"I’m from the city, so I hardly ever see bugs like this, and I definitely don’t have a habit of eating them. I’ve only seen it on TV. Before joining the show, I did so research and learned that these white grubs found in rotten wood are one of the best sources of protein in the wild, so I figured I’d give it a try."
In the pan, the plump white grubs slowly turned golden brown under the high heat, their soft bodies gradually becoming crisp.
At a glance, they looked a bit like puffed rice, or maybe oversized shrimp crisps.
"Maybe it’s because I already cut their heads off yesterday, but just looking at them like this... it seems acceptable."
Before the expedition officially began, Lin Chen had actually ntally prepared himself to eat insects. He’d even gone to a barbecue stand to try a skewer of grasshoppers. He just hadn’t expected his life in the forest to be so much more comfortable than he’d imagined.
But since he was on *Wild Survival*, not eating any bugs would be a bit of a letdown. If nothing else, it was a personal challenge.
He picked up one of the ’shrimp crisps,’ took a few deep breaths, squeezed his eyes shut, and popped it into his mouth to chew.
"CRUNCH... CRUNCH..."
The crispy sound was accompanied by a faint, aty aroma. He could even taste a hint of nuttiness. It wasn’t nearly as disgusting as he’d imagined.
His brow, which had knitted in apprehension, slowly smoothed out. He picked up another one and tossed it into his mouth.
"You know, this thing tastes way better than I expected. If I had a little salt, it’d be no different from a bar snack."
After downing about ten of the ’shrimp crisps,’ he licked his lips, wanting more. He felt like his appetite had been thoroughly whetted.
"I’ve seen on other shows that these bugs are also good raw, but unfortunately, I have no intention of trying that right now. In the wild, it’s best to eat cooked food whenever possible."
Muttering to the cara, he chopped the washed wild fiddlehead ferns in half and tossed them into the pan in batches to stir-fry.
"Fresh fiddlehead ferns are full of water. There’s not enough fish oil in the pan to coat the surface of every fern, so to keep them from burning, I have to keep the heat at a dium-low level."
"I can’t adjust the fire’s heat, so I have to heat the pan for a bit and then move it away, using the residual heat to cook them slowly."
"Once the ferns start releasing water, I can increase the heat and stir-fry them, using their own moisture to steam them."
As the ferns in the pan began to give off white steam, a faint, fernted, sour sll—the unique aroma of fiddleheads—wafted through the air.
By now, the salmon was about done marinating. Lin Chen carefully lifted the fish, which had turned slightly opaque, and scraped out all the wild apple puree from between the fillets.
"You can’t marinate salmon in a strong acid for too long. If you do, it’ll ’cook’ all the way through, lose a lot of its moisture, and end up with a texture like canned tuna. You have to get the timing just right."
He sprinkled a little more salt on the surface of the fish, spread it out flat, and placed it on a makeshift grilling rack he had woven from soft, thin branches.
Then, he ignited the applewood, which had been heating for a while, and piled it beneath the rack, letting the fragrant, fruity smoke completely envelop the fish.
"The smoking process is pretty slow. Depending on the temperature, you have to flip the food regularly to ensure it cooks evenly. In my situation, I’ll probably have to flip it once every half hour or so."
Normally, smoking requires a sealed environnt so the flavor can fully penetrate the at. He had never tried an open-air smoking thod like this before.
After a mont’s thought, his only option was to quickly finish stir-frying the remaining ferns and Split-leaf Wormwood. Then, he inverted the pan over the fish to act as a lid, which would hopefully provide at least so insulation.
Seasoned with just a bit of sea salt, the crisp, slightly tart ferns and the soft, juicy Split-leaf Wormwood, paired with the pan-fried Red Salmon head, made for a simple al. It was refreshingly different.
[Enjoying all-natural, pollution-free wild vegetables in the North Arican wilderness. The greasiness accumulated over the past two days has been perfectly neutralized. Happiness 1]
’Greasiness?’
Lin Chen tilted his head, a flicker of confusion in his eyes.
Red Salmon don’t have a high fat content to begin with, and it’s pitifully low after they stop eating during their migration. He’d been forced to render oil from the fattiest parts—the head and belly.
’I’ve only been eating it for two days and you’re telling about *greasiness*?’
’Forget being tired of rich food; if soone put a plate of pork intestines or fried chicken in front of him right now, he could devour the whole thing in one go!’
’Could it be that this "accumulated greasiness" is a different concept from what I’m actually feeling?’
He scratched his head in confusion, deciding to set the question aside for now.
While the fish was smoking for the next half hour, he decided to wander around the campsite again to gather more firewood and see if he could find anything new.
Alaska was supposed to be a berry paradise, but he’d been here for four whole days without seeing a single one.
Normally, berries like blueberries and raspberries ripen between July and September, but in colder regions, that season can be pushed back a bit. Finding them in October was normal, they just wouldn’t be as sweet.
If he could find so berries, not only would it improve his diet and boost his vitamin intake, but he could also start thinking about making traps. Catching a wild rabbit or sothing for a proper feast would be great.
He left the campsite. The warm sunlight felt pleasant on his skin.
’Co to think of it, this is probably my first real breakfast in the wild.’
Instead of heading toward the wild apple tree, he followed the slope up toward the top of the hill.
In a hilly region, the higher elevations get more sun and have higher dayti temperatures, which is generally better for plant growth.
As he followed the rock formations at the base of the cliff back to the dividing line, he was suddenly struck with the urge to check out the top of the cliff.
’It’s right above my shelter, after all. It’s always a good idea to check. Aren’t there always scenes in movies and on TV where wolves like to howl at the moon from a clifftop?’
’If there really are signs of wolves, I’ll have to start building so defenses.’
He scouted the clifftop. He didn’t find any signs of wolves, but he did find plenty of tracks left by wild rabbits.
Before long, he found a nearby bush laden with berries.
He pushed aside the thick branches and leaves, revealing clusters of densely packed blueberries hidden inside.
He picked a few of the larger ones and tasted them. They were juicy and moderately sweet. The flavor was a little milder than store-bought blueberries, but not by much.
As he was joyfully picking the blueberries, an idea suddenly sparked in his mind.
"Since there are rabbit tracks near the blueberry bush, does that an the rabbits co here to eat the berries?"
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