Work Text:
An hour after the Calamitous Carrot Cake
Banba Detective Office
Banba's just finished cleaning the rice cooker when his brown eyes light up. “Hey, hey,” he exclaims, light bulb practically appearing beside his head, “you know what, Lin-chan?”
Narrowing his own eyes at Banba, Lin warily replies, “What?”
The detective holds a forefinger up. “Carrots are like feelings.”
“... Huh?”
“If they're too much for ya to handle on your own,” Banba explains, looking well pleased with himself, “it's best to share them with other people.”
Lin folds his arms. “So we should give these carrots away; is that what you're saying?”
“Yep,” says the man. “I mean, let's face it: there ain't no way we're gonna cook 'em all up ourselves.”
“No thanks to you,” Lin sourly returns. What kind of weirdo adds spicy pollock roe to cake? Honestly. “Let's give the guys a call, then. At least most of them ought to know better than to add mentaiko to dessert.”
“Hey, it came out pretty good!” Banba insists. “Your taste just ain't refined enough to appreciate it.”
“No, it didn't.” Lin glares, stomping his foot. “And my taste's way more refined than yours.”
Damn Ban-baka.
So Lin and Banba contact the rest of the Tonkotsu Nine, telling them that they've got far too many carrots than they know what to do with, and to come to the detective agency if they want some. Please. And to give them more carrot-laden recipes while they're at it.
After all, 'When life gives you lemons, make lemonade,' as the saying goes. But when life gives you carrots?
“Make carrot juice,” Enokida answers over the phone. “It only follows, doesn't it? Oh, and could Banba-san send me the recipe for his 'spicy' carrot cake? There's a contest for the craziest—er, the most avante garde—”
Lin ends the call before the Mushroom could finish.
“Other than just eating them raw? Carrot soup,” is what Dr. Saeki suggests, happily collecting a bagful of the orange root vegetables. “Carrots are excellent skin food, as everyone knows. You should thank that client for gifting you a whole box.”
“And on that note, thank you,” chimes in Yamato, having also come along to help himself to a bag. “I've been wanting to make yakisoba. Maybe I'll send you guys some if it turns out any good.” A pause, and then the host adds, “Or edible.”
Saitoh drops by barely an hour later with a good-sized sack for himself and Old Man G. (“Pickle the darn things,” the old stall owner had asked Saitoh to tell them. “Slice them carrots into strips along with daikon; sprinkle with rice vinegar, salt, and sesame oil. Perfect side dish fer jus' about anything.”)
“And me?” Saitoh appears to think hard. “Well... vegetable gratin, I guess?” he replies. “My folks sent me a recipe I could try.”
“I'll be making carrot tempura,” Shigematsu informs them when he next comes around. “Tasty, goes well with beer, and pretty hard to mess up if you know what you're doing. You two should try it.”
“Maybe we will.” Banba nods in agreement, seeing the officer off. “Tempura goes well with mentaiko, too.”
Lin snorts. “Anything goes well with mentaiko to you.”
“Only 'cause it's true,” Banba rejoins amiably. “Like, did ya know there's mentaiko-flavored ice cream? We gotta have that some time, Lin-chan!”
Like hell. “Have it yourself.”
“You sure? Enokida-kun's texted the address of the shop that sells it. 'Seems we get a discount if we come as a cou—”
“No.” Lin is adamant.
“But—”
“No.”
That damn 'Shroom.
“Carne guisada—that's what we call 'meat stew' back home—is what I'm gonna cook,” says Martinez, hefting the sack of carrots he's come to pick up. “'Though I doubt it could compare to what my abuela used to make. In any case, I've written down the recipe at the back of Jiroh's. He and Misaki-chan send their regards.”
Sure enough, they find the cooking instructions for Martinez's grandma's special Carne Guisada at the back of the last page for Jiroh & Misaki Tanaka's Love-Filled Omelet Rice <3.
“... They both seem kind of hard to prepare,” Lin remarks, reading through each recipe. “The omurice seems to take a lot less time, though.”
“Omurice, eh?” Banba strokes his chin, his gaze turning wistful with nostalgia. “I reckon the last time I ate one was back in middle school.”
Oh. “Then it's decided.” Lin holds up the recipe for omelet rice. “Banba, let's try making this next.”
Luckily, they still have plenty of eggs, milk and flour left over from their recent 'rice cooker carrot cake' attempt, as well as cooked white rice from this morning.
“So, carrots aside, all that's left is—” Banba quickly consults the list. “Onions, bell peppers, the meat—oh, and ketchup, too.”
