against the butcher class, the Red Butchers. Red was only an adjective. Butcher was the true noun.

Skills worthy of that noun were displayed without reservation.

In an instant, the hides came off and the ribs were separated. Forelegs and hind legs came away in a flash.

"Wow, what a sight!"

"The way those knives go in is incredible!"

Cheers burst out every time a butcher's knife cut in, and Hyeong-don and Jun-ha's faces were flushed red.

In an age when butcher's work was seen as lowly, the whole village had its eyes fixed on the hands of men who had chosen red because they could no longer bear that age.

People prejudiced against butchers? Of course there were some. But in Sebeom Valley, almost all such people lived in Upper Hamlet.

There were a few in Middle Hamlet too, of course, but as they had already heard Middle Hamlet's songs several times, even those who pretended to be dignified and cleared their throats were squinting as they stole glances.

Then, click, flash!!

A magnesium flash went off, and Hajama Tsuchikaku captured the thrilling scene with his portable camera.

"This isn't simple butchering. Han San, it's a matsuri[3] you prepared for the villagers!"

"It's a holiday. It'd be nice if people could have some fun. They say we're a people who know how to enjoy ourselves."

Looking around at his delighted subjects, the lord of Middle Hamlet grinned.

Footnotes:

[1] Dakgalbi is a Chuncheon-associated Korean dish of marinated chicken stir-fried with vegetables and seasonings.

[2] Namul refers to Korean vegetable side dishes, usually seasoned and served as accompaniments to rice.

[3] Matsuri is a Japanese community festival, often associated with a shrine, season, or local tradition.

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