Gourmet: From a Stall in Northern Europe Chapter 419 - 331: Forget Work, Eating Comes First

"So delicious!"

"It’s subtle, with a hint of saltiness, and tastes like a blend of at broth and seafood soup, like the consommé you’d get at a fancy restaurant."

"I never thought boiled atballs could be this tasty. Why didn’t I think of boiling them before?"

Watching the two people hurry away, Blake’s lips curled into a smug smile.

Fortunately, he had a clear understanding of his own appetite, buying thirty atballs at once, unlike those two fools; ten wouldn’t even fill the gap between their teeth.

These novel handmade atballs are noticeably larger than the usual tomato atballs outside, almost the size of half an orange, perfect for stuffing one into your mouth in one go.

The sensation of chewing big bites while savoring the juice bursting out is so delightful, it made him almost unable to stop.

He could swear he had never tasted atballs with such a bouncy texture in his life; it completely shattered his preconceived notions about atballs.

"Delicious, delicious! So delicious!!"

Lin Chen had already started preparing a new batch of atballs since he saw those three being sent back.

Two pots set on the stove; one for cooking squid and shrimp balls, the other for pork balls, to avoid mixing flavors.

Lucas had already raised his cara, adjusting the shooting angle, getting ready to welco the incoming crowd and also docunt the serving process.

At this ti, the restaurant must have already opened; those diners who didn’t see the food stall must have learned that Lin Chen ran to the farm to set up shop.

There might not be many people coming directly for breakfast, but there certainly will be tourists coming to enjoy the farm after breakfast.

Moreover, the number of guests staying at the hotel far exceeds the capacity the restaurant can accommodate, so so who can’t eat breakfast and don’t want to queue might head straight here.

All these circumstances were within Lin Chen’s consideration, so he was well-prepared with sufficient stock today.

atballs are, at best, considered snacks, not ant for a full al, and normally people wouldn’t think of eating atballs to fullness.

He reckoned the most likely scenario would be people buying a bit of each flavor to try, then returning to the restaurant for lunch or dining at another restaurant in town.

He wasn’t even worried about the stall becoming overcrowded like at the restaurant entrance, leisurely squeezing atballs one by one.

The reason is simple: because the farm is in the suburbs, those who can co to experience it are only hotel guests, and the most cost-effective way to travel between the two places is the shuttle bus.

The hotel has five buses stationed at the parking lot, ready to depart anyti, with one departing every hour; if full, they depart early, and one bus can seat up to thirty guests.

Recently, business at the farm has been booming, and a bus full of passengers arrives almost every half hour, per the statistics John had already provided him with.

This ans that every half hour, he only has to deal with around thirty tourists at most.

And not necessarily all thirty tourists would want to buy his food, so there’s really nothing to rush about.

While he was slowly molding the atballs, a dense sound of footsteps ca from the direction of the wooden house, accompanied by increasingly loud chatter.

They’re here!

His hands moved faster, boosting the heat slightly to avoid the atballs cooking too slowly and wasting ti.

After squeezing one pot of squid balls, he washed his hands and imdiately started on the pork balls in the other pot, efficiently speeding up the process.

"Hey! There’s really a food stall hidden here; when did it get here?"

"Could it have arrived before we started work? The key to the driving lane seems to be with the manager."

"Shhh! Keep it down, look over there; John’s here..."

"Hell, could John have opened the door? Does he even know how to wake up early?"

"I don’t believe it anyway."

A group of employees thronged over, and upon spotting the figure seated on plastic stools, everyone’s volu automatically decreased significantly, becoming humble and respectful.

John nodded with satisfaction, glancing at them with feigned nonchalance.

"If you want to buy breakfast, be quick; the first batch of guests is about to arrive. Don’t let the guests see you all eating without the slightest sense of service."

The employees nodded repeatedly in agreent, quickly walking over to Dais and Elsa, peering into the bowl on the table, so looking at the food stall window and nu.

"Three flavors of atballs, only one euro each? So cheap?"

"These atballs are much larger than the ones sold in restaurant outside, freshly handmade too, great value!"

"Please give five of each flavor, thank you!"

"Can I have one of each flavor to taste first?"

"Sure."

Elsa and Dais started busily working again; this ti, Lin Chen didn’t offer tasting services, as the unit price was so cheap, and atballs were the most popular among foreigners, sales weren’t a worrying matter.

If you want to taste the flavor, just buy one of each to try. There’s no need to waste ti and effort cutting the atballs for tasting; earning an extra dollar is still earning.

Soon, the employees who tasted the handmade atballs had eyes shining like searchlights, expressions full of disbelief.

"Why are these atballs so bouncy? It’s incredible!"

