Hunger Is The Best Spice

Ah, I’m so hungry.

I miscalculated my budget for this month and now I haven’t been able to afford anything more than instant ramen and plain crackers for the past four days. I should have known better than to go with Naomi for lunch outs, but I really thought I could stretch my spending a bit and still end the month comfortably.

Usually, I have some extra funds set aside for when I have unplanned expenses, but I already used it to buy clothes the other day and the rest was moved to the lunch out budget. I do have an emergency fund, but I’d rather not touch it until I’m in a really desperate situation. I don’t think I am in one yet since I can still afford to eat so that passbook will remain sealed.

The end of the month, which is when my parents send me my allowance, not to mention payday from my part-time job, is also just a couple days away. I have enough money to survive until then.

Still, four days of ramen and crackers can really take its toll on the taste buds. The saltiness gets tiring. The crackers were starting to taste like cardboard. I skipped breakfast since I didn't feel like ramen, but by lunchtime I still could not bring myself to boil some water.

So, here I am taking a walk in hopes to forget about my hunger and the salty taste that’s been permanently in my mouth for the past couple of days. Unfortunately, it just made me hungrier. Even worse, I didn’t really plan for my walk so I stumbled upon the shopping district where I could smell all those delicious scents coming from the shops.

In my mind, I knew I had to run away. All that aroma is tempting me to spend the rest of my money, which would be disastrous if I do.

But, my body was moving on its own. It knows what it wants and it wants it now. I could barely fight the urge.

Thankfully, someone snapped me back to my senses.

“Kat?” a female voice called to me.

I looked to see who it was.

It was Marie.

She was also with her boyfriend, Ken, who greeted me when I looked their way. Both his hands were carrying multiple eco bags so I assume they were buying groceries.

I greeted the two back.

“Are you shopping here, too?” Marie asked.

“No, just passing through”, I replied. Not like I could afford groceries right now, but they didn’t need to know that.

Then, my stomach grumbled.

Very audibly.

It was loud enough that the two had heard it and stared at my belly in awe.

All three of us fell silent. The two were probably surprised by the volume that my stomach had grumbled. I was, too. I didn’t think it could get that loud. But, I wasn’t talking because I was embarrassed.

It was Marie who broke the silence.

“Great timing”, she said. Then, she held out the only bag of groceries she was carrying and asked me, “Would you like to join us for lunch?”

I haven’t told them of my situation yet so the offer likely was just because they encountered a hungry friend. Either way, I’d be accepting their invitation. I was hungry. I didn’t have money. Of course, I’m going.

We headed to Marie’s home, which was around ten minutes walk from the shopping district. It was empty. It was still a weekday so her family was not home.

“Dad is at work, mom is out having lunch with her friends, and my little sister is at school”, she explained.

Speaking of which, it was still surreal for me that I could visit a friend’s house on a regular school day at noon without there being anything wrong about it. I was still relatively fresh out of high school and never been truant. It felt weird that my day ends in the morning and that I’m free to go anywhere and do anything I please for the rest of the day.

It was something I was looking forward to getting used to, though.

However, when I relayed that to the two, I got scolded.

“You shouldn’t get used to it or you’ll be in trouble”, Marie said.

“Yes, while we do spend less time in the classroom, your projects will be eating up all that extra time”, Ken added.

The two were busy putting away the groceries they had bought into the refrigerator and the cupboards. I wanted to help, but they said I was a guest so I didn’t need to do anything. I was simply waiting for lunch to be served as I sat at the dining table.

Ken then continued, “Finals are also only a month away, deadlines will be up in a few weeks so you should really be starting to work on those assignments, you know?”

“I-I’ll keep that in mind”, I nervously answered because I do have a couple projects that I had been procrastinating on.

I didn’t realize the two were also model students. I initially thought they only had their looks, but here they are trying to direct me to the right path as a student. My impression of them has grown a bit more.

“Although, I guess first years have it easy”, Marie said. “Their assignments shouldn’t take more than a month to complete, maybe even a couple of weeks at best.”

“Right, we really need to spend more time on them now that we're in our second year”, Ken agreed.

The pair started conversing with each other without me, although it feels like it’s still a continuation of the lecture.

“In fact, we had to begin working on them at the start of the semester, otherwise we wouldn’t be able to finish at the end of the term.”

