Chapter Five
CHAPTER FIVE
What kind of man do I strike you as?
As soon as Michel had uttered those words in his rich, buttery voice, her mind had gleefully reminded her that she’d imagined him racing across a sandy beach on a dark stallion, his sculpted chest glistening with sweat from the exertion… Wait . He was wearing a billowing white shirt in her original daydream. Apparently, not anymore. The wind must have blown it off along the way.
Emma continued to stir the sauce to dissolve the brown sugar and fanned her face with her other hand. Her kitchen was unusually warm today. She sighed as man and beast galloped down the beach in her mind, his muscles shifting and bunching impressively. She had no idea if Michel actually had muscles that shifted and bunched. But from the way he’d filled out his shirt, she was fairly certain they existed.
“Emma?”
“Hmm?” she said distractedly before remembering she was in the middle of a lesson. Oh, for God’s sake. It was as though her mind had developed a personality of its own—a remarkably lustful personality. “Yes, Sarah?”
“How can ddeokbokki be a part of royal court cuisine?” her client asked, stirring her own sauce. “It’s the street food staple in Korea.”
They stood shoulder to shoulder at the counter. Emma couldn’t help but notice how cramped it felt during these lessons. This was definitely a one-person kitchen. Once she leased a commercial kitchen, she’d have plenty of room to move around and demonstrate techniques. She couldn’t wait to teach group classes, filling the kitchen with all their excited energy. Soon .
“Well, what sets gungjung ddeokbokki apart from the spicy rice cakes sold on the streets is this sauce we’re making.” Emma lifted the small bowl of sauce and inhaled the sweet, salty, and nutty aroma. Her mouth watered on cue. “Korean royal court cuisine is defined by its subtle, nuanced flavors. The seasoning complements and enhances the natural flavors of the ingredients. It’s all about harmony and balance.”
“Ah.” Sarah nodded. “So we’re using soy sauce and toasted sesame oil instead of gochujang because the red chili paste can overpower the delicate flavor of the rice cakes.”
“Exactly.” Emma beamed at her favorite pupil.
It was such a thrill to teach someone so smart and eager to learn, especially since Sarah wasn’t one of Auntie Soo’s referrals. Not that there was anything wrong with the brides-in-training. It just made Emma happy that Sarah was someone who wanted to learn about Korean royal court cuisine purely for the joy of cooking.
“Today, we’re using julienned beef brisket for the dish.” Emma brought the meat they’d prepared earlier out from the refrigerator and gingerly balanced it on the narrow counter space beside the stove. “But when you’re at home, you can use pre-marinated bulgogi in a pinch.”
Emma gave Sarah shortcuts whenever possible because she worked as a teaching assistant to a demanding philosophy profes sor at USC while she obtained her master’s degree there. Even though cooking was Sarah’s happy place, she sometimes had to resort to instant noodles and fast food out of sheer necessity.
Having originated in the Joseon dynasty to nourish the royal family, Korean royal court cuisine didn’t exactly make for easy, weeknight meals. So shortcuts it was. Any kind of home-cooked meal was better than fast food.
“Awesome.” Sarah pumped her fist. “My mom fills my freezer with little bundles of bulgogi whenever she visits.”
“Korean moms are masters at feeding their children.” Her college roommate’s mom used to do the same thing and always made sure that there was enough for Emma, too. She chased away the twinge of sadness—her mom’s absence motivated her to learn to marinate her own bulgogi—and smiled brightly. “And their friends.”
“I wonder if there are any other cultures where have you eaten is a form of greeting.”
“It’s the Korean I love you .” Emma winked.
“Oh my gosh.” Sarah snorted. “That is so true.”
“Okay. The gungjung ddeokbokki isn’t going to cook itself.” Emma turned on the front burner of her stove, setting it to medium-high heat, and watched her client mimic her on the next burner. “Add a swirl of oil to the frying pan.”
“A swirl? Not a splash?” Sarah said with wide-eyed innocence. “Are you positive it isn’t a drizzle?”
“A tablespoon of oil, smart aleck.” Emma hip bumped Sarah. She gave her clients exact measurements for the recipes, but she herself never used measuring tools. She kind of knew how much of what her dishes needed. “One swirl around the pan usually comes out to about a tablespoon.”
“I’ll try it next time.” Sarah measured out the oil. “I’m too chicken to eyeball something with a new recipe.”
Emma added the small strips of marinated beef into the hot pan, and Sarah did the same in her own pan. Once the meat was nicely browned, they added the sliced bell peppers, onions, and green onions.
“The rice cake goes in last because these are fresh and will take no time to cook.” Emma added the ddeok into the pan. “With the dried kind, soak it in water first, then put it in once the meat is browned.”