"I swear, these are the best atballs I’ve ever had in my life, bar none!"

"It’s the sa pork atball made by hand, so why can’t the atballs sold elsewhere achieve this taste? There’s no need to chew; it lts with just a touch of the tongue, and the aty aroma is super rich!"

"This shrimp and corn atball is also unbelievably tasty, just like eating countless fresh shrimp pieces. Both texture and flavor are top-notch. I bet even Michelin restaurant atballs wouldn’t taste much better than this!"

"Wasn’t there talk last week during the kite festival that a Michelin three-star head chef ca to learn the craft? Could it be this head chef?"

"It must be. I don’t believe any other cook could make such magically flavored atballs—only the mysterious Great Xia People could do it."

The employees quickly sang praises of the atballs to the skies.

However, after their tasting and the purchases made by the first three custors, the first batch of atballs had sold out completely. To buy more, one would have to wait for the second batch being cooked in the pot.

They weren’t in a hurry, but John, sitting in the back sipping atball soup idly, was rolling his eyes dramatically.

"Lin, can you speed it up a bit? No need to go so slow. You weren’t this slow yesterday."

Lin Chen chuckled and nodded, quickening his pace. He used a strainer to scoop up the round, plump white atballs from the pot into a small basin, added a few scoops of hot soup and handed it out, where Elsa—who had been waiting by the window—quickly took it and poured it into a bowl on the table.

Adding two scoops of cold water into the pot, Lin Chen swiftly started making shrimp and corn atballs, all the while keeping a close eye on the pot of pork atballs beside him.

Although these atballs wouldn’t beco overcooked, as a chef, there’s an instinctual desire to dish out food at the perfect level of doneness.

Just-cooked atballs offer the best texture and juiciness, while cooking them too long might cause the juices to leak or the flavor to diminish, lacking that delicious taste.

"Here they co! Freshly cooked cuttlefish balls!"

"I want so, I want five, please!!"

"I want five too!!"

"Then I’ll take six!"

"Everyone, please don’t rush. There will be enough for each of you."

This ti, Dais didn’t use plastic lunch boxes. Instead, she grabbed a handful of disposable paper cups, spread them out on the counter and ladled atballs into them by quantity, topping them off with half a cup of broth each.

The paper cups had limited capacity, accommodating at most four atballs. For a fifth, the custor would need to use a bamboo skewer to hold it.

The employees didn’t mind this at all. Usually, they ate hot dogs with just napkins as a barrier, grabbing them directly, so having paper cups was quite an upgrade. It was more convenient and environntally friendly, conserving resources.

No one seed eager to leave either, remaining nonchalant despite John’s murderous glare, gathering around the table and enjoying the atballs in hand, nodding and expressing their admiration for the delicious handmade atballs.

They would occasionally add so sweet and sour sauce for pairing, taking a sip of the steaming, delicious atball soup, feeling utter bliss.

The freshly cooked cuttlefish balls were extrely savory, enhancing the innate flavor of the cuttlefish. The little bits of cuttlefish tentacles mixed in the atball starkly contrasted with the tender texture of the cuttlefish atball.

The texture of the cuttlefish tentacles was quite chewy, sowhat similar to squid tentacles but softer, while the atball’s texture was akin to a mousse-like fish paste.

The little orange flying fish roe inside the atballs had also been cooked. Though they didn’t explode in the mouth as they did raw, they still offered a burst of flavor when they broke.

As everyone was absorbed in the deliciousness of the cuttlefish balls, the mushroom and pork atballs also erged from the pot.

Though these atballs didn’t appear as white as the cuttlefish balls, they were sowhat whitish compared to the commonly known brown pork atballs, looking much different.

Upon closer inspection, one could see many semi-transparent white and brown granules scattered across their surface.

With the taste of the cuttlefish balls still lingering, the employees didn’t hesitate long, quickly clearing out the paper cups of atballs and draining them of their delicious broth, then passing the empty cups back.

"Five, please!"

"I’ll have five too."

The mushroom pork atballs were quickly snapped up in a matter of seconds after being ladled into the bowls, and the group of employees resud savoring their entirely different deliciousness, each with their paper cup.

At this mont, a small car drove up from outside the farm—not a big brand, but an older, low-cost model instead.

Nagishiro Sho got out of the car, took a deep breath of the fresh outdoor air, and stepped into the hall.

Hearing footsteps, Blake, who was eating and sweating profusely, instinctively glanced around, realizing for the first ti that the entire hall had beco empty and desolate at so point, leaving only him.

Yet, he was responsible only for leading farm tours, not ticket sales!

"Sorry, sir, but we’re not open for business yet..."