“Yeah, lots of planning, discussions, consultations, not to mention building the actual thing.”

While I’m learning a bit more of what college life is like, I’m also starting to feel a bit bad from hearing it.

“Then, perhaps I should leave?” I interrupted the two.

“Huh?”

“Why?”

Both of them seemed confused.

“Why, you ask. Aren’t you two busy? You probably don’t have time to entertain me right now.”

I was thinking that they had planned to only do a quick lunch and then work on their projects until they met me. I was feeling bad that I was eating up their precious time.

“We’re not”, Ken said.

“There’s no need for you to be considerate of us”, Marie also said.

“Then, why did you tell me all that stuff about being busy?”

The pair then approached me and patted my shoulders. I was already standing when they did that. I felt some downward force on their touches so I sat back down.

Marie then started with the explanations with “We were telling you that because…”

“...Because we don’t want you to end up like us”, Ken continued the thought.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“We’ve barely started with our projects”, Marie answered while sticking her tongue out cutely.

“Tee-hee”, I think I heard her laugh, too.

I wasn’t sure what kind of face I was making, but I was probably staring at them with an expression of disbelief and disappointment. I thought they were good students!

“Well, don’t worry”, Ken said, trying to reassure me. “We’ll make it somehow.”

“Somehow? I thought you said you need more than a month to complete your projects!”

“Yeah, we did, but, we’ll make it somehow”, Marie parroted.

"Even still, you should start doing them now", I said, but then my stomach grumbled again.

It was about the same volume as it did earlier, but we were indoors this time so it seemed louder, interrupting the conversation.

I wanted to continue telling them to do their assignments, but that made me clam up out of embarrassment.

Awkward silence followed once more.

Again, it was Marie who broke the silence.

Laughing, she said “You’re right that we have to start working on our assignments, but we can’t work on an empty stomach now, can we?”

I silently nodded in agreement and that was the end of the talk.

“Now that we’re all in agreement, let’s start cooking”, Marie declared.

Not wanting to keep the sour mood by keeping silent, I opened up a new topic of conversation.

I asked the two, “What’s for lunch?”

“Hmm”, Marie voiced out as she and Ken walked back towards the kitchen. Once they were back behind the counter, she said, “I don’t know yet.”

I had assumed they already planned their meal when they went grocery shopping, but I guess not. They had bought a lot of groceries and were probably spoiled for choice so I didn’t find it surprising they were only going to decide once they were about to start cooking.

I was surprised about their method of choosing the meal, though.

When they returned to the counter, the first thing they did was get a notepad. They each wrote something in turns then tore the pages out and placed them inside a tissue box.

“That’s cute”, I commented. “Is that how you two decide on your meals?”

“Not quite”, Ken replied as he shook the box to shuffle the contents.

“What do you mean?”

His answer was kind of suspicious. This is the first time I’ve seen anyone do a lottery to decide on a meal, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how the conversation should go.

“We don’t usually cook, you see”, he explained. “Whenever we eat at each other’s place, it’s usually our moms’ cooking.”

“In fact, if my mom didn’t have an outing with friends today, our lunch would be something she’s made”, Marie then added.

“Then, what’s the lottery for?”

Marie hummed cheerfully.

I started having a bad feeling of the situation. I have no basis on why; just a gut feeling I have.

She then answered, “I’m glad you asked because, today, Ken and I are going to test our skills and have a cook-off!”

“So, I suppose the meal you two are going to compete over will be pulled out of that box?”

“That’s right! I’m glad you catch on quick.”

Well, it was the obvious conclusion after hearing all that.

“You really do have good timing”, Marie continued. “We were wondering how we're going to judge the winner for the cook-off so I’m glad we happened to meet you today.”

“Let me guess, you want me to be the judge?”

“Correct again!” she said.

That was easy to predict as well. However, my questions were answered, but that bad feeling of mine has yet to go away for some reason.

Ken was done shaking the box and placed it on top of the counter.

The two had a discussion on who should be the one to pull from it and quickly decided to play a round of rock-paper-scissors for the right. Marie won.

“Say”, I chimed in as Marie put her hand inside the box. “You two know how to cook, right?”

“Sure, I can”, Marie replied as she swirled her fingers inside the box.