“Got it.” Sarah nodded and breathed in the aroma. “I’m drooling. This smells so delicious.”
“Well, it’s done,” Emma said after a few minutes. She plated a small portion, sprinkling some sesame seeds and chopped scallions on top. “Ready for a taste test?”
Glancing at Emma’s sample, Sarah plated her ddeokbokki and garnished it. They each picked up a rice cake with their chopsticks and took a careful bite. It was soft and chewy, and sweet and savory. A perfect harmony of textures and flavors.
“Wonderful, isn’t it?” Emma smiled.
“Heavenly.” Her happy client sighed before taking another bite.
There . She had helped create a moment of joy for Sarah—helped her slow down and smell the… well, the gungjung ddeokbokki. That was the most meaningful, satisfying part of her job. And that was why Emma was so impatient to start her culinary school. She wanted to help more people nurture happiness in their lives.
“Save some for dinner.” Emma opened a kitchen cabinet and reached for a reusable container. “We’ll pack up the rest for you to take home.”
“Oh no.” Sarah palmed her forehead. “I forgot to bring back the containers from our last lesson. I have them washed and everything.”
“Don’t worry about it. I have plenty. You can return them next time.” Emma lined up the finger-size rice cakes in the con tainer and artfully interspersed the perfectly browned marinated meat and fragrant vegetables over them. “Here, you try packing up the rest.”
Sarah placed the last of the rice cakes in the container and sprinkled scallions and toasted sesame seeds on top. “I won’t be able to concentrate in class, knowing that this beauty is waiting for me at home.”
“Great job today.” Emma began tidying up the counter as her client packed up to leave, but her hands stilled when she heard her dad out in the hallway.
“Soo, what a lovely surprise,” he said with a smile in his voice. “Come in. Come in.”
“Hello, old friend.” Her godmother sounded a bit distracted. “Is Emma home? She wasn’t answering my texts, so I figured she must be in the middle of a lesson.”
Emma swallowed and pulled out her cell phone from her apron pocket. She had silenced it for the lesson. After a calming breath, she unlocked her screen. Eleven unread texts from Auntie Soo. Her stomach dropped. It might have nothing to do with her matseon from last night. Maybe her godmother wanted to see her one and only goddaughter because she missed her.
“Yes, she should be finishing up right now,” her dad said as Emma finished putting the used pans and utensils in the sink. She strained to hear their conversation in the hallway with a distracted smile at Sarah, who hefted her backpack onto one shoulder.
“Oh, good. I need a word with her.” Her godmother sounded like she meant business—the ass-whooping kind.
“Is everything okay?” Her dad was probably leading Auntie Soo to the living room, because her answer was too soft to decipher.
“Ready to go?” Emma turned to her client.
“Yup.” She seemed to deflate. “Time to go grade a pile of midterm papers.”
“Good luck with that. And don’t let the Sphinx intimidate you.” The Sphinx was the not-so-affectionate nickname the students had bestowed on Sarah’s supervising professor.
“Down with the Sphinx.” She pumped her fist in the air and laughed. “Bye, Emma.”
After closing the front door behind her, Emma pulled her shoulders back and headed for the living room. How bad could it be? She sighed. It could be bad. Like really bad. Angry Auntie Soo was so freaking scary.
“Imo”—Emma burst into the living room with a cheek-cramping smile—“what brings you here at this time of day?”
Auntie Soo looked as placid as a midnight lake, sitting on the couch with her hands folded over her thighs. Maybe she wasn’t angry? But her dad met her gaze with wide, frightened eyes and gave a subtle shake of his head. A warning. Emma gulped.
“Does anyone want a snack?” Emma said with even more forced cheer. “I have some gungjung ddeokbokki in the kitchen.”
“Gungjung ddeokbokki?” Her dad shot to his feet and matched her infomercial voice. “That sounds fantastic. We should all head to the kitchen and enjoy a first-rate afternoon snack.”
“Jae, why don’t you go ahead and start without us?” The very evenness of her godmother’s voice sent a trill of fear down Emma’s spine.
“I… I have to plate it for him,” Emma squeaked.
Auntie Soo kept her gaze on Emma’s dad. “You’re capable of transferring some rice cakes onto a plate, right?”
“Certainly.” Her dad nodded and kept nodding.
In all honesty, Emma wasn’t sure her dad could plate his own ddeokbokki. At least, not properly. Plating involved more than just transferring some food onto a plate. Her godmother knew that. The fact that she acted so dismissive of the fact meant she was mad. Like really mad.
“But…” Emma bit her lip.