Back to the supermarket they go to buy the rest of the ingredients. This time around, to match their new aprons, Lin also gets them some oven mitts and head scarves. (“Such a cute couple,” one store assistant whispers to another. “I saw them earlier today, too. I think it's sweet, them wanting to cook together.”)
It's already late in the afternoon when Banba and Lin return to their apartment, purchases in tow. Donning their respective aprons, they immediately set about preparing the omurice.
“'Guess we need to chop the vegetables first,” Lin notes.
“Leave that to me,” Banba volunteers.
Lin purses his lips. “You better not try to sneak in spicy pollock roe this time.”
“Really now.” Banba (so-not-cutely) pouts. “Ya say that like it's a crime, Lin-chan.”
“It should be.”
“Welp, the omurice I used to have always had mentaiko in it, I'll have ya know.”
Why am I not surprised? “... I guess we could put some in, if you really want,” Lin concedes, handing Banba the chopping board. Unlike with the cake, combining mentaiko with egg and rice seems perfectly all right. “But not too much; I don't want it overpowering the taste of everything else.”
“Just a quarter-cup or so should be fine,” Banba replies, breaking out into a smile. “Aww, Lin-chan, so ya do—”
“Less talking, more chopping,” Lin cuts in.
“Yes, dear,” Banba intones teasingly, and reaches for an onion.
Lin himself starts to heat the pan to cook the bacon in, ignoring the heat suffusing his own cheeks. Damn Ban-baka.
The next half hour or so elapses quickly. While daunting at first, Lin soon finds that making the omelet rice is simple enough, if you think about it as divided into three main stages:
1. Make the fried rice (A).
2. Make the cream sauce (B).
3. Make the omelet and put (A) and (B) in it.
Lin fries the rice in a bit of oil with the meat, carrots, and other vegetables. (“Looks like we can eat this as is,” he comments once he's done.) Banba makes the sauce, straying a little from Jiroh's recipe by crumbling and mixing two heaping spoonfuls of spicy pollock roe instead of cheese into it. (“We'll be using the remainder to garnish the omelets with,” Banba tells him.) The omelets themselves end up being a joint effort, Banba pouring the egg mixture to coat the interior of the pan while Lin—once the bottom part of the omelet has solidifed enough, naturally—spreads a portion of fried rice and the mentaiko sauce over roughly half of it.
“Then ya go and fold the uncovered half of the omelet over the other, easy does it—” Banba states, demonstrating accordingly, “—and we're done. Well, for the most part. We still gotta plate it, pretty it up with mentaiko and ketchup and such, but that's one good-sized serving of omurice with creamy mentaiko sauce.”
Together they slide the omelet rice onto a plate.
“Smells good,” Lin declares. He watches Banba put a piece of mentaiko the size of a marshmallow over the omelet, then squeeze out some ketchup to draw a heart around it. The result is a bright yellow, half-moon-shaped omelet, fluffy and piping hot, with a reddish-pink mentaiko 'dot' and tomato ketchup heart decorating it.
Now it looks good, too.
“Looks mighty appetizin', don't it?” Banba says.
“... Kind of,” Lin stoically returns, trying not to drool at the enticing aroma of egg, fried rice, and spicy pollock roe.
After making a second omelet for Banba, the two settle themselves on the usual L-shaped couch to eat.
“Thank you for the meal.”
Lin takes his first bite of the omelet rice.
His eyes widen in surprise. The salty-spicy taste of mentaiko, perfectly counterbalanced by the cream; the fried rice, bursting with the richness of the meat and the tart, crisp yet tender vegetables; all of it creating a harmonious medley of flavors encased in a silky layer of egg, delicate and mildly sweet.
“It's delicious,” Lin utters, amazed.
“Told ya it would,” Banba rejoins. “After all, it's got the secret ingredient.”
“I know.” Lin sighs, smiling in spite of himself. “Mentaiko, right?”
“Nope.” Banba shakes his head. “That ain't really a secret this time, Lin-chan.”
Lin blinks at the man. “Then what is—?”
Banba's grin is bright as the sun. “Love, of course.”
And with that, Banba takes a bite of his own love-filled omelet rice with obvious gusto.
***
~ Extra ~
A Future Text Exchange, Or: Mentaiko. It's Always Mentaiko.
[ Banba ]
Lin-chan, are you mentaiko?
[ Lin ]
...?
I don't think I want to ask 'why'.
... You're still gonna tell me anyway, aren't you.
[ Banba ]
Ya know me so well. ^o^
Btw, the answer is:
'Cause I can't ever get enough of you.~<3<3<3
[ Lin ]
... . . .
... You're so lame, Ban-baka.
But... Thank you.
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~ The End ~