The higher Wang Fan’s Chef Level, the more strange and unusual information the system unlocks.
This information just quietly lies in his mind; if Wang Fan doesn’t go looking through it, it won’t proactively dive into his brain.
Back in school, morizing texts, formulas, and vocabulary was agony for him, but learning this knowledge brings him sweet joy.
When he explained the molecular gastronomy theory, he clearly left Kurban and the others dumbfounded.
Wang Fan breathed a sigh of relief; as long as he managed to impress them, he was truly afraid of their overly enthusiastic flattery.
After lifting the clay pot, he didn’t rush to serve the dish. Instead, he added the remaining seasonings and gave the at a nice color.
Then he placed the whole clay pot back into the stear.
After covering the lid and starting the steam, he turned to make black fish egg soup.
Dinner still followed the soup-first-then-al pattern. Since the Dongpo Pork still needed so ti to steam, it was just the right ti to make the soup.
The black fish eggs had already been torn into pieces and soaked in the basin. Multiple washes had removed excess saltiness.
True to its na, black fish eggs are the eggs of black fish. Each small torn piece represents a tiny black fish.
The tiny black fish eggs are pure white, looking very glossy and textural, and their round shape is slightly larger than a coin.
He brought a pot of water to a boil, added so rice wine, and then poured the black fish eggs into the pot.
"Black fish eggs can nurture life. Hence, all its amino acids are perfectly balanced, and it contains all the vitamins and minerals necessary for nurturing life, making it an exceptionally nutritious ingredient."
While preparing, Wang Fan explained these molecular theories, leaving Kurban and the others in utter bewildernt. Their carbon pens scribbled rapidly, and for words they weren’t sure of, they jotted them down phonetically, fearing to miss anything.
"Blanch them for a minute, then adjust the base flavor of the chicken consommé."
The chicken consommé had been simring on the stove with a very low fla. After speaking, he turned off the heat entirely.
For seasoning, he added simple ingredients: a small amount of salt, a bit of sugar to enhance thickness and flavor, a pinch of white pepper, and so pickled cucumber juice.
After a brief stir, he poured two ladles of soup into the bowl containing the black fish eggs.
As Zhuo Qianqian walked in, she saw the five chefs writing furiously, but thought nothing of it and walked out carrying the freshly made soup.
However, this ti she wouldn’t return; Wang Fan would take the next main course to Grandma Wu as a farewell gesture.
Alzheir’s patients may forget many things and process information more slowly, but they are not fools; they still possess basic cognitive abilities.
The elderly gave high praise to the ticulously crafted dishes by Wang Fan.
These complints weren’t just spoken; they were demonstrated.
Every dish that was served was eaten to the very last bit by the elderly, proving Wang Fan’s culinary skills through their actions.
The black fish egg soup was now placed in front of the elderly as well.
She picked up a spoonful, lifting a thin layer of black fish eggs and so broth, and sucked it into her mouth.
The rich, savory chicken consommé was enhanced with pickled cucumber juice, adding a fresh tang to the flavor.
This soup was originally seasoned with vinegar, but the pickled cucumber juice, being a fernted product, was gentler compared to vinegar.
With a sip of the broth, Grandma Wu experienced the explosion of sour, spicy, salty, and savory flavors breaking through her taste buds. Upon savoring it further, the soup was stable, lingering, gentle, and enduring.
The elderly lady loved the flavor, the white porcelain spoon never resting, bringing more soup to her mouth, and the delicate black fish eggs were easy to chew, even with her old teeth.
Zhuo Qianqian took out a notebook and handed it to Auntie Cai, saying, "Auntie Cai, this notebook contains so recipes suitable for Grandma, written by the boss, with all the necessary precautions noted. You can pass it on to the chef in charge later."
Moved, Auntie Cai accepted the notebook, "Thank you so much, Grandma Wu is well taken care of here; she didn’t have such a good appetite before."
...
At this ti, the Dongpo Pork was finally finished.
Wang Fan opened the stear and took out the clay pot. The at had developed an additional softness in its aroma, making it even more appetizing.
Kurban and his companions stopped writing and curiously observed today’s main dish.
Of course, they wouldn’t eat it, and they would probably never cook it either, but learning by analogy, they could try substituting pork with beef later; it might even taste better.
As for cooking pork in front of them, they didn’t mind. Firstly, the al was made specifically for Grandma Wu, who is Han Chinese and has no such restrictions. Moreover, it’s a dish from her hotown, so no one would say anything.
Secondly, although many in Great Border don’t eat pork, pig farming plays a significant role in its economy, which is not like how it was before.
Kurban was already considering whether substituting pork with beef brisket would be feasible.
When Wang Fan lifted the clay pot lid, Kurban realized that beef brisket might not work.
It was too eye-catching!
The square, bright red pork pieces lay quietly in the clay pot.
Wang Fan gently picked up a piece with chopsticks, and the Dongpo Pork jiggled continuously with his movent. Placed on a plate, it truly looked like red agate, translucent red, seeming soft and delicious.
Since the others didn’t eat pork, Wang Fan didn’t taste test it himself. Making is making, eating is eating, and eating in front of them would be inappropriate. Fortunately, his in-laws’ family had no such taboos.
With this dish finished, today’s or rather this ti’s educational exchange was officially over. Kurban and his companions left content with their notebooks, and Wang Fan carried the Dongpo Pork to Grandma Wu’s room.
As soon as the lid of the serving dish was lifted, the rich aroma of the at quickly dispersed.
In the white porcelain plate were just two pieces of pork belly, tied with grass strings, which is the traditional way known as "Five Flowers Bound."
The bright red sauce trickling down from the Dongpo Pork naturally ford a small, bright red lake beneath the at, and without any decoration, it was already stunningly beautiful.
Perhaps the familiar aroma awakened Grandma Wu’s mory; she looked at the Dongpo Pork in front of her and smiled joyfully.
The Dongpo Pork before her looked like a piece of crystal-clear agate. The vibrant red was a perfect fusion of caralized sugar and soy sauce, reflecting a soft sheen under the light that made one’s mouth water.
Grandma Wu gently pressed the spoon into the gelatinous at, producing an enticing "squeak" sound, making one’s mouth salivate just from hearing it.
Upon closing in, the rich aroma of the at wafted over, lingering lightly with the fragrance of wine, prompting Grandma Wu to take a deep breath involuntarily.
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