Chapter 71

Chapter 71

Change

There is one common sense about frying.

That is exactly abandoning haste and frying by taking out appropriate amounts little by little.

Usually after preheating oil to the appropriate temperature one fries so one thinks one can cook in large quantities at once, but that is in fact an illusion.

If throwing in all ingredients at once rather the oil temperature instantly drops sharply and proper frying doesn't come out.

Heat of vaporization.

When frying food ingredients the moisture inside meets hot oil and evaporates, at this time the steam generated steals the heat of the oil so the temperature lowers.

The problem is if frying at such lowered temperature the ingredients absorb a lot of oil and the batter becomes soggy, and heat doesn't penetrate to the inside so the phenomenon of not cooking partially even occurs.

Although there are differences depending on ingredients, the time one frying takes is usually 3-6 minutes.

If not considering oil temperature and thinking only time mechanically and continuously throwing in food ingredients there's no taste, it doesn't cook, and if the oil is dirty one even eats that dirty oil to the full.

It was the overall mess that was occurring in the cooking room of St. Thomas' Hospital until just now.

And that was the same for stalls that originally sold fish and chips or other fried types.

Frying is a cooking method that doesn't match mass cooking, and to make delicious frying one needs know-how that even considers such secondary elements, but since such things aren't transmitted there's no way it would be proper.

Of course somewhere there would be people who realized good cooking methods empirically and use them, but skills without theoretical backing are bound to be lost as time passes. Seeking only convenient things is human nature.

So I kindly explained this unfolded to the cooks and hospital officials.

After I return it shouldn't return to original. The effort of suffering like this disappears.

"You understand, right? So here don't fry as much as possible. No matter how hard one tries one can't find even the principal."

"There can't be..."

"John! Somehow when you fry your grandmother's fried frog tastes better!"

"What? This guy really!"

Then everyone received shock and internal division(?) occurred. Moreover there were also some people who betrayed colleagues and did confession.

In fact the frying made and eaten here the taste was also strange, and patients' reactions weren't good, but in the meantime they just thought the taste of frying was originally like that?

When bound by tradition there are times the field of vision narrows.

Because the sense of taste handed down from mother, grandmother, great-grandmother is the same, they didn't know what was wrong.

At times like this shock therapy is the best as expected.

I received new oil and made a little proper frying. Using the fishcake dough they originally made so they can compare.

"No, this is frying...?!"

"The frying we've been making until now... Ah..."

"Savory! And crispy! This is really unbelievable!"

Here the advantage of oven baking is clearly revealed.

Including preheating time the time cooking takes is roughly 20-30 minutes.

But unlike frying because one can put in several oven trays and bake at once, it was an excellent mass cooking method that rather saves time and effort.

For now during the waiting time one can just do other work like now.

While educating the cooks this and that, and properly educating them with delicious frying, the fish cakes I pushed into the oven cooked properly.

So I also spread that on the table so they can compare.

Because the cod meat used as ingredient contained fat inside, even without frying the outer surface already looked crispy like frying.

"Please taste this too. If this is more delicious replace the existing fishcake with this. Okay?"

At my words people raised their hands without hesitation. Already the armament was fully released due to the frying just now.

"Delicious!"

"Slightly spicy yet salty! Just mixing a few vegetables and this taste comes?!"

"Soft! And chewy! This is really unbelievable!"

"Let me also just one bite!"

Rustle rustle.

In an instant the cooking room became noisy like a flea market.

Colonel Ludwig and Mr. Doyle who were only watching eyes also quickly picked up forks.

"Oh... This is quite delicious! As expected Mr. Durand! Changing the taste this much with the same ingredients as the fishcake just now? I have to put this as an anecdote in the new Holmes short story collection too..."

"Really. It's unbelievable! Teacher, what on earth is this dish called?!"

"Well... Fish Ball would be about right. Anyway it's not fishcake."

I was going to call it eomuk as the original but folded that for now.

Not the flat instant fish cake sold at marts, but real properly made thick Busan-style handmade fish cake is a delicacy among delicacies where cool beer goes in endlessly.

I made expecting such a thing, but when actually making the taste was a bit different from the fish cake I thought. Ingredients were also that, cooking method also different so another taste would come out seemed but.

It wasn't failure. Rather it was good to see as somewhat success.

While bringing out the plainness and savory taste of cod, the spices that cleanly catch the aftertaste harmonized exquisitely.

Moreover the fish meat less minced due to lack of skill rather even gave chewing fun.

The outside is crispy and the texture like chewing a snack comes out, but the inside is conversely soft and moist unique fish dumpling.

Then rather calling it fish ball is better.

"Indeed! Cooking skill befitting the fame of making Durand Grilling and Chicken and Chips! As expected London's best chef!"

The reaction seems a bit exaggerated...?

What on earth foods did everyone eat and live usually that they become devastated by one simple fish cake oven bake like this?! And London's best chef is not me but Mr. Escoffier!

