The Game of Life

Chapter 347: Chapter 346: Birthday Dinner (Part 4)

While the chicken was marinating, Xia Mushi neatly diced the rest of the vegetables into equally sized, small squares of varying colors, which looked quite presentable.

Then Jiang Feng witnessed the birth of Xia Shafu Roast Chicken.

Xia Mushi mixed the chicken with black pepper and stir-fried it in a wok. Because the chicken was in large chunks, flipping them with the spoon made the task significantly more difficult.

When the chicken was about sixty percent cooked, Xia Mushi turned off the heat, switched to a flat-bottomed pan, smeared a layer of oil on the bottom, and cooked the chicken on low heat.

Chicken is meant to be pan-fried, a step Zhang Guanghang had mentioned to him before, which he hadn’t forgotten.

As the chicken fried in the pan and the heat gently worked its way through, the oily surface began to sizzle, the oil seeping from the inside out. The color deepened, and the aroma of the chicken itself began to take on the flavors of the seasoning.

Xia Mushi then turned his attention to the pork belly that was already cooked, multitasking with two dishes at the same time.

The Imperial Palace Ten Thousand Fortune Meat recipe was intricate and complex, not only because it involved a variety of steps but also because it demanded extremely precise knifework.

As a signature imperial dish, Imperial Palace Ten Thousand Fortune Meat showcased the strengths and weaknesses of royal cuisine to a great extent. First, the name had to sound appealing, making one feel rich and pleased just by hearing it, and eager to try the dish. If even Zhu Yuanzhang, who was not yet an emperor, could name a dish of tofu stewed with wilted vegetable leaves “Pearl Jade White Jade Soup”, one can only imagine what those indulging in extreme opulence, such as the last emperors, would come up with.

Having a good name was just the first step, choosing expensive ingredients was the second. Whatever was rare was used, and whatever was precious was included. Royal cuisine had very strict requirements for the origin, quality, part, and size of the ingredients. Even the salt used in cooking had to be meticulously picked from thousands of pounds of salt, not to mention the utensils used, which had to be valuable collectibles. Whether ivory inlaid on chopsticks would be uncomfortable to use was not a concern for the common folk.

The budget of ninety thousand taels of silver set by a certain Qing Dynasty emperor for a simple street snack from the Internal Affairs Office may not be entirely baseless.

Imperial Palace Ten Thousand Fortune Meat was one such example. In terms of ingredient selection, Xia Mushi had done his best. He wasn’t an imperial chef and couldn’t just have all the delicacies of the world laid out before him to choose from. The fact that he could pick the finest pork belly from the limited number of pigs slaughtered daily at the market was already the limit of what he could achieve.

Xia Mushi glanced at the chicken frying in the pan next to him and began slicing the pork.

To make Imperial Palace Ten Thousand Fortune Meat, one must first cut the pork belly from a chunk into a long strip and then roll it back into a chunk shape so that the cooked meat would look like a blooming flower and be visually appealing. The process was somewhat similar to peeling an apple; a master at peeling apples could peel off a long, thin, uninterrupted strip of apple skin, and a culinary expert could do the same with a piece of pork belly.

Turning the knife at each corner was a test for the chef.

Xia Mushi prepared four pieces of pork belly, spending more than ten minutes just on slicing. He even flipped the chicken in the pan during the process, taking multitasking to the extreme.

Once the meat was sliced, it was time to cook—not the meat, but the sauce. Jiang Feng watched as Xia Mushi added various sauces and spices including yellow wine, light soy sauce, dark soy sauce, white sugar, scallion pieces, ginger slices, star anise, and Sichuan peppercorns to oil in the wok, stir-frying them until they turned a deep color, making it clear that Ten Thousand Fortune Meat was a dish with strong flavors.

After finishing the sauce, Xia Mushi turned off the neighboring stove, changed the pot, and placed the chicken and some beef broth—borrowed from who knows where—into the pot for a slow simmer, covered the pot with a lid, and left it to fate.

Then Xia Mushi began to fry the Ten Thousand Fortune Meat; the frying time was very short, just tens of seconds, long enough to shape the meat and crisp the skin a bit. Afterwards, he lined the bottom of the bowl with the fried meat, skin facing down, poured the stir-fried sauce and broth into the bowl, and steamed it.

The major tasks were handled, leaving only the side tasks remaining.

Xia Mushi turned his attention to the diced vegetables he had prepared earlier.

Zhang Guanghang had bought butter, but Xia Mushi never used butter in his cooking. However, since it was bought, he couldn’t let it go to waste and decided to stir-fry the remaining vegetables with it, then tossed them, still half-cooked, into the pot with the beef broth to stew with the chicken.

Surprisingly, it had a bit of a French cuisine vibe to it.

With the vegetables taken care of, all that was left were the lemon and apple.

Xia Mushi stared at the apple, lost in thought.

To be honest, he knew how to cook with apple, but the dish he knew didn’t seem to have much to do with French cuisine.

No matter, he’d figure it out as he cooked.

Xia Mushi began slicing the apple.

Jiang Feng’s eyes moistened.