“You just need to follow the recipe”, Ken then said, giving his response.

Each answered confidently, but, for some reason, I wasn’t assured.

Marie finally pulled out a piece of paper from the box. Without much fanfare, the two unfolded it and looked at the content.

“Salisbury steak, huh?” Ken commented.

“Yeah, Salisbury steak.”

I couldn’t gauge what their reactions meant as they both remained calm. They weren’t panicking, though, so I thought nothing would be going wrong.

They wasted no time to start preparing.

The kitchen and the dining area are connected along with the living room, so Marie recommended I watch TV as I waited. But, I decided to keep an eye on them instead. I was still suspicious of their cooking skills.

However, they seemed like they actually knew their way in the kitchen. I observed the things they were grabbing to put into making the patty and nothing seemed suspicious. Ground meat, eggs, salt, pepper, onions - all standard fare.

Although, Marie seemed to have put some extra ingredient, something green. I figured it was bell peppers, so I thought nothing of it. Maybe she likes it that way.

Once they started frying up their patties, I turned my attention to the television. Watching the two gave me a bit of confidence in their skills so I didn’t feel like I needed to watch them any further.

But, maybe I shouldn’t have looked away because, after they were done, they served me Salisbury steaks each with a color that I’m not familiar if this sort of dish is supposed to have. Marie’s was bright red, while Ken’s was black. I’d have thought the black one was Marie’s if neither told me whose is whose considering that it seemed like it was her favorite color.

I thought they were only doing the standard recipe with a few tweaks. I didn’t expect they’d get really creative about it. I should have also watched them doing the sauce!

I looked at the couple nervously and asked, “What did you two use with the sauce?”

I was hoping the answers are tomato sauce and squid ink respectively.

“It’s a secret”, Marie coyly replied. “We’ll tell you once you’ve had a taste so eat up!”

I gulped before saying a quick prayer. The prayer was not only to say thanks for the meal, but also for my stomach to survive this.

I started with Ken’s dish because it looked like the least appetizing of the two. I figured I should start with it so, in case it tasted as it seemed, I could overwrite the taste with the next one.

I inspected the meat first. It appeared charred, but, upon closer look, it was simply black because of the sauce. Cutting it open, it revealed its insides which didn't look burnt. That gave me a bit of relief.

As for the sauce, it wasn’t as thick as gravy or mushroom sauce so it doesn’t seem like a burnt version of either. It smells different, too, and it doesn’t seem like squid ink as I had hoped.

I hesitated for a bit and wondered if I could still back out so I looked at the two wannabe chefs.

I noticed Ken looking at me expectantly, which made me feel bad that I wasn’t finding the dish he prepared the least bit appetizing.

Although, ultimately, it was my stomach who dictated my next move. I could walk away and go home to eat instant ramen, but even my subconscious is screaming out for something different.

So, I took a bite.

As soon as the food landed on my tongue, its flavor exploded inside my mouth. I felt something electric go through me from head to toe and back. My entire body shivered at the taste of it, and not in a good way.

It was too salty!

I didn’t spit it out, though. I didn’t want to waste food.

In a panic, I motioned at the two to give me a glass of water.

Ken was quick to respond. He rushed to grab a pitcher of water from the refrigerator and a drinking glass from the counter. He brought them to the table, but I couldn’t wait for him to fill the cup so I grabbed the pitcher off him and quickly drank straight from it to get the taste out of my mouth.

The salty taste didn’t entirely disappear despite emptying the pitcher. My tongue was still tingling from it. But, at least it faded down to a tolerable level.

“What were you thinking making this so salty!?” I scolded Ken.

“Sorry”, he said. “I saw Marie was going to prepare a special kind of Salisbury steak so I panicked and thought adding soy sauce to the gravy would make it taste different.”

“Soy sauce?!”

So, that explains the taste and the color.

“Whatever happened to following the recipe!?”

I didn’t receive an answer as Ken clammed up.

“How much did you put in this?”

“A bottle”, he said.

“A bottle?! No wonder this is too salty. Did you even taste-test this?”

“I didn’t plan for this so I kind of ran out of time”, he replied sounding a bit embarrassed.

I just facepalmed at his answer. I didn’t realize they agreed to a time limit, but I figured the dish could still be fixed so I told him to go back to the kitchen and not let the food go to waste.

