Dao of Cooking

Chapter 19 - Recipe

Recipes were something of a delicate matter for most chefs. Lei had seen his fair share of master cooks who had the flexibility of a wooden pole, refusing to work on anything but their preferred choice of cuisine. He’d also seen others who stretched themselves too thin, becoming a jack of all trades, but master of none. The balance between these two worlds was hard to establish.

But not for Master Lorenzo. That man had the manners of an ox, the temper of a bull, and he was built more like an animal than a human being, for that matter. He was a complete unit, bounding across the kitchen with big, wide steps, his hulking form casting deep shadows over the lesser chefs.

In a kitchen full of lights, it was when you found yourself in the dark that you understood things were about to get real.

They cried, most of the chefs did, after Master Lorenzo claimed his prize. They were encouraged to do so by other experienced cooks, for it was one of the easiest ways to relieve stress. Just like an unclogged sewage pit, you would let the tears pour out from your overfilled tank of emotions.

But though Master Lorenzo treated his team of cooks as if they were worthless scums, anyone who had the fortitude to survive through that hell came out as a veteran chef of the field. His creative classes were known worldwide.

It was from this man who Lei had learned most of his knowledge, and he’d paid the price every single day before a crash claimed his soul.

Time to tap into this mushroom-filled brain of mine, eh, Chef?

Lei sighed deeply as he stared down at the Rootremedy and checked it with the Yellow Maiden’s Eyes.

[Rootremedy: Mortal-grade, Low Quality]

There was a long list of possible recipes coursing through his mind. Soups, salads, deserts, main courses, plat principals, hors d’oeuvres… Seemed as though he could cook anything with these beans, but none of which he was sure would be enough to make that cultivator woman satisfied.

Something fancy, perhaps? Bite-sized spiritual snacks, is it?

That was one of the things he planned on testing. They didn’t have to eat too much Spirited Fried Rice to get high on spiritual energy, right? So it would only make sense to try little bites to see if they could get the same effect from these new plants. If so, they would be looking at a weeks-long journey on the spiritual side, which might end up with them becoming, hell, even Qi Condensation Stage experts.

Back on the business, now.

Shaking his head, Lei imagined Master Lorenzo peering from beyond the grills right at him, his hawkish eyes bloodshot and glinting with rage, one hand wrapped tightly around his knife as if it would take just a simple mistake for him to come slashing down at him.

That proved to be an odd, but effective motivator, as the list of recipes that crowded Lei’s mind began shrinking down into specific, but viable options. Perhaps a vegetarian chili on tortillas? Or a hearty bean stew that would warm the heart from within, and bones too.

It’s already bloody hot outside. And I have three different ingredