Ascendance of a Bookworm

At times it will be while you are drying your coal pencil.

With Thuri starting to work, my cooking number came around, too.

But in a state where knives can't hold a lot, fire can't use a lot, it's still not possible to make the whole itinerary by yourself. I was to help to the best of my ability and make it with my mother.

Because of this, I would like to try to be creative so that I can eat Japanese food.

My modern knowledge sparks fire!...... I wanted to spray momentum, but I didn't.

'Cause you're in a good shape from the start.

I miss Japanese food, but I don't have rice. There is no miso. There is no soy sauce. Naturally, I don't even sell sake. There's nothing I can do about it even though I don't have seasonings. I don't think I can make it.

You know, even I know how to make miso and soy sauce, right? Even ingredients, I know. You make it out of soy, koji and salt, right?

I learned the procedure. When I was in elementary school, I went to visit the Miso factory, and I actually used to make it like this, and I took the tour of the corner seriously.

But where in this world are soybeans and koji?

Even if beans could possibly be substituted with other beans, where do you sell them, Koji?

Exactly, I can't be afraid to make koji from what's in nature. Because koji is mold, right? If I fail a little, it's a straight line of food poisoning involving the whole family.

Even if there happens to be cobalt, you can't be afraid to brew it in that house full of germs, and it stinks, so you must be thrown away before you can.

I gave up making my own condiments and thought hard about whether there were any Japanese foods that didn't use condiments, even this.

How about a sashimi?

I don't have soy sauce, but wouldn't it taste good to eat with salt and citrus fruit juice?

But here, apparently, the sea is far away. There was no such thing as fresh seawater fish when I went to the market. I don't even sell walnuts or seaweed.

Instead of sashimi, I couldn't even do a seaweed salad.

The absence of seafood naturally means that it is not kelp. No dried shrimp or bonito. I want to make Japanese food, but I can't take the stock. This was really deadly.

I won't tell you what I want. At least some kelp and bonito.

Even the cucumber vinegar has too different flavors to be satisfied when there is no soy sauce, sugar is not allowed to be used, and there is only wine vinegar.

Though I tried to make it, it felt refreshing and completely different from the vinegar I thought it would be.

I regretted that I couldn't do it at all, so I salted and rubbed the cucumber, an easy dish that even I the child could do.

The salt drained a bit of moisture, and the salty cucumber became a little pickled. When I thought I could be satisfied with the Japanese food, on the contrary, I could cry because I missed white rice too much.

Incidentally, the grain bread and salted cucumber mochi felt too strong not to be this one and not very compatible.

Rice, rice, and Japanese food! Somebody get some Japanese food! Please bless the Japanese food!

Because of the cucumber broth, I wanted to eat too much Japanese food, so I thought about catching fish in the river and making my own Japanese-like food.

I can't use fire, I have no choice but to dry the fish. Let's catch some fish in the river and make some dried food. Bring the salt, shake it and dry it and you might figure it out.... I want you to figure it out.

"Hey, Lutz. I'd like to try to catch fish, can you catch this river?

"I don't think Mine can do it"

As Lutz said, the result is disastrous.

Fishing for fish is difficult in itself.

I brought the fish that Lutz had caught before me.

"Look, I caught it, but what are we gonna do with this?

"Can I have it?

"Fine. I don't need this."

"Lutz, can I have Lutz on fire? I'd like to make this a salt grill."

I will try to eat the fish Lutz caught me, intolerable, salted like a bamboo.

Ouch!

Bitter!

First of all!

I took a bite and accidentally glanced at him. Weird. It smells like mud, different than I thought.

Why does it smell so bad?

Lutz was frowning as he explored his memory and tilted his neck to see if it was baked correctly.

"If we don't cook properly, doesn't that smell like eating?

"... stinks"

This fish stinks. I would have loved to have told you sooner.

The other tail snapped with a knife. Unlike the Japanese knife, it's a little worn out, but there shouldn't be a problem with the taste.

Stick it with a sharpened stick of wood and try to dry it. Maybe dry food can do it.

It was heavenly sun-dried, I left it, and if I had picked up firewood, I would have been so kachinka that I couldn't eat it at some point. Apparently, the moisture has evaporated too much.

"Mine, what is this?

"... too dry. You can't eat as a dried food anymore."

"Right. Doesn't matter how you look at it, it doesn't look like food."

"But maybe I can get the stock. I'll take it home and use it."

Even if I can't eat it as a dry food, I might be able to take the stock.

I went home with dried capsicum, and tried to use it as stock.

"Mine, what is this!? It's disgusting! Hey, stop putting it in the pan!

"Um, mother. I'd like to use it to get stock."

"No! All you can put in the pan is food."

... It's something I can eat for once.

The hard rejection of my mother, who disgusts me with the dried product, rejected its use as stock.

Maybe I don't see a lot of fish in my normal life, so I feel sick about fish that are tucked away and dried up. The head of a pig cracked in half says, "It looks delicious."

I'm sorry, fish.

In conclusion, I cannot make Japanese food.

I can't take the stock and I don't have any seasoning, so there's nothing I can do.

If you give up miso, soy sauce, sake and yuzu, you can't make so much Japanese food. I've learned the importance of condiments.

For one thing, it looks a little Japanese with ingredients that I can use now, at least I'll figure out a way to eat closer to the flavor I was eating in Japan.

That's more meaningful. Yeah.

And, oh, my God, I got one bird today. I hear your neighbor fixed about 5 in the woods. Eating it before it hurts everything is difficult in season, so he wants to give it back to us he handed out when my father had overworked it before.

I don't even know his name. It's my mother who snorts birds. The knife for pouring meat is heavy, and neither I nor Touri can use it yet.

"Mine. Look, go go"

"Ugh, yeah......"

Then grip and pull the feathers of the birds lying still. I got goosebumps when I felt like I could take my wings off.

Tell yourself it's something you have no choice but to eat, crying . It's still going to take some time before it can be done as a simple task.

But I think he grew up with me because even if he chooses his gut, he can stand there without passing out or running away.

"Come on, Mine. I'll cook."

"Okay."

Because of this, I thought about getting stock with bird gallows. With bird glass soup, the breadth of the dish changes.

Although there are no kelp or bonito, why not pair it with the dried mushroom stock of dried shiitake mushrooms?

But it was hard to take bird glass soup. My mother couldn't understand the bird glass soup, and at first, she couldn't help me. They like to bake it and eat it until it's critical.

I convinced him that I was the cooking number today, and he only had me slash the bird gallows. I had to do something about it myself.

Throw more and more water, bird crap and herbs into the biggest pan. Even if it looks different, I will choose something that smells, tastes and uses similar.

Something with an onion-like smell, something with a shoga-like taste, something with a garlic-like smell, a laurier-like leaf, anyway, I decided to try putting in one herb after another that would be used to eliminate the smell of meat.

"Mine! Don't wait!

"Huh?"

"That's out of Mine's hands. Violent!"

When I tried to cut the white radish leaf part with a knife, which tasted like garlic, my mother took it away.

Grasp the leaf area and place it on the slab, as if you would say you would be in trouble if you could escape.

The moment my mother glared at the white radish and cut it in half with a knife, she said, "Yikes!" I heard her screaming. from White Radish.

"Huh? What?

Is it empty ears, in front of me blinking, my mother took her hands off the leaves, now bang the sides of the knife! And slap. Same behavior as when crushing garlic.

Faster than I would have minced it properly, so if I had thought it would have helped, the white radish that came out from under the knife would have turned red radish for some reason. It is scary that the blood is red as it has been stained.

"It's okay now. Wash it properly before you use it."

"... yeah"

Was it an illusion in my eyes that my mother seemed more ferocious than Radish? It's an illusion. I would say an illusion.

Here are some strange ingredients that I don't really understand, even if they sometimes look similar to the vegetables I know. When you encounter these unusual vegetables, you realize, oh, this isn't the world you know.

Though there was a little happening, if you put in the herbs for the odor removal, the only thing to be careful about is the gray juice.

Once it boils, I often hear you throw all the water away for now and reheat the water, but I've never tasted particularly bad about the soup, and it's annoying, so I keep boiling it on a trout fire.

After boiling, only Sasami saw the fit and took it away. After a quick exposure to water, unravel it and serve it with a salad is delicious.

Treat other portions of meat down while simmering the soup. Cut fragile areas such as the heart area or the gizzard-like area into edible sizes and sprinkle with salt and liquor. This kind of thing is simply cooked and eaten in salt. That seems to be the most acceptable method of cooking for the family.

For a moment, the word charcoal grill turned my head, but I gave up because of other treatments.

What I eat today is gut system and momomo meat. The thigh seemed to make my mother roast chicken with more on her arms, and my handouts were forbidden.

I will fill my breasts with salt and liquor, and keep them in the winter quarters. This is to be used for cooking tomorrow.

If I had a refrigerator here and a plastic bag that I could seal, I'd have made a birdham, but I can't do it here. Too bad, thoughtless.

"... Smells good?

"I haven't tasted it yet."

As the smell of soup begins to drift, my mother, who was creepy enough to roll away, approaches the pan a little bit.

The bird glass soup had to simmer to temperament, so I decided to just watch out for the ash juice and start chopping vegetables little by little.

It takes time in this body to do anything, so I've never tried to keep it early.

For the first time in my plan to eat like Japanese food, it's a pot. With the stock, wouldn't a pot do it? I thought so.

I can't take the familiar stock, but this time I have bird glass soup.

Since there is no vinegar or sesame seeds, I plan to try simmering it with a pot of pome and herbs that look like yellow paprika and taste like tomatoes and make it look like a tomato pan.

In a Pome pan, my mother decides to use wings that are all bones and difficult to use, and I cut seasonal vegetables that I don't really know their names from appropriately. I think it's the attraction of the pan that you can generally eat if you simmer it.

"Oh, maybe it's time. Mom, can you help me?

And I called my mother, and set her on the second, biggest pot.

"What am I supposed to do?

"I want you to pour soup down here. 'Cause I'm gonna get the unwanted part out of it."

"... you're not eating this"

My mother said to me as if she was relieved and filtered me with bird glass soup.

Wash the dirt from the largest pan and transfer the filtered soup. The second largest pan is frequently used, so if you leave the soup stock in, it will get in the way. Making a Pome Pot now is also the second largest pot.

Add the chopped dried mushrooms to the soup you can and start making pome pans. While simmering the wings, add in the meat that can be eaten from the just filtered bird gallows.

Because the bones were sharp, I took a little meat, taking care not to cut my fingers, not to leave any bones in the meat.

The good smell of roast chicken my mother makes is getting in, so think about the time to simmer, and this one puts vegetables in the pan as well.

"Mine! What are you doing!?

"... vegetables, I just put them in?

"We have to have proper water!

Anyway, I boil the vegetables in a different pan until they are worn out. If I flush all the boiled juice and use only the boiled vegetables for cooking, I will halve the deliciousness. Because nutrition also melts quite a bit.

I don't complain about my mother's cooking, but I have trouble forcing my cooking to do the same.

"This dish is fine."

"You're gonna ruin a dish that looks delicious because of you, right?

"It's gonna be okay."

Simmer with the ash juice and the pome pan is done.

I tasted it a bit, but it's delicious. You don't have to have water with the vegetables first. Yeah.

"I'm home. Ah, it was us"

"Welcome home, Touri. What's the matter with you?

"It smelled so good up to the main street that I got so hungry as I walked. Someone walking down the road was looking for where the smell was coming from. I didn't think it smelled like us."

Would it feel like I would like to eat Chinese food or if I went near a ramen shop? Because the smell of bird glass soup is quite powerful.

"I'm home. Oh, you smelled like us"

My father, who was on his day shift, also returned. They smelled bird glass soup quite extensively. Brighten your face to expectations and get to the table.

My family was just fine for dinner.

"Al gave me a bird today. Because you split it before, in return. I cooked that with Mine."

"So this unfamiliar dish is the one Mine made?

"Yes, I am."

In the middle of the table is placed a roasted chicken of thigh made by my mother, next to which is a salad with a little bit of unsolved sardines on top. By my father, the salt grill of the gut system is lined up as a knob, and a pome pan is placed in each vessel. When you can line up like this, it's not a pot anymore, it's just pomesoup.

"This, what? It smells so good. Can I eat?

"Pome soup. Good luck with the bird glass soup, so it should taste good. Try it."

When I said so, Touri, whose face was close to Pomesoup, let his eyes shine and took the spoon in his hand.

"Wow, yum! Why? It's delicious."

"Oh, really. I was surprised because I simmered the bones of the birds, and I just washed the vegetables and put them in directly, but they're delicious."

My mother also took a bite and said so in a smudged tone. For my mother, who knows the cooking process, I guess it was a chunk of anxiety, even if it looked delicious.

"Awesome, Mine. You have a culinary talent."

My father flattens the dish with great momentum, rejoicing.

I tried pomesoup, too. The bird glass soup tasted very good, with vegetable umami, and it was delicious.

It was delicious, but it didn't make Japanese food.

The next day I finished picking up firewood in the woods early and came back. The little ones have to act solidified both going and going home, but Tulli, after the baptismal ceremony, seems free to move if he says no first. With Touri, I came home early, too.

I want to use the rest of the bird meat, so Tulli isn't the only cooking number today, I have one too.

As the second time I planned to eat like a Japanese food, I decided to try to steam the bird's liquor. If it's sake, it doesn't have to be sake. I thought so.

"Does wanting to use the rest of the meat mean you decide what to make?

"I'm planning a salad with the bird's" Steamed Alcohol "and" Gnocchi, "okay?

"Um, I don't know, I'll leave it to Mine"

Let's start by making gnocchi.

Boil the potatoes, crush and mix a little salt and grain flour. It is grain flour that is used by nostalgic citizens who cannot easily use flour. The focus is on rye and barley and yen wheat.

Extend the dough rounded and rod-shaped about the earlobes and cut into pieces in about 1 cm.

"This is how I want you to stretch the knife I cut."

"Okay."

Touri nodded loudly as I watched as I struggled a little and put the dough on the back of the fork and rubbed it with my thumb.

On the surface of the fabric, the marks on the fork stick, and on the back, the sauce is more likely to become entangled because it can be indented in the shape of the finger.

The dough that I will cut will be rolled up one after the other by Thuri. It is faster and more in shape, because it is more powerful than I am.

"Touri, you're better than me."

"Really?... Mine, don't look at me, just hang up. It's gone, isn't it?

I'll have Touri boil the water, there's water in the boiling water, and when it comes up, we can do it.

Add more pome to the rest of yesterday's pome soup to make the boiled pome sauce. You should tangle gnocchi just before you eat, so that's all you can do now.

"Is that about it now? I can do the salad right away..."

"It's time for my mother to come home, so why don't we start making salads?

Making a salad with Thuri, my mother came home from work.

Having found my mother, I take the breast I had prepared below yesterday from the winter support room in order to begin making liquor steaming.

No matter how much I left it on the cold stone in the cool room, I was seasonally scared and tried to smell cum.

... Yeah, it's not rotten. It's all right.

"Mine, is this iron pot okay?

"Yeah. Thanks, Touri. I put salt and liquor on the bottom of it yesterday, so I can do it right away."

It's hard not to have pepper on the bottom flavor, but I just have to give up on that.

It is simple to make. If you only broil and grill breast with salt and liquor, just flip it over, add alcohol, and cover it.

Because of this, let's also add the mushrooms we've picked in the woods today and flavor them. I washed the mushrooms and tried to cut them with a knife, and Touri caught my eye.

"Mine, no! That mushroom will dance once it's ablaze with fire!

"Huh?"

That's what I say. No, Thuri skewers all the mushroom stones. Then he sprinkled it with parallies and salt and seared it with a flame of clay.

Dancing? Mushrooms? The bonito feels loose in the hot air? I don't know what that means.

Before me tilting my neck not sure that the mushrooms dance, Tulli offers a mushroom with a little grilled eyes.

"Now it's okay"

"Oh, thanks..."

I thought it was a weird expression, but if you're okay now, that's fine. I guess this is one of the wonder ingredients. At first glance, it seems to be important to be careful.

I cut the mushrooms, taking care not to burn them with hot mushrooms.

"Mother, which alcohol can I use to cook? I want half a cup of alcohol because it doesn't taste good."

"I like this."

Turn the liquor my mother put me in the cup dappled inside the iron pan with it slightly stretched out on the table. Put a lid on an iron pan that makes the sound of Juwa ~ and when the pan starts to say Juwa Juwa, put it down from the fire and leave it alone. Just wait for the fire to come through with the excess heat.

"Are you going to put the pot down already?

"Yeah. And then there's enough heat to get the fire through. Because breasts get crunchy and hard to eat when they pass the fire."

Intertwine the pomesauce and gnocchi made with leftover soup as they warm over the fire.

The salad that Thuri was making was also completed. On top of the salad, like yesterday, is Sasami on board. He really liked the sausage yesterday.

"It's a fancy meal today."

"I have to thank Mr. Al"

Given the nostalgia, this is rarely the only meal on the table. It was so big that they gave the birds away.

"I'm home. Looks good today."

My father, who also seems to have hoped for today's dinner, returned with a full smile. He says he's been bragging about last night's dinner at work with his chest up.

I feel profoundly exaggerated and proud of being a parent idiot filter. I hope it's my fault. If it's not your fault, it's a little hard to get to the gate.

"I'll have it."

"Oh, wow! Delicious, Mine!

Tulli, who ate the liquor steamed of the cut bird, rejoiced with his eyes round.

My mother also took a bite and laughed nicely.

"Even though it's easy, it's nice to have soft breasts. The mushrooms are also very tasty with the flavor. Is that because it's good alcohol?

"Maybe. The sweetness of the honey liquor gives you depth in the flavor."

As soon as I said so, my pale father stood up gutted and took the liquor bottle as he ran to the shelf.

I see a bottle that's not that big with a lot less, and it drips with gakun. You look like you're about to cry.

"... oh, my secret booze..."

Sorry, sorry.

Because, "It's the alcohol my father snuck up on in hiding. Because of this, let's all taste good", my mother told me with a little black smile.

I rarely read the air.

It was honey wine, so it was different sweet and tasty than sake, but it wasn't Japanese food after all. It was completely different.

Oh, I miss Japanese food.

I am surprised that sometimes there are ingredients that are said to be "dancing" or "rumbling" or "dangerous," but for the most part I was able to cook without problems with the cooking methods I know.

Both the potato gratin made on other days and the risotto dressing made with soba like grain were popular, as were the quiche dressing made by laying down the dough of the hardened grain bread.

Favorable for my family, but not at all comfortable with me. Even if I make Western food, I don't have a lot of seasonings and spices, so I get tired of similar flavors.

At least, pepper! I would love to have curry powder too!

My challenge to dietary improvement still persists.