Chapter 14:
The Royal Chef (3)
Quenelle de Brochet.
A dish made by blending finely ground fish flesh with flour and eggs.
In modern terms, it might be closest to “fish cake.”
The earliest recorded mention of something akin to “fish cake” in Korea appears in the *Jinyeonuigwe* published in 1719, referred to as “saengseonsukpyeon.”
In other words, a dish like this wouldn’t appear for another two hundred years or so from the era Ji-yeong had time-slipped into.
Naturally, the texture was unlike anything Yeonsangun had ever tasted.
“Oooh! Soft! Springy! Is this truly made from mullet flesh?”
The unique, elastic texture that teased the chewing muscles seemed to captivate Yeonsangun’s interest.
Moreover, it was paired with a rich Nantua sauce, made by grinding mantis shrimp with its innards and simmering it creamily with milk.
The combination of the tender, bouncy quenelle and the oceanic flavor of the sauce was a harmony that even today is celebrated as a hallmark of Lyon, the city of gastronomy—a testament to its proven taste.
There was no way Yeonsangun, a gourmet second to none in Joseon, could fail to recognize the true brilliance of this flavor.
“This is truly a marvelous taste! This texture! This flavor!”
Eunuch Yun, the doseolli of the Saongwon, quickly picked up a piece from the plate in front of him and placed it in his mouth.
Soon, a hint of stormy shock flickered across his stern face.
“What do you think, doseolli?”
“It’s… truly an incomparable… remarkable taste.”
Though he spoke cautiously, avoiding direct praise or criticism in the presence of the king, it was clear that Eunuch Yun was profoundly struck by the flavor.
But among the three, the most dramatic change in expression belonged, without a doubt, to Ijo Champan Sung Hee-an.
“Ugh…”
The moment he took a bite of Ji-yeong’s dish, his face trembled with an indescribable, complex expression.
It was as if he’d confirmed something utterly unacceptable with his own tongue.
Even a man as stoic as he was still human, with taste buds that couldn’t help but register the dizzying sensation flooding his senses.
“What say you, Ijo Champan?”
“Ugh…”
As if reading the turmoil on his face, Yeonsangun asked with a sly tone, causing Sung Hee-an’s facial muscles to twitch oddly once more.
“…It is a dish of exceptional taste, I report.”
At those words, the corners of Yeonsangun’s mouth curled upward.
For someone as rigid as Sung Hee-an to make such a statement was tantamount to acknowledging the result.
What pleased Yeonsangun even more was the feeling that he hadn’t forced this outcome through royal decree but had proven his own discerning taste correct.
“Then let us decide the winner of this royal kitchen cooking contest.”
Seizing the moment, Doseungji Im Sung-jae stepped in to conclude the matter.
The decision for the royal kitchen cooking duel was made by vote.
That was precisely why an odd number of judges had been seated.
With no possibility of a tie, a winner would inevitably be determined.
Soon, the three judges, including Yeonsangun, each chose a side and wrote down a name.
“The winner of the cooking contest is…”
Im Sung-jae, having collected the three slips of paper and reviewed their contents, finally spoke.
“…by unanimous decision, Yeon Ji-yeong.”
“Hahaha!”
The moment he heard this, Yeonsangun burst into hearty laughter, as if thoroughly satisfied.
With this, neither the Ijo, the Saongwon, nor even the royal kitchen could raise any objections.
“Then I shall now formally decree…”
With an unrestrained voice, Yeonsangun shouted toward the scribes recording the proceedings.
“Appoint this woman as the royal chef of the kitchen!”
Upon hearing those words, Ji-yeong felt a wave of dizziness, her entire body trembling.
She had somehow survived…
“…I’ve really become Yeonsangun’s royal chef!”
Disregarding status, gender, and rank entirely,
Yeonsangun’s eccentricity had once again prevailed.
Doseungji Im Sung-jae, aiming to plant a spy by the king’s side.
Yeon Ji-yeong, yearning to return to her original era.
And Yeonsangun, simply craving delicious food every day.
The bizarre hybrid born from the conflicting dreams of these three had now taken root in the royal kitchen.
…
After the whirlwind of commotion swept through the royal kitchen,
A middle-aged man with a scruffy beard, who until just yesterday was called the royal chef, bowed to Ji-yeong.
“I offer my greetings. Royal chef—no, now just chef… Jeon Se-ho.”
“Oh, hello. I’m Yeon Ji-yeong.”
She couldn’t help but feel uneasy.
In modern terms, it was as if the lowest kitchen assistant, tasked with chopping vegetables or washing dishes, had ousted the head chef in a single day and taken their place.
An unimaginable scenario even in a modern restaurant.
In this era of rigid status and hierarchy, it was all the more shocking.
Ji-yeong instinctively knew.
“Maintaining a good relationship with this man will be key to surviving in the royal kitchen.”
No matter how she’d won the cooking contest, it wasn’t an issue that could be resolved overnight.
The royal kitchen was a far more complex and specialized organization than modern people might imagine.
In terms of its operational structure,
At the top was the head chef, known as the “royal chef,” a sixth-rank official called the jaebu.
