Chen Mo only knew that the dish was quite good, but he didn’t realize just how good it was. Anyway, it looked pretty tasty, and he had already eaten a plate of it while testing it in the morning, so he didn’t really think about sharing it with Fang Zhizhong and the others.
With another progress bar complete, Chen Mo quickly turned off the tiny fla and picked out the cabbage leaves covering the clay pot, no longer needing them.
The clay pot’s heat-retention feature kept the clear soup inside subtly simring, with eight atballs gently floating in the broth.
The three who had been devouring the tofu instinctively turned their attention to the clay pot.
As soon as the cabbage leaves were lifted, the rich aroma they had been searching for hit them again. Clearly, the enticing scent wasn’t from Zhou Yu’s Lion’s Head atballs in the kitchen, but from Chen Mo’s version!
"No way, aren’t Lion’s Head atballs traditionally known for their light and delicate flavors? How can Xiaochen’s atballs sll this rich?"
"Damn, this doesn’t sll like Lion’s Head atballs. It slls like a big pot of boiled ribs, the clear broth kind."
"Quick, give a bowl!"
The three seed to have lost their minds, with the only thought in their heads being to eat, eat, eat!
Hearing the commotion outside, Zhou Yu, who was sending WeChat ssages in the cafeteria, imdiately stepped out. As soon as he left the cafeteria doors, the aty aroma hit his soul.
"How is it this fragrant?"
He was bewildered too.
Having made Lion’s Head atballs for half his life, Zhou Yu prided himself on knowing every possible thod and flavor of the dish better than anyone.
But the aroma he was slling right now was an experience he hadn’t had in over twenty years of his career.
Eagerly, he ran to the food cart and looked closely.
The clear soup in the clay pot was still gently quivering. The eight Lion’s Head atballs lay in it like snow-white fluffy balls. At so point, Chen Mo had added a few bright red goji berries for garnish, making them look like vermilion in an ink painting.
"But..." Zhou Yu was genuinely at a loss this ti. He had to voice the question in his heart, "Master Chen, I rember you didn’t knead the at filling when you made this dish. How can the unkneaded at filling still hold together after slow-cooking for so long?"
This wasn’t just a question of culinary skills anymore.
This was a matter of physics, damn it.
A batch of unkneaded at filling simply shaped into balls and simred in boiling water for an hour—how could it possibly stay intact?
Is this scientifically possible?
This was also the question on Hou Yao and the others’ minds.
Anyone who’s cooked at ho knows, if you want to make pure pork and green onion dumplings, you have to stir the at filling in one direction continuously while mixing it.
This is the only way to ensure the dumpling filling stays as a coherent mass and provides a soft, chewy texture when eaten. Without this step, the filling would just fall apart.
While ladling soup and atballs into bowls, Chen Mo explained to Zhou Yu.
Initially, he too was puzzled by this concept, as he was just following the recipe without understanding why.
It was only after more attempts that he gradually understood.
It’s not so mystical technique.
"When cutting the at, don’t let the cleaver hit the cutting board. This way, the diced at looks like small granules, but in reality, they’re still connected by tiny strands."
Zhou Yu nodded earnestly, "I understand the rough chopping followed by fine dicing, but even so, after chopping, it would still be granulated at. It shouldn’t achieve this current effect."
Chen Mo felt the older brother was truly anxious, so he continued with a smile, "I also added dry starch while mixing the filling, which helps. And when forming the balls, you pat the surface with wet starch, which also helps shape them."
Zhou Yu listened while contemplating, realizing that Chen Mo’s explanations made sense, but felt it couldn’t account for the large atball staying together for an hour in boiling water.
"Of course, the most important part is controlling the heat."
Pop~
Chen Mo turned the stove knob. At the mont, they weren’t in the cooking process, so there was no progress bar present, but his attempts throughout the entire morning, combined with the concentration he had just displayed, gave him an initial mastery of the technique.