And with my sharp hearing Colonel Ludwig's small muttering sound was also caught together.

"Fish Ball! Ingredients can also be obtained cheaply and even making is convenient! If one can spread this as patient food to all hospitals in London... No, it seems one can also utilize as combat rations in the field... When returning to headquarters propose to the Chief of Staff..."

Using this as patient food or combat rations is fine. Because I taught to do so.

But the people's reactions being enthusiastic more than thought bothered a bit.

If just leaving won't someone attach a name like 'Durand Fish Ball' and spread?!

Even now attaching strange names like 'Durand Barbecue' or 'Grilling' to samgyeopsal and riding unnecessary fame, more troublesome matters occurring here was absolutely hateful!

So I decided to definitely get a promise from the people who were mindlessly eating fish cake.

"You can't say I came and went here today! And absolutely don't say I created this dish! You must remember! This is just ordinary Fish Ball. Understand?!"

"Yes!"

"Understood, teacher!"

"Hey! This greedy guy! If you already eat all that what do you do?!"

"What does it matter! The teacher informed the easy making method! Just make again!"

"Then you prepare quickly!"

Did they hear properly?! I absolutely can't be at ease? Moreover isn't that patient food? If you all eat it what will you give to the patients?!

Then my gaze turned to the tasteless fishcake that had completely become cold rice now.

Although a failed dish, in this era even that was regrettable to throw away.

Because material-wise it was much better than rye bread with Golden Syrup.

So I called a hospital official and whispered something in his ear.

Seeing his eyes widen and him running out in a hurry Mr. Doyle became curious.

"Mr. Durand, what on earth did you say that that person runs like that?"

"Ah, it's nothing special. I informed a method of thriftily recycling the remaining fishcake. They made so much and it's regrettable to throw away. So it seems they're going to get permission from higher up."

"Not throwing away?!"

"Why throw away? It's a dish they've been eating well until now."

It was to improve low-quality cooking methods, not words to treat the dish they prepared well until just now as food waste in an instant!

"But is reuse possible...? It's already all fried."

"Yes, potato and cod don't match as frying, but if making as hospital food it's not that utilization is completely impossible."

It's nothing special.

I just told them to finely crush the made fishcake and make chowder.

If using all that amount it might become stew not soup?

"Chowder! I've heard the name but never eaten once. Isn't it soup mainly Cornwall origin people eat? I'm curious about the taste!"

"...I'll make you a more proper chowder later so don't regain appetite. That is just low quality."

"It's a promise!"

If putting minced fish and potato with white roux and milk and boiling thoroughly a soup of plausible taste comes out.

That's exactly chowder. Because of the name and cooking method I thought it was British food originated from France but up to there I don't know well.

Chowder is easy to make and taste is okay so a food quite popular in modern America. In Korea there were also often restaurants that used clams instead of fish meat called clam chowder.

If just matching the lacking seasoning with pepper it would transform to somehow edible?

In fact boiling curry putting instant curry powder is a better choice, but still Indian cooking is high-end cooking only middle class and above can eat so I didn't propose up to there.

Anyway leaving the kitchen that fell into chaos like that, we quietly left the place.

Hoping with this patients can have a plentiful meal for about a day.

In front of the hospital I also said farewell to the colonel. He said work ended and he's returning to navy headquarters. The expression looks somehow urgent is it not my illusion?!

Soon I boarded the waiting carriage together with Mr. Doyle.

"Mr. Doyle, is today's walk up to here? There's no more place to stop by, right?"

"Yes, since I promised to treat dinner I'll take you to a decent restaurant. But since time is still a bit early, would you like to stop by a coffee house and have a cup of coffee? It's afternoon tea time."

Hmm. What to do?

Time was a bit ambiguous, but after wandering all day going to some new place was also bothersome.

Then suddenly the scene of Colonel Ludwig first confusing me with someone came to mind.

Just looking at the colonel glossing over again it seems certain he exchanged some talk with Princess Alice.

The unidentified European royal man who was together with Princess Louise 7 years ago.

At the time Princess Alice was young and didn't know well, but if her father the talk was different.

If knowing one he'd know more. He'd also know the subtle internal circumstances of the royal family well.

After returning to London I continued to be involved in incidents and forgot, but in the end the time to unravel the thread of that incident seemed to have come.

Let's go home. Go and talk a bit more with parents.

So I proposed to Mr. Doyle.

"Mr. Doyle, isn't the stage of Holmes Baker Street?"

"It was."

"By any chance do you know the fact that Baker Street has changed considerably in the meantime?"

"Has it? I haven't been lately so I didn't know. In fact I'm not origin from that side."

"Yes, it changed a lot. In that regard won't you go look around Baker Street once more? I also want to stop by home after a long time and the distance is close just in time."