Such a familiar process, Xia Mushi was truly Chen Qiusheng’s apprentice, and Chen Qiusheng was indeed the once second-in-command chef at Taifeng Building. The method of making crispy apple was exactly the same, without the slightest difference!

“Xiaohang, it seems like someone has come to the front hall, go check if there are any guests,” said Xia Mushi, calling Zhang Guanghang away at a crucial moment when the apple was about to be deep-fried.

No wonder Zhang Guanghang had no memory of the crispy apple, it turned out he hadn’t seen how it was made at all.

When Zhang Guanghang returned from the front hall, the crispy apple had already been fried and plated.

“Master, Mr. Chu has ordered an ‘exceptional crispy pastry’, ‘double crispy explosion’, ‘yellow braised shark fin’, and ‘Su-style elbow’,” reported Zhang Guanghang.

“Today we don’t have shark fin, you go… just sit down over there, I’ll go talk to him,” Xia Mushi remembered the birthday gift of a child not having to work on their birthday.

Having said that, Xia Mushi casually placed the freshly fried crispy apple onto a white porcelain plate and walked out, with Jiang Feng quickly following behind.

“Oh, Master Xia, what brings you out here?” In the front hall sat three middle-aged men, one of whom promptly stood up upon seeing Xia Mushi appear, “Was there something missing you needed? You could have just sent your apprentice to fetch it.”

“There is no shark fin today, so I can’t make the braised shark fin, Mr. Chu, you’d better choose another dish,” Xia Mushi said.

Mr. Chu’s face suddenly showed difficulty, and he said, “No braised shark fin? Master Xia, can’t you think of something? Today we are hosting a big boss from the south, and this braised shark fin is the main event.”

“I can’t do anything without the ingredients, better choose another dish,” Xia Mushi said and was about to go inside when he suddenly remembered something, “However, I just bought some fresh pork belly this morning and there’s still some left. How about we switch to Imperial Palace Ten Thousand Fortune Meat?”

Mr. Chu’s worries turned to joy: “There’s Ten Thousand Fortune Meat today? That’s really kind of you, Master Xia. With the Ten Thousand Fortune Meat, who needs braised shark fin!”

“By the way, I heard Mr. Chu, you often do business with foreigners?” Xia Mushi asked.

“What, Master Xia, do you want to get some foreign ingredients?” Mr. Chu was interested.

“What for, those things aren’t useful. I was wondering if Mr. Chu can speak French?”

“French? Master Xia, you want to learn French? I don’t speak French, but I can say a couple of words in English. We usually have a translator with us for business, I just say hello and whatnot.” Mr. Chu suddenly recalled that Zhang Guanghang seemed to be French, “Has your apprentice said something that you didn’t understand? Do you need me to find you a French interpreter?”

After thinking for a while, Xia Mushi said, “No need, English will do. Do you know how to say ‘happy birthday’ in English?”

Mr. Chu was startled, then had a realization: “So today is your apprentice’s birthday! No wonder you suddenly thought of making Ten Thousand Fortune Meat today. How do you say ‘happy birthday,’ let me think. It seems to be… ha… happy… ha… something fourth?”

“Happy birthday, right?” Another middle-aged man revealed his knowledge discreetly.

“Yes, yes, that’s it!” Mr. Chu became like a wise man after the fact.

“Ha… happy what? Say it slowly,” Xia Mushi furrowed his brows.

“Happy birthday.”

“Ha… pee… burs… day?”

“Close enough, Happy birthday.”

“Ha… pee… burst… day?”

“Exactly, just about right, you just say it quickly when the time comes.”

“Okay,” Xia Mushi murmured silently to himself as he walked back to the kitchen.

Zhang Guanghang was still sitting on the small chair when he saw Xia Mushi come in, he pointed to the pot cooking chicken and said, “Master, I checked the pot just now and the beef soup had dried up so I turned off the heat.”

Xia Mushi nodded, went to the pot, lifted the lid, and, surprisingly, it still looked rather good. He plated it, sprinkled the crisply fried apples on top, and since he had sliced a couple of lemons and placed them on the side of the dish, he was technically using lemons. The Shafu Roast Chicken was complete.

His memory was limited these days due to his age, and he had to make every second count.

“Xiaohang, the Shafu Roast Chicken is ready, come and try it,” Xia Mushi called over to Zhang Guanghang.

Zhang Guanghang obediently came forward to take some chopsticks.

In Fen Garden, there were only spoons and chopsticks, no matter what kind of food from which country, one could only eat with spoons and chopsticks.

Zhang Guanghang picked up a piece of crispy apple.

“Hap… Happy burs… day!” Xia Mushi seized the opportunity.

Zhang Guanghang was taken aback.

Thinking he had said something wrong, Xia Mushi’s face turned red, “I was just saying, you keep eating, keep eating.”

After he finished speaking, he went to check the steamer with the Ten Thousand Fortune Meat.

Zhang Guanghang looked at Xia Mushi and stuffed a large piece of crispy apple into his mouth.

His cheeks puffed out slightly as he chewed slowly, bite by bite.

“Merci.” (Thank you)

“Grand-père.” (Grandfather)

A mist clouded Jiang Feng’s eyes.

“Je t’aime.” (I love you)

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