Ludwig fished a piece of meat and the soup out of the bowl. He then put the white bowl onto the countertop before pushing the chunks of meat in it with his spoon. The surface yielded without resistance. However, it didn't collapse nor mushy. The meat had become something soft enough that the spoon sank in with only a slight push before the fibers separated cleanly along their natural lines.
He turned the piece over once before pressing again from another angle just to be sure. And just like before, the meat gave way. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say it had now become butter.
Good. Ludwig nodded. That meant it was perfectly cooked now.
He lifted the spoon, letting the piece rest on it for a second before bringing it closer to his face. Steam rose steadily, carrying the scent with it. It was deep and savory with that distinct richness only bones could give when they had been simmered long enough. Beneath that, lighter aromatics that hadn't been drowned out despite the hours of cooking rose.
However, Ludwig didn't taste it immediately. Instead, he lowered the spoon back into the bowl and tilted it slightly to watch how the broth moved. It coated the surface of the meat before it slid back into the bowl. But that's not all. it left behind just enough sheen to tell him the gelatin had done its job.
Only then did he scoop up a bit of the broth alone.
He brought it to his lips and drank.
The first thing that settled on his tongue was warmth. Not the temperature, but the body. It was something that filled the mouth without feeling heavy. Then came the depth spreading outward rather than hitting all at once. The sweetness from the bones, the salt balanced just enough to bring everything forward, and beneath it all, the quiet support of spices that didn't try to stand in front.
He paused for a moment, letting it sit on his tongue. Then he took another spoonful, this time with meat. The fibers broke apart the moment his teeth pressed down. It held just enough to feel like meat, not paste, before giving way completely. The flavor followed immediately after, richer than the broth alone, but not overwhelming it.
Ludwig swallowed, then exhaled slowly. There was no sharp edge to the taste. No bitterness from overcooked aromatics and no blandness from under-seasoning. The fat had been rendered properly, enough to carry flavor, but not enough to coat the tongue unpleasantly.
He moved his gaze from the broth inside the bowl to the broth inside the pot. The surface shimmered faintly under the light, clear enough to see through, but still looked as if it had weight.
His fingers tapped once against the edge of the pot; the time around it stopped. It was done and ready to be served. Now, it's time for him to cook another dish he had in mind.
But before that, he looked at the kitchen. Currently, there's only Bilo there, finishing his preparation on both the Tempura and the Skewer. That menu should also be improved soon. So, he needed to think about foods that go along well with drinks.
Putting the thought into his mental note, Ludwig moved to where a chicken was already marinating. The moment he lifted the lid, the scent rose up to meet him.
The sharp smell of spice hit him first, then something deeper beneath it followed. He didn't need to look to know the marinade had settled properly into the meat. The color alone told him that much. The surface had darkened, the seasoning no longer sitting on top, but drawn inward.
Good. He nodded.
He slid his hand beneath the chicken and lifted it slightly, just enough to feel the weight. The texture had changed from when he first prepared it. Firmer on the outside, but not dry. The marinade had done its work.
Without wasting more time, Ludwig popped away from the kitchen. The place he arrived at was the third floor of his restaurant, a space where the smoker sat. He approached it and set the chicken down on the metal tray beside it. Then, he opened the chamber. The faint scent of old smoke greeted him in a rush. A foundation built from previous uses, something that would only add to what he was about to do rather than interfere.
Ludwig adjusted the wood first. Jerk chicken wasn't meant to be drowned in smoke. It needed just enough to support the spice, not replace it. He set the pieces carefully, spacing them just enough to allow proper airflow, then closed the chamber halfway before lighting it.
The flame caught slowly. He watched as it built from a small ember became it burn in a steady manner. Only when the fire settled into a controlled burn did he close the chamber fully.
Then he placed the chicken inside. The metal rack gave a soft sound as it took the weight. Ludwig adjusted the position once, ensuring it sat evenly before stepping back. For a brief moment, nothing happened. Then the process began. Something that needed equal power from heat, smoke, and time.
Thankfully, this kind of cooking was where Ludwig's power could shine the brightest. While the normal process of slow-cooking something in a smoker would need eight to twelve hours, he would only need ten minutes tops.
