Chapter 377

After spending more than ten minutes discussing the history of Hokkaido’s noodle dishes, Shinsuke Asakawa finally raised his head and surveyed the students.

"Well, I think that’s enough background. It’s time to get down to business."

"The theme of the first examination in the Northern Expedition is noodles. You have three hours to complete your dish."

Haruto’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly, and a knowing smile appeared on his face.

Just as he’d expected, the first examination was centered around noodles.

Of course, there was no way Totsuki would make things quite that simple.

Asakawa continued, "The kitchen assigned to this examination contains only basic ingredients such as flour, noodles, water, and common seasonings. Aside from those, nothing else has been provided."

"If you need additional ingredients, you’ll have to find a way to obtain them yourselves."

The moment they heard that, the students began protesting.

"Obtain ingredients ourselves? How?! This hotel is out in the suburbs, surrounded by mountains and forests! There’s not even a convenience store nearby!"

"You’re not seriously expecting us to go looking for ingredients in the wilderness, are you?"

"It’s the middle of winter! Everything outside is buried under snow! Forget wild vegetables—we wouldn’t even be able to dig up grass roots!"

"We could buy ingredients in the city, but how long would a round trip take? Three hours might not be enough!"

Asakawa paid no attention to their complaints. He simply glanced at his wristwatch, cleared his throat, and announced the passing requirements.

"There’s only one criterion for passing: prepare a noodle dish that I find delicious."

"The examination begins now. Get moving."

Several quick-thinking students immediately turned and rushed out of the kitchen.

They understood perfectly well that Totsuki wasn’t going to change the rules of its Promotion Exams simply because the students complained.

The only thing that mattered now was obtaining suitable ingredients and preparing a dish that would satisfy the examiner within three hours.

Watching those students leave, the rest finally snapped out of their shock and hurried after them.

Within little more than ten seconds, the kitchen was almost completely deserted.

Haruto, however, was in no hurry.

He waited until everyone else had left before leisurely making his way outside.

A bitterly cold wind greeted him at the hotel entrance, carrying fine particles of snow that stung his face.

The distant mountains and forests were buried beneath thick snow, leaving the entire landscape covered in white.

Standing on the steps, Haruto briefly surveyed the area.

Several taxis that had been waiting outside the hotel had already been claimed by the fastest students and were now heading toward the city.

Those who hadn’t managed to secure a ride were trying other methods. Some tightened their coats around themselves and began trudging along the road toward town, their boots sinking into the deep snow with every step.

Others refused to give up on finding ingredients nearby and were wandering around the hotel grounds, digging through the snow in the hope of uncovering something edible.

Unfortunately, their efforts appeared completely futile.

Haruto withdrew his gaze and headed toward the forest on the opposite side of the hotel.

After walking for about two minutes, he reached a mountain stream.

A thick sheet of ice covered the surface, but the water beneath it continued flowing.

Haruto extended his senses into the stream and soon detected several fish swimming slowly beneath the frozen surface.

Once he’d located a suitable target, he brought the fingers of his right hand together like a blade and chopped downward.

Crack!

The solid ice split apart with a sharp report, sending fragments scattering in every direction.

Without pausing, Haruto thrust his hand into the freezing water and caught a fish that had been startled into fleeing.

He withdrew his hand and examined his catch.

The fish was slightly longer than his palm, with faint brown markings scattered across its scales. Its tail thrashed vigorously, spraying tiny droplets of water through the air.

Haruto immediately recognized it.

A yamame trout, a fish affectionately known in Japan as the Queen of Mountain Streams.

Yamame thrived in cold, clean, unpolluted streams and were prized for their delicate flesh and naturally sweet flavor.

"That’s my main ingredient sorted."

Haruto weighed the trout in his hand.

It wasn’t particularly large, but it would be more than enough for a bowl of noodles.

He picked up a piece of dried grass, threaded it through the fish’s gills, and carried it back toward the hotel.

...

When Haruto returned to Kitchen Seven with his catch, the room was still empty.

Shinsuke Asakawa was seated behind the judging counter, quietly examining the student roster.

He looked up when Haruto entered and visibly paused.

Less than ten minutes had passed since the examination began.

Then Asakawa noticed the trout hanging from Haruto’s hand, and a flicker of astonishment crossed his eyes.

He naturally knew that yamame trout inhabited the mountain streams around the hotel.

However, it was the middle of winter, and those streams were covered in thick ice.

Even breaking through the frozen surface would normally require considerable effort, much less successfully catching a fish beneath it.

Yet this student had somehow returned in under ten minutes with a particularly fine specimen.

’How on earth did he manage that?’

Although Asakawa was curious, he maintained his composure.

He merely nodded before lowering his gaze toward the roster again, though he continued keeping an eye on Haruto from the corner of his vision.

Haruto paid no attention to the examiner’s curiosity.

He placed the yamame trout on the preparation counter, picked up a kitchen knife, and immediately began working.

With light strokes against the direction of the scales, he scraped the fish clean, sending tiny silver-white scales falling onto the cutting board.

Next, he opened the belly and removed the internal organs.

Once the cavity had been cleaned, Haruto inserted his knife near the head and drew the blade smoothly along the backbone, keeping its edge pressed against the bones.

With remarkably precise movements, he separated the two fillets without wasting any meat.

By the time he finished, the remaining skeleton was almost completely clean.

Haruto transferred the fish head and bones into a stockpot, added two slices of ginger and a small splash of sake to eliminate any unpleasant fishiness, then poured in plenty of fresh water.

He brought the pot to a vigorous boil over high heat, carefully skimming away the foam that rose to the surface.

As soon as the broth began turning faintly white, he reduced the heat, covered the pot, and allowed it to simmer gently.

While the stock cooked, Haruto turned his attention to the two fillets.

He sprinkled an even layer of fine salt over the first fillet and gently massaged it into the flesh with his fingertips.

There was no need for a lengthy marinade.

Ten minutes would be enough to season the meat without overpowering its natural sweetness or drawing out too much moisture.

Once the fillet had finished marinating, Haruto placed it in the preheated oven with the skin facing upward.

Then he began preparing the second fillet.

He laid it flat on the cutting board, picked up two kitchen knives, and started chopping with both hands.

The blades struck the board in rapid, perfectly synchronized beats, producing a dense, rhythmic series of tapping sounds.

In moments, the fish had been reduced to an exceptionally fine paste, without even the smallest bone remaining.

Haruto added a little flour, a small amount of minced ginger, and a pinch of salt.

He stirred the mixture rapidly in one direction until the fish paste became thick, sticky, and elastic.

Then, using the space between his thumb and forefinger, he squeezed the paste into smooth, evenly sized fish balls.

By this point, the fish-bone stock had developed a beautiful milky-white color.

A rich, savory fragrance escaped through the narrow gap beneath the lid and gradually filled the entire kitchen.

Haruto lifted the lid and carefully slid the fish balls into the simmering broth one at a time.

They initially sank toward the bottom, but soon began floating back to the surface, gently rolling through the bubbling stock as their exteriors became smooth, glossy, and plump.

With the fish balls cooking, it was finally time to prepare the noodles.

Haruto brought over the flour provided for the examination, added a small amount of oil and cold water, and began kneading.

He repeatedly pressed, folded, and worked the dough, gradually transforming the rough, uneven mixture into a smooth, cohesive mass.

Once the dough had reached the proper consistency, he lifted it onto his left palm and stood before the boiling pot with a kitchen knife in his right hand.

The blade swept swiftly across the surface of the dough.

A thin shaving, thicker in the middle and delicate along its edges, flew through the air and landed precisely in the boiling broth.

Haruto repeated the motion without the slightest hesitation.

One shaving followed another, each piece flying cleanly from the dough into the pot.

The freshly cut noodles tumbled through the boiling liquid, sinking and rising as they cooked.

Within barely a minute, the pot was filled with uniformly shaped knife-shaved noodles.

After allowing them to cook for approximately two minutes, Haruto lifted the noodles from the pot and transferred them into a serving bowl.