"Shall we? For a sense of the field prior investigation is also needed. Understood. The original Chicken and Chips was also just in time appealing. Let's go."

He also readily agreed.

From St. Thomas' Hospital crossing the Thames River and going up a little more north there was exactly Baker Street.

When explaining the way to the coachman he immediately turned the direction.

Beyond the Thames River Westminster Palace and the high rising Big Ben slowly started entering the field of view.

By the way I'm curious. Whether the cooks will use the recipe I informed well...?

I resolved that if meeting Colonel Ludwig again later I'll definitely ask.

###

Limp, limp.

Davis headed to the hospital cafeteria relying on crutches.

And as always he watched with empty eyes the appearance of nurses busily pushing serving carts.

He was a disabled soldier.

He participated in the South African war and after losing consciousness from a sudden explosion sound when opening eyes it was the middle of a field hospital.

Throb.

He briefly endured the pain that suddenly surged from the thigh. Even with the strong morphine he receives every day sometimes when intense pain surges cold sweat comes out on the back.

Fortunately his situation was on the better side. In the situation where someone loses an arm or leg and hovers between life and death, he ended with about a span of thigh meat going out from bomb fragments.

But if there's fortune there's also misfortune.

Being infected with malaria at the field hospital was the misfortune among misfortunes.

Patients who can't move, blood smell spread everywhere, poor hygiene environment and shoddy temporary building. A party place that was endlessly good for malaria mosquitoes.

There was no specific medicine either.

He was prescribed a medicine called quinine, but already after symptoms progressed a lot.

He barely saved his life experiencing high fever, headache, muscle pain throughout the body to anemia and jaundice, but as the price suffered extreme physical decline.

So even after returning to London riding the troop transport ship, he still didn't recover and had to receive rehabilitation treatment at St. Thomas' Hospital.

The hospital was terrible.

Other things aside the food was really tasteless.

This was something even the fellow soldiers who were discharged together with him all agreed.

He missed the local food full of spices he ate in South Africa. The taste of food that soldiers origin from India or Malay Peninsula shared also absolutely couldn't be forgotten.

Although it was food shared in the saturation of the battlefield so it was poor... Still it was much better than the terrible fishcake eaten after returning to Britain.

To the point there were even colleagues who said they'd settle locally even after discharge because of that.

But as the topic of getting food for free at the hospital it wasn't easy to complain either.

Because if blurting dissatisfaction and being kicked out of the hospital there was no place to go.

Davis knew how to do that level of discernment. Then suddenly feeling a presence from the other side of the corridor he turned his head.

'Ah, that person... The princess came today too!'

Because he discovered the appearance of a beautiful-faced noble young lady slowly approaching together with a few nurses.

They were chattering about the greatness of some dish. I don't know what but between the words unknown words like 'Jean' or 'Durand' were mixed and heard.

'Jean? Durand? Who on earth is that?'

It was a word he who was in South Africa for nearly 1 year and even after returning to Britain continued to be bedridden couldn't understand.

Bow.

Anyway he stopped in place and politely lowered his head.

She also received his greeting and lightly lowered her head, and soon disappeared to the other side of the field of view.

Occasionally there were cases of young ladies origin from royal or noble families coming out to volunteer at the hospital saying they'll practice noblesse oblige.

Most ended at simple consolation or encouragement, but there were also rarely people who like the princess actually took on the nurse role and organized patients' sheets or distributed simple medicine.

It was truly a thankful matter.

While trembling the body soaked in emotion, a delicious smell that flowed in from somewhere stimulated the tip of the nose.

"Huh? Delicious smell comes from this hospital?"

There's no way the food given at this hospital has taste?

Davis hurriedly headed to the cafeteria. Differently from usual the cafeteria was full of vitality.

Noisy.

The cafeteria was bustling with nearly a hundred discharged soldiers.

Most were familiar faces. But until yesterday everyone was dead-faced?

"What? What happened?!"

It was a space always immersed in gloom.

What changed was only one.

In front of people laughing and chattering cleanly emptied plates were piled up abundantly.

It wasn't difficult to guess what was in the plates.

Because here and there people were hurriedly pushing yellowish dumplings and soup into their mouths.

And Davis also discovered the face of a colleague who every day complained wanting to return to South Africa because he missed food so much among them.

"Delicious! Delicious! What magic did you cast on this fish?! This is cod, right?!"

"It seems the god of cooking briefly visited the kitchen! I'll have to ask once later!"

"If only able to eat such things every day hospital life is also doable!"

It was a scene hard to see usually.

How delicious was the food on earth?!

Gulp.

Davis also hurriedly moved the crutches and headed to the serving station.

In front of the serving station one nurse was shouting in a hoarse voice.

"Don't cut in line! There aren't many leftovers! Absolutely no second serving! Line up in order! It's the Fish Ball recipe the famous chef Jean-Paul Durand directly conveyed! I'll make it again next week too so stop pushing a bit!"