He adjusted the heat imdiately when the remaining soup in the clay pot started to ripple slightly, and said, "See, just like this. It’s about controlling the heat to achieve this effect in the soup."
"The boiling point of water is a hundred degrees, so by controlling the heat, you keep the water just about to hit a hundred degrees but not quite. You see, when the water in the pot isn’t boiling, the atballs are essentially soaking in water, so how can they fall apart?"
Hearing this, Zhou Yu felt his mind buzzing.
What kind of bizarre explanation was this?
Of course, in theory, this type of heat control could be achieved, but the recurring question was: is this scientifically plausible?
"No more talk, let’s try my Lion’s Head atballs. Ah, if there were chicken soup, it could be even more flavorful."
The subsequent words fell on deaf ears for Zhou Yu, his mind stuck on the concept of maintaining an infinite balance close to a hundred degrees.
Hou Yao picked up a small bowl and carefully observed the surface of the atballs, which were littered with fine pores. The parts soaking in the broth glead with a glossy sheen, and there was not a trace of oil slick on the broth’s surface, only a thin strip of fat haloing the edge where the Lion’s Head t the broth, like it was ringed with a halo.
The previous tofu binge made them exercise caution this ti, so they didn’t rush but brought the bowls close and inhaled deeply.
After all, the pork aroma released when the pot was opened was overwhelmingly delicious.
"Hey? It’s less fragrant up close. How strange."
"Yeah, it seems like the cabbage aroma is stronger than the pork. It’s really odd."
"Whatever, I’m trying it first."
Hou Yao aid his spoon at the edge of the Lion’s Head and scooped it.
Wow!
The mont the spoon touched it, it broke apart, effortlessly holding half the Lion’s Head on the spoon, as if the spoon encountered no resistance.
"It looks like this Lion’s Head is tender and chewy, unlike Master Zhou’s which is tender and bouncy," Hou Yao thought to himself.
Unable to wait, he quickly sent the chunk of at into his mouth.
"Hmm?"
The four of them froze, eyes widened. This...
The Lion’s Head lted in their mouths, with their tongues distinctly feeling its grainy texture, both from the at and the water chestnuts. Before they could chew, the particles seed to lt into juice, flowing freely in their mouths.
The native sweetness of the pork served as the base note, while the fatty scent, through gentle slow-cooking, was tad to a delicate creamy aroma, leaving no trace of greasiness.
What lingered on the tongue were only the water chestnut and a few particles of lean at.
They began chewing again.
The granulated lean at was tender and resilient. The water chestnuts were crisp and sprang back when bitten. After a few chews, the ingredients slipped down to the throat and into the stomach, and the rich, savory taste lingered warmly from throat to belly.
How comforting!
indescribable feeling, just purely enjoyable to eat.
"It slled richly aty, but the taste is subtly fresh and llow. The texture is comfortable," Hou Yao said, closing his eyes and savoring with pursed lips, gently shaking his head. "How is it both fluffy and firm? It makes no scientific sense!"
Zhou Yu had two or three more bites and drank half a bowl of the soup.
With a complex expression, he looked at Chen Mo and asked the most curious question in his heart.
"Little brother, may I ask, who is your master?"
The renowned chefs of Huaiyang Cuisine throughout history could be counted on one hand, and among the living, only a few were recognized as masters.
To make Lion’s Head atballs and Mirror Box Tofu to this level, Zhou Yu was convinced that this young man before him had to be a disciple of such a master!
Chen Mo felt awkward.
It wasn’t the first ti he’d been asked this question; before, Hou Yao had pursued him with the sa inquiry, but he truly hadn’t apprenticed under anyone.
If he had to na a master.
With solemn seriousness, Chen Mo took out his phone and waved it at Zhou Yu.
"Don’t you check recipes on Douyin and Xiaohongshu before cooking?"
Monts ago, Zhou Yu was still imrsed in the exquisite cuisine and found it difficult to pull himself out, but now, suddenly, he was choked by Chen Mo’s words.
No way, you’re telling you learned from Douyin?
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