He ladled over the piping-hot, milky-white fish stock and arranged several plump fish balls on top.

Just then, the oven chimed.

Haruto removed the roasted yamame fillet.

Its skin had developed a beautiful golden-brown color, with tiny bubbles of sizzling fat still forming across the surface.

An enticing roasted fragrance mingled with the fresh sweetness of the fish as soon as the oven door opened.

Haruto sliced the fillet into evenly sized pieces and arranged them neatly across the noodles.

Golden, crisp-looking fish skin and pale pink flesh stood out beautifully against the milky broth and glossy noodles.

Steam rose slowly from the bowl, carrying an irresistible aroma that made the finished dish look even more appetizing.

Haruto picked up the bowl and approached the judging counter.

"Knife-Shaved Noodles with Yamame Trout. Please enjoy."

Asakawa immediately reached for his chopsticks.

He lifted several strands of the knife-shaved noodles, blew on them gently, and brought them to his mouth.

The instant the noodles touched his tongue, a flush spread across Asakawa’s face.

His eyes grew unfocused, and an involuntary murmur of pleasure escaped his lips.

The knife-shaved noodles were thin at the edges and thick in the center.

Their surfaces were wonderfully smooth, allowing them to glide across the tongue, yet biting into them revealed an exceptionally satisfying firmness and elasticity.

As he chewed, the natural fragrance of wheat gradually spread through his mouth.

More importantly, every piece of noodle carried an even coating of the savory fish broth, allowing the texture and flavor to complement each other beautifully.

Asakawa lifted the bowl and took a sip of the soup.

The milky-white broth was rich and full-bodied without the slightest trace of greasiness.

The essence of the yamame trout’s head and bones had been thoroughly extracted, infusing the stock with a deep, clean umami.

Meanwhile, the ginger and sake had been used with remarkable restraint.

They enhanced the fragrance and removed any undesirable fishiness without interfering with the delicate taste of the trout itself.

Warmth flowed down Asakawa’s throat and settled pleasantly in his stomach.

For a moment, even the bitter winter cold beyond the windows seemed to have become less severe.

He then picked up one of the fish balls.

The moment he bit into it, the firm, springy exterior yielded beneath his teeth, releasing a burst of delicious juices.

The fish had been minced so finely that its texture was perfectly uniform, without the slightest trace of coarse particles.

The trout’s natural sweetness blended with the rich fish-bone stock absorbed during cooking.

Each additional bite released another wave of savory flavor, leaving a wonderfully lingering aftertaste.

Finally, Asakawa turned his attention to the roasted yamame fillet.

His first bite produced a delicate crunch as his teeth broke through the crisp skin.

Beneath it, the fish was exceptionally soft and tender.

Haruto had roasted the fillet with such precision that its natural juices remained perfectly sealed inside, leaving the flesh so delicate it almost melted on the tongue.

And because the roasted fish had also absorbed some of the broth surrounding it, its original sweetness had gained an additional layer of savory richness.

For an instant, Asakawa almost felt as though the yamame trout itself were leaping across his tongue.

The fragrance of rendered fat, the freshness of the fish, and the mellow depth of the broth unfolded together in perfect harmony.

Each flavor enhanced the others without creating the slightest imbalance.

By the time Asakawa finished the bowl, he was completely immersed in the experience.

Only after swallowing the final mouthful did he gradually return to his senses.

He set down his chopsticks and bowl, picked up a napkin, and calmly wiped the corners of his mouth.

"Pass."

Then he looked at Haruto with a serious expression.

"An exceptionally delicious dish."

As far as Asakawa was concerned, everything about the preparation had been outstanding.

The texture of the noodles, the precise control of the stock’s cooking temperature, and the handling of the fish were all virtually flawless.

The finished dish easily surpassed the standard achieved by many professional chefs who had spent years working in commercial kitchens.

Haruto simply nodded in acknowledgment before returning to his workstation to clean his utensils and equipment.

Meanwhile, the other students who had rushed outside in search of ingredients still hadn’t returned.