Derek couldn’t help but swallow.
It’s just pork, can it really taste that good?
But that’s pork!
Pork that exudes an apocalyptic aura!
No wonder his reaction was so strong, the pork in Australia indeed has a sowhat strong flavor.
Pigs are highly intelligent creatures, and if they sense their end is near, their at can beco quite unpalatable.
So, a sneak attack is necessary when slaughtering pigs; only when they are unaware can they be sent back to the embrace of God, ensuring the quality of the at remains good.
Australia actually does quite well in this regard; it’s considered one of the most humane approaches globally.
Most farms use a high-concentration carbon dioxide environnt to render pigs unconscious before slaughter, a painless thod crucially lacking just one thing—they don’t drain the blood.
Chemical castration itself is inferior to Huaxia’s physical castration, and when they don’t drain the blood during processing, the taste of the pork is evident.
In Australia, Chinese owners usually buy sow at, which has less odor, but the taste can’t compare to that of boars, creating a vicious cycle.
But today, that stereotype was broken!
Derek and Reggie already caught the aroma, and though the scent of the seasoning was strong, the aty fragrance was even more prominent.
They could distinctly sll the unique aroma of the at, but there was not a trace of the characteristic gamy sll of pork.
This doesn’t make sense!
The halves of the burgers in Derek and Reggie’s hands never made it back up; their eyes were glued to Kerry’s rapidly chewing mouth, slick with juices from the at slices.
Kerry noticed Derek and Reggie’s plight but pretended not to see.
Are they crazy? If I acknowledge them, I’d have to share my delicious at with them?!
I’m not even full yet!
Watching as Kerry’s chopsticks reached for the at slices again, Derek and Reggie grew anxious. If he keeps eating, there won’t be any left, you idiot!
Derek lightly cleared his throat and hastily said, "Kerry, my brother, I think what you said about adapting to local dietary habits was wise advice. Could you share so of that dish with ?"
Reggie nodded repeatedly, "We really want to try Huaxia’s food now."
Kerry paused and then resolutely refused, "Derek, my friend, I’ve already eaten this dish; sharing it with you now would be very impolite, but there will be other chances to try it tonight."
Derek and Reggie turned their gaze to Zhang Yang, "Zhang, didn’t our tutor always tell us to help each other out?"
Zhang Yang glanced helplessly at Kerry, whose arm had sohow already encircled his plate protectively, clearly saying, "If you dare to snatch my at, I will sort you out!"
He looked at his own plate. Though the owner generously gave a lot of at, it might not be enough for two people to share!
But as a nation renowned for its etiquette, being too stingy wouldn’t be good either, would it?
With a pained heart, he took a pair of disposable chopsticks from the table, quickly scanning over the at slices on his plate, and picked up the one that seed smallest.
After placing it on a plate, he snapped the chopsticks in half with a firm grip and pushed the plate toward Derek and Reggie, smiling, "It’s your first ti trying this, so I gave you a little to start with just in case you don’t like it. In our country, wasting food is considered very uncivilized."
After that, he swiftly retracted the chopsticks and poured his rice onto the plate, starting to mix it all together.
I did all that; surely they won’t ask for more, right?
He didn’t believe those two could keep their composure after tasting that piece of at.
No one can resist the allure of braised pork belly; even a god would need three bowls of rice as a base!
Derek and Reggie looked a bit regretfully at Kerry’s and Zhang Yang’s plates but had no choice but to accept their fate of having only a half slice of at.
Both of them were unfamiliar with using chopsticks, but fortunately, they had spoons on their trays. With a bit of effort, they scooped up the at slice and carefully inhaled its aroma as they brought it to their noses.
Hmm?
They exchanged a glance, each seeing surprise in the other’s eyes.
There really wasn’t any gamy sll at all?
Not only that, there was an indescribable aroma that made their stomachs growlingly hungry. What was going on?
The two impatiently stuffed the at into their mouths.
Tentatively prodding it with the tip of their tongues, they unexpectedly found that this simple motion caused the at to collapse into a tender pulp.
Only the uppermost layer of pork skin retained a semblance of its original form.
The rich aroma of the at rapidly spread, heading straight for their taste buds’ quarters.
Derek couldn’t help but clasp his head in amazent.
He was clearly eating a slice of at with a high-fat content, so why didn’t it feel greasy?
This was too incredible!
What was up with this at? It was like an ice cube—lting in the mont it hit the mouth!
And how could a flavor so foreign to his palate leave him craving more?
"Oh my god! This is insane! It feels like the at is lting right in my mouth. Is this Huaxia cuisine? This is incredibly delicious!"
Reggie let out several exclamations of amazent, drawing the gaze of the surrounding students, who then burst into laughter.
But the laughter wasn’t mocking; it was a sense of pride when one’s own prized possession is acknowledged.
Shen Cong also couldn’t help but smile upon hearing Reggie’s voice.
She often saw debates online claiming that videos of foreigners enjoying Chinese food were all for clicks and money, suggesting they didn’t truly find it appetizing due to vast dietary differences, sounding very convincing.
But in Shanghai, as an international tropolis, she encountered many foreigners back when she was studying, including nurous foreign exchange students.
These people might not care for certain dishes or cuisines, but there was always sothing that would break through and captivate their taste buds.
Not to ntion when the White-headed Eagle boss first visited Huaxia, didn’t he devour bowl after bowl of noodles with soy paste? Could you say he did it for traffic or to make money?
And one can’t overlook Beijing’s roast duck.
When the White-headed Eagle departnt boss first visited, it was the roast duck that served as the bridge to ease tense relations.
The first layer was crispy and tender duck skin, the second was silky subcutaneous fat, and the third was rich, succulent duck at.
And after this combination, the departnt boss left with a mouth greasy and full, constantly muttering in the ear of the great man before his departure.
Upon returning to the White-headed Eagle, he frequently visited Chinese restaurants, all for a taste of that exquisite roast duck.
Not long ago, when the big boss from the Bear kingdom visited, didn’t he also succumb to the srizing taste of roast duck?
Music has no boundaries; how could the boundary for food be exceptionally vast?
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