“Hmm.” Isabelle spent time savoring a spoonful of the sundubu. It was fairly spicy but she showed all signs of enjoying it. “Maylin’s going to ask so is there anything you wished would’ve been included? And this is probably one style of meal, right? What other meals do you like? Because I’m seriously game to try more Korean food based on this.”
He grinned. “Well, Korean fried chicken and beer are a fantastic meal. The fried chicken is very good quality, with very crispy breading and not nearly as greasy as the fast food I’ve seen in the United States. There’s at least one restaurant chain that I know of in this country that does it well. The flavors can come in soy garlic or spicy here. Very flavorful. And in Korea, you can get several other flavors.”
She blinked. “Fried chicken. That’s a Korean thing?”
“Very Korean.” He smiled. “It’s well-seasoned and tender, never dry. And the chicken is served with pickled radishes. Makes for a great palette cleanser so you can eat more and more.”
“That sounds deliciously dangerous.” Isabelle sat up straight, placing a hand over her belly.
“You don’t look like the type to diet.” He wasn’t against eating healthy but he’d had countless dates where his companion decided to forego the specialty of whatever fine restaurant they’d been eager to try for a generic salad in the name of being on a diet.
Isabelle shrugged. “I’m more a believer in portion control. I want to eat all the things, but my metabolism isn’t magical. I stay active and I try not to overindulge. When you talk about that fried chicken, for example, I’m thinking I’d go for more fried chicken and just a little bit of beer. It’s important caloric intake decision making.”
He chuckled. “Wise.”
“Anything else come to mind?”
He glanced over the dishes again and sighed. “It would have been difficult to manage these two dishes. Both are served in heavy stone or earthenware pots but they are very comforting.”
Isabelle stared. “Stone.”
He nodded. “Bibimbap is served in a hot stone bowl. It’s white rice topped with namul—sautéed and seasoned vegetables—and various sauces. Like chili pepper paste, or gochujang, and doenjang, a salty soybean paste. There’s also thin-sliced beef or other meat, marinated, and a raw egg. The stone bowl is so hot, it is literally cooking the rice. The trick to it is that the stone bowl is brushed with sesame oil or similar. When it’s served, you stir the rice to mix up the various things piled on top without scraping the final layer of rice directly against the sides of the bowl. Given a few minutes, you get a crispy crust of fried rice for added texture to your bibimbap. Very filling.”
“Huh.” Isabelle’s eyebrows had risen during his description. “I have no idea how Maylin would’ve managed to put that together for us to enjoy easily under these circumstances. Might have to go to an actual restaurant to find it.”
“Agreed.” He had a sudden urge to offer to take her to one or two restaurants he knew of, but didn’t. It seemed...awkward.
Under other circumstances, he’d want to pursue her and enjoy further conversation over good meals. Here, like this, it was both more intimate and limiting at the same time. He had no idea whether they’d be in contact after this was resolved.
“What was the other dish?” Isabelle started putting covers back on the dishes and stacking them.
“A true comfort food.” He shook his head. “It’s a very simple sort of egg dish. Steamed in the stone or earthenware dish.”
“Yeah, I can see how that’d be hard to serve this way.” She reached for the grilled fish and started to flip it over, presumably because they’d finished taking all the meat from one side.
He reached out and touched the back of her hand. “Don’t turn over the fish.”
Isabelle looked up at him but didn’t withdraw her hand from his touch. “Why?”
“It’s a Chinese superstition. Your chef friend is Chinese, right? To turn over the fish is to symbolize the capsizing of a boat.” As he shared the etiquette consideration, a chill ran down his spine. Disturbed, he withdrew his hand.
Still watching him, Isabelle finished covering the dishes but she didn’t flip the fish.
“In any case, thank you for pausing in your research to join me for this meal break.” He stacked the dishes and took them to the mini refrigerator.
Silence stretched out over several moments before Isabelle broke it. “What do we feed Frederick?”
Chapter Ten
Lizzy woke out of her light doze to a familiar sound, which shouldn’t have been in the room. She opened her eyes, drawing in air as she did to wake herself up completely.
No lights. The curtains were still drawn and there was little to no daylight peeking in around the sides of the windows. Just a hint from the indirect lighting fixture installed underneath the counter in the bathroom to make sure guests didn’t break their necks getting up to go to the bathroom at night. Kyle must’ve left the bathroom door open to give him something to see by.
Meaning it was still early morning.