Ken looked dejected as I gave him my judgment, but he obeyed and took the plate with the black Salisbury steak back to the kitchen.

Meanwhile, while all of this was unfolding, Marie silently watched with a contented smile on her face.

“Seeing that Ken screwed up, my victory is now assured”, she commented.

“If that’s the case, then maybe I can skip tasting yours.”

“Don’t be silly”, she said, laughing. “For the sake of fairness, you should judge mine as well.”

After trying Ken’s, I became even more wary of Marie’s red Salisbury steak. I thought I could get away from trying it given how confident she is that the match is already hers, which was why I asked.

“Now, don’t be shy and eat up”, Marie said to encourage me.

Evidently, there is no escape.

Well, I could still run out of the house, but that would be rude to my hosts. Plus, I was still hungry. My stomach has been consistently winning out the argument against logic in that I should eat the food in front of me instead of denying it.

So, I took a bite.

Initially, it didn’t taste bad. I thought it was good, actually. It was hot and spicy, but to a tolerable level that you can enjoy its flavor.

At least, until I chewed the meat.

Just one bite of it and its spiciness blew up like a bomb. There were really spicy peppers mixed into the meat. If I was a cartoon character, fire would be coming out of my mouth to represent how flaming hot the food was. I wouldn’t be surprised if that is happening now because it certainly feels like my mouth is on fire.

It was too spicy!

I didn’t need to ask for water this time. Ken almost immediately served me three pitchers as if he was expecting my reaction.

My tongue still felt burnt, but I managed to calm down after emptying two pitchers. I’m unable to talk because of it, though. Not to mention, I was keeping water in my mouth to help soothe the pain.

For some reason, Marie thought it would be okay to start talking to me.

“How is it?” she asked. “Good, right?”

To her surprise, I shook my head in response.

“What? Why?”

I tried talking, but I couldn’t speak properly. After a few attempts and Marie telling me that she couldn’t understand me, I brought out my smartphone to type in the words I wanted to tell her.

“Were you trying to burn my tongue off?!” I wrote and showed it to Marie.

“What do you mean?”

“Its spiciness is too much a human can handle!”

“Is it?” she asked then took a piece from the steak for her to eat. After chewing a bit, she continued, “It’s not that spicy though?”

To my surprise, she was eating it normally.

I looked at Ken, who remained at the side of the table after delivering the pitchers earlier, to see if he was witnessing the same thing and that I was not going crazy.

He gave me a knowing nod and said “Don’t worry, she has an inhuman tolerance for spicy things.”

I looked back at Marie not knowing what else to say. I mean, how else am I going to react if that level of spiciness is normal for her?

“I’m not sure who wins now, seeing you’re not happy with either of our dishes”, Marie said.

I wasn’t surprised she’d bring up the contest now, but I wish she had waited until I could properly talk again.

“But, just in case, who would you pick as the winner?”

I shook my head to say there was no winner, but she unsurprisingly misunderstood it.

“C’mon, can you at least tell whose dish you liked - or, rather, disliked the least?”

I shook my head again to say she misunderstood, but this time I quickly typed into my smartphone the thing she wanted to hear.

“Neither of you!” I told them through the screen. “Both of you made a dish that can’t win any proper cook-off!”

The pair looked disappointed, but they weren’t mad at my harsh words. They didn’t push me to pick a winner either as they respected my judgment.

However, they weren’t going to simply accept not having a victor in their game.

“Let’s go for another round”, Ken said to Marie.

“You just read my mind”, she replied.

The two of them then looked at me each with a determined expression on their faces. I knew what they were thinking and they were about to ask me to be the judge again. But, fearing for my well-being, I preempted their request by telling them that I had to go due to some made-up excuse.

They were disappointed about it, but, thankfully, they let me go. My stomach also did not protest the escape as it was full from all the water I drank to wash out all those really strong flavors from my mouth.

However, once I returned to my apartment, the water had already gone through my system so I was hungry again. In the end, I still ended up having instant ramen and crackers for lunch, however late.

As for Ken and Marie’s match, I heard it ended inconclusively. Marie’s mother came home while the two were preparing for the second round and she forced them to cook the food normally after being scolded for wasting the Salisbury steaks.

As for their assignments, they somehow made it just as they said.