Who Is the World’s Strongest Appraiser? ~Living in Another World With Satisfying Meals~

A “Fake Namul” Using Granulated Dashi

Yuuri, who managed to create granulated dashi in this other world, had a dish he had always wanted to make. That dish was namul. Though Yuuri had never tasted authentic Korean namul before, this “fake namul” was something he made based on knowledge gathered online. Even so, it was well-received by his family when he made it at home and served well both as a side dish and a snack to go with drinks, making him eager to try it again.

Originally, namul was traditionally made with bean sprouts or mountain vegetables, but Yuuri paid no mind to such rules. He simply prepared it with whatever ingredients he craved. This spirit of Japanese “makaizo”—creative modification—was evident here as well. Or perhaps it could be said that the Japanese were simply adept at accepting diverse elements and making them their own. …The truth may be best left unsaid.

“First, we’ll start with prepping the cucumbers.”

“Okay.”

The cucumber prep, which takes the most time, is tackled first. At Yuuri’s words, Camille, in charge of cooking today, gave a noncommittal-sounding reply. Meanwhile, the other apprentices were busy working on their assigned tasks. In truth, making namul required quite a bit of granulated dashi, so it was easier to work when Magg wasn’t around…to prevent complete annihilation from taste testing.

Setting that aside, the cucumber prep began. Washing them, removing the ends, and cutting them into chunks—big enough to eat easily but not too large or too small. Then, they were placed in a bowl and salted, leaving them to draw out moisture. This process is called “salt pressing,” which prevents the cucumbers from failing to absorb the flavors properly.

“How long should we leave this?”

“For now, let’s move on to other tasks and come back to it.”

“Isn’t this step pointless since we’re seasoning it anyway?”

“Nope. If excess water remains, the flavors will be diluted, and the cucumbers might retain a raw, green taste. It’s essential for good flavor.”

“Got it.”

Leaving the cucumbers to drain excess water, the next step was prepping bean sprouts, komatsuna, and carrots. All three needed to be boiled. The bean sprouts were washed and any damaged or dirty pieces were removed before being tossed into a pot of boiling water. They cooked quickly, and once their color changed, they were strained in a colander to drain.

Next up was komatsuna. Careful not to separate the stems, only the lowest roots were trimmed. After washing, they were boiled. Some people prefer cutting vegetables before boiling, but Yuuri belonged to the “boil first, then cut” camp—simply because it was easier to drain without the pieces scattering everywhere. No deeper reason.

Komatsuna was boiled with a pinch of salt. Care had to be taken not to overcook, which would render it mushy. Ideally, the leaves should turn a vibrant green. Still, the stems needed a longer cook, so occasional checks were necessary. When ready, the komatsuna was strained like the sprouts and left to cool before further cutting.

Carrots were finely julienned, much like for kinpira dishes. Yuuri’s method involved slicing them into thin planks, stacking them, and cutting them into fine matchsticks—an easy trick for quick julienne. No magic to it—sorry. Once cut, the carrots were blanched and strained. Namul dishes, being meant for immediate consumption, required such preliminary steps to ensure the vegetables were adequately prepared.

“Yuuri, everything’s ready. What next?”

“Now, we remove the moisture.”

“Understood.”

The bean sprouts were squeezed by hand, the komatsuna was cut into bite-sized pieces before squeezing, and the carrots were shaken in a colander to remove excess water. Finally, any water collected from the cucumbers was discarded.

The next step was to coat each ingredient in sesame oil to lock in moisture, then add granulated dashi and mix thoroughly. Adjustments could be made with salt or soy sauce as needed. Yuuri often winged the measurements using store-bought dashi base as a reference.

Currently, in this other world, he had an assortment of granulated dashi made from kelp, dried bonito, chicken bones from magical creatures, beef bones, and even pork bones from orc-like monsters. His approach remained ever-consistent, regardless of the setting.

“Let’s start with the bean sprouts. Mix in the sesame oil first.”

“Why sesame oil first?”

“To prevent moisture from seeping out during mixing.”

“Does sesame oil really do that?”

“Yeah, it creates a barrier around the vegetables, keeping excess water in check.”

“Interesting.”

Once the sprouts were evenly coated with sesame oil, he added the Japanese-style granulated dashi. Eyeballing quantities, Yuuri kept things flexible—too salty? Add more sprouts. Too bland? Adjust with more dashi, salt, or soy sauce. Simple home-cooking.

Tasting and adjusting, the sprouts were left to marinate, letting the flavors deepen.

“This feels like something you’d end up eating nonstop.”

“True. It’s great as a side or a snack.”

“Bet Magg would devour it all.”

“…I can’t deny that.”

Yuuri averted his gaze, especially as this particular namul was flavored with Magg’s favorite kelp dashi. For reasons unknown, Magg couldn’t resist anything made with kelp—an unsolved mystery.

Next, he moved on to carrot namul. After mixing with sesame oil, Yuuri opted for a pork bone-based seasoning. Pure instinct—would it be tasty? Only one way to find out. Cooking often came down to inspiration.

“This tastes like stir-fried meat.”

“Must be the orc bone umami.”

“Think it’d be good wrapped in meat, like that cold shabu-shabu?”

“Good idea. Let’s try that sometime.”

“Sure.”