“It’s just one snack, Emma.” Auntie Soo’s expression softened a fraction. “Your dad doesn’t need to be presented with a work of art every time he sits down to eat.”
“Your godmother’s right.” Her dad’s eyes roamed her face with heartrending love and sadness. Emma didn’t want to parse out what that meant. “I’ll be fine, my dear.”
Even so, her dad stood rooted to his spot in front of the sofa. Only when Emma nodded and mouthed I’ll be okay did he leave her alone with her godmother. With a sigh, she sat down beside her.
All traces of softness left her godmother’s face. “Would you like to hear what people are saying about you?”
“Not particularly.” Emma stared down at her hands.
“The consensus is that you are beautiful but… gross.”
“Beautiful?” Emma snorted. “I’m passably pretty on my best days.”
Auntie Soo gaped at her. “But you are gross?”
“I didn’t say…” She did pretend to blow her nose into a cloth napkin. “Maybe?”
When her godmother leveled her steely gaze on her, Emma felt like a middle schooler caught drawing little penises with capes in her spiral notebook. “Explain yourself.”
“I don’t know,” she said with a helpless shrug. “None of the men seemed compatible with me.”
“The men I matched you up with?” Auntie Soo pressed her hand to her chest. “They weren’t compatible with you?”
“No, Imo. Of course they were compatible.” Emma winced. The last thing she wanted was to insult her godmother’s skills as a matchmaker. “I… I guess I just wasn’t in the right frame of mind.”
It might even be true. When Charles Shim showed up, her mind had been full of a certain handsome stranger. She didn’t have the luxury of being distracted by something as fanciful as romance. Emma had to meet the right match to save Auntie Soo’s reputation and finally open her culinary school. She’d come too far to derail her dream for some man. But oh my God, what a man.
“Emma.” Her godmother sighed. “I would never push you into doing something you don’t want.”
“You’re not pushing me to do anything.” Emma took Auntie Soo’s hand and squeezed. “I want to do this.”
Emma had spent years of her life cultivating a warm, happy home for her and her dad. Having a family of her own, with her dad tucked into an in-law suite, had always appealed to her. It fit neatly into the things she considered important in life. With family being the most important and opening up her culinary school—sooner rather than later—a close second. Having a family and a secure job ensured stability.
“Even before those miserable Crones created havoc in my life, I wanted to see you matched with the right man.” Her godmother cupped her cheek. “I understand why you have a hard time opening yourself up to relationships.”
“I don’t—” Emma clapped her mouth shut. This was her godmother. She would see through her lies. “You know my parents’ divorce wasn’t pretty. It taught me that love was something that… faded. I would never bet my whole life on it.”
“Your dad fell in love with your mother even though they had nothing in common. I told him the two of them were too different and their differences didn’t complement each other, but he wanted to marry her anyway. I think when that first flush of love faded, there was nothing left to sustain their marriage. Their love had no roots.” Auntie Soo looked down at their hands. “But that’s where I can help you. The men I match you up with have so much in common with you. If you give them a chance, you’ll find companionship, respect, and maybe even love. Look at Uncle John and me.”
Uncle John and Auntie Soo had been so happy together until he passed away five years ago. They were husband and wife but best friends, too. Even after thirty years of marriage, they never ran out of things to talk about—they always had something to laugh about. The Madame Ddu Method really was the best way to secure a healthy, lasting marriage—a shortcut to the constancy and stability Emma wanted for her future.
“Do you miss him?” she whispered.
“Every day,” Auntie Soo said, her voice breaking. Then she sniffed loudly and sat up tall. “Your next matseon partner is an absolute gem.”
“Ooh, is he sparkly?” she said with a cheeky grin.
“Don’t sass me, child.” Her godmother pinched her arm.
“Ow,” Emma yelped, rubbing the poor mistreated spot.
“There is more where that came from”—Auntie Soo clacked her thumb and pointer finger together like lobster claws—“if I hear another word about you being gross .”
“You can put those away.” Emma laughed even as her heart grew heavy. If she was smart—and she was—daydreams about Michel and his stallion needed to stop. She instinctively knew the man would wreak havoc on her plans for a sensible life. “I promise to be on my best behavior for my next husband candidate.”
“I certainly hope so.” Her godmother sighed. “Word has it that the YogurtBerry family is in the market for a Madame Ddu for their daughter. They’re one of the most influential Korean American families in California. Whoever signs them will rule the matseon market for the foreseeable future. But the Crones will do their worst to keep them from signing with me.”
“Don’t worry, Imo.” Emma hugged Auntie Soo. “I’m sure the YogurtBerry family knows you’re the best Madame Ddu out there. And I have a feeling I’ll meet my perfect match soon.”