Below them was the seventh-rank seonbu, overseeing food preparation in general.
Further down were the eighth-rank jobu, general cooks; the ninth-rank imbu, in charge of fire; and the ninth-rank paengbu, responsible for boiling.
In short, the chefs working in the royal kitchen were part of a highly specialized profession with a strict hierarchy.
Leading such proud professionals was no simple task.
And it wasn’t just the chefs.
The royal kitchen also employed palace slaves in various roles to assist the chefs.
There were the byeolsaong, handling meat; the tangsusaek, preparing broths; the bangong, cooking rice; the pojang, making tofu; the jeungsaek, steaming food; the sangbaesaek, setting tables, and more.
It was a level of specialization that even top-tier modern hotel restaurants would struggle to match.
In total, the royal kitchen employed 195 people per shift, with two shifts, making a staggering total of 390 workers.
“In other words, the royal chef is the one who must lead them all.”
For Ji-yeong, who had parachuted into this role overnight, taking on all that responsibility was utterly impossible.
Going forward, the man before her would, in modern terms, take on the role of sous chef, handling the myriad practical tasks of the royal kitchen.
“Please call me Chef Jeon from now on.”
Chef Jeon gave a warm smile and bowed.
Thankfully, he didn’t seem too rigid.
Perhaps because he had witnessed Ji-yeong’s cooking skills with his own eyes during the contest.
In fact, the skill-focused attitude of professionals here seemed more progressive than that of the era’s scholar-officials.
“I’ve read the book written by your grandfather thoroughly.”
At Ji-yeong’s casual remark, Chef Jeon’s eyes widened in surprise.
Wondering if she’d made a mistake, Ji-yeong mentally reviewed her words.
There was a record that *Sikryochanyo*, written by Jeon Sun-ui, was published in Sangju in 1487,
so reading that book in this era wasn’t entirely implausible.
“…It’s a remarkable book that will be studied for centuries to come. As is the chef who presented its recipes in person.”
“Such high praise.”
Blushing at the subtle flattery, Chef Jeon scratched the back of his head and shifted the topic to introductions.
“Right, let me introduce you to the people you’ll be working with often. This is Eunuch Yun, the doseolli of the Saongwon. He’s responsible for all the kitchen’s supplies.”
“Ahem. I’m Eunuch Yun.”
A short, wiry, middle-aged man with a stern demeanor.
Ji-yeong had already seen him at the judging table during the cooking contest.
As the doseolli of the Saongwon, he handled administrative tasks like procuring ingredients and managing utensils.
“Please take care of me.”
“Be cautious and prudent in all matters. That’s all I ask.”
Eunuch Yun snapped with his usual stern expression, but then a familiar face caught Ji-yeong’s eye.
“Wait… Could it be… you?”
“We meet again.”
A young girl with a bright smile greeted her.
Her sharp, intelligent eyes had left an impression on Ji-yeong from when they were dragged to the royal kitchen together.
She looked about fifteen or sixteen years old.
“Why are you still here…?”
“Don’t worry. The others all safely returned to their homes. I, however, begged the Doseungji to let me stay here.”
“You… wanted to stay here?”
“…If I went back, I’d likely just end up married off as a concubine to some old scholar in the next village… But here in the royal kitchen, I feel like I can do something with my own hands. And…”
The girl’s eyes sparkled as she looked at Ji-yeong.
“…I want to learn so much from you, Royal Chef.”
Thinking back, this girl’s cooking skills and demeanor had stood out as particularly capable.
There was bound to be at least one in ten whose true calling was this royal kitchen.
She may have been brought here by force initially, but staying was her own choice.
If Ji-yeong hadn’t been here, this girl might have been the one chosen for the single palace maid position.
At that moment, Eunuch Yun casually tossed out a remark.
“You’ll need at least one gaksimi to assist you anyway, Royal Chef. Besides, the Doseungji said this girl has a very special talent.”
A “gaksimi” referred to a servant assisting a palace maid.
Sometimes they were relatives brought by the maid herself, or, as in this case, an apprentice maid still in training.
But… a special talent?
“They say her ability to discern flavors is exceptional. She instantly picked out the persimmon flavor mixed into a crystal fruit dish.”
At Eunuch Yun’s offhand comment, Ji-yeong suddenly felt a strange chill.
Persimmon…?
Then, the girl standing before her spoke up in a spirited voice.
“I look forward to learning from you, Royal Chef.”
Perhaps it was the eager anticipation of learning everything Ji-yeong had to offer, but the girl smiled brightly and continued.
“My name is Jang-geum, Seo Jang-geum.”
…Wait, who did you say you were?
…
Author’s Note
Jang-geum is a figure with scant historical records. She first appears in 1515 during King Jungjong’s reign as a medical maid, and contrary to her popular image, she had little connection to cooking.
However, as we can see from the cookbook written by Jeon Sun-ui, a palace physician, medicine and cooking weren’t as distinctly separated in that era as they are now.
The character “Seo Jang-geum” in this work, from her name to her traits, is inspired not by the historical figure but by my favorite drama—an homage, if you will.