He waved his hands around, enveloping the smoker with his time manipulation. Minutes became seconds. The smoke thickened, then thinned, then thickened again as the cycle repeated in rapid succession.
Ludwig simply watched with his senses. Even with control over time, the process itself still demanded attention. Too fast, and the outside would harden before the inside was ready. Too slow, and the balance would be lost.
When the color on the chicken changed from red to a darker shade, then toward something closer to charred at the edges, Ludwig waved his hand again. Returning the flow of time around the smoker to its default state.
When he opened the smoker again, the aroma that came out this time was completely different. It was richer and sharper. The spice had transformed under the heat. It was no longer just a mere seasoning, but something integrated into the meat itself.
He reached in and pressed lightly against the surface of one chicken. It had enough bounce to push his finger, but not too much. The next check was cutting it. The blade slid through without resistance, the inside still moist, juices gathering immediately along the cut.
Ludwig let out a quiet breath.
"…Good."
It was not perfect. He was no pitmaster. Still, it's good enough to serve.
He lifted the chicken from the rack and set it aside. Behind him, the smoker continued to release a faint trail of smoke, as if marking the end of the process.
And just like that, one more piece of the menu had fallen into place.
*
"Chef, this Oxtail Soup is shooo gooood." A blonde girl with the only modern one-piece dress in the restaurant said so while her mouth was still full of meat.
Ludwig chuckled as he saw her. "Glad you like it. But be careful, don't eat too much in one bite."
"How can I?" The girl shouted again. "This is so good!"
"Tsumugi! Manners!" Her father, Aoki, chided her at that moment, probably had enough of her act. "Sorry for that, Chef."
Ludwig waved his hands at Aoki. "It's fine. Manners in this restaurant are quite vague with so many non-humans around."
After he said so, Ludwig's eyes moved towards where his two Pokemon were. They had claimed the corner of the hall for themselves. But his two Pokemon weren't the only ones. That space is now occupied by animals. Aside from his companion, there were also a little Dragon, two cats, and a black wolf there.
Arcanine was lying on the floor. His head was adjacent to the floor, but his eyes were aware, watching. Beside him was Kira. As always, the wolf shut her eyes tight. But the twitch of his nose and the movement of her ears told him enough that she was watching also.
They were the only ones who were calm. The rest? They were purely chaos energy incarnate. Raon, for some reason, was now on top of Gastly. Yes, like how he landed on his head whenever he wanted. Thankfully, it seemed like his Gastly was strong enough. Even without the dragon piercing on its head, it could still fly around fine.
Meanwhile, the cats were playing hide and seek around Arcanine and Kira. Like kids deciding that their resting older brother and sister were merely acting and have to take matters into their own hands.
Ludwig laughed outright when he saw them. If someone already felt that it was too much, then they would be in for a surprise. Those six were not all the animals that would call the hall their playing space. They still have Dratini, Abra, and Hedwig. There's also Ryouma and his many slimes.
With them joining the fun, the energy around the companion circle would surely explode even more.
Hmm… Should I make a room only for them? Ludwig thought so. Amongst his customers, not many had companions. But those who have, their companions were sizeable. If he could make a space just for them, wouldn't that be cool?
But, well, he decided to shelve the idea for now. Making a room for people to eat and making a room for some animals or companions to play in were two different things. While the former only needs good circulation, enough space, good lighting, tables, and chairs, the latter would require creating an artificial park, maybe like that park where Rimuru got his Dratini.
As his thoughts reached an end, the restaurant suddenly buzzed inside his mind.
Just in front of a door, a man was standing. He was clothed in common clothes that were easy to find around Orrtus. However, what the restaurant told him next jolted him back to reality.. After all, it said that the man needed food. A dire need for food.
But just as Ludwig was about to open the door to let the man inside, something brushed against his senses. It was something he felt quite a lot back when he was traveling to kill the Demon King. But this time, it was not something malevolent, chaotic, or evil.
On the contrary, just the aura alone made him feel calm.
When he moved his gaze to the source of the aura, his eyes couldn't help but widen. After all, the golden aura he felt came from a hoe.
The farming tools, mind you. Not the other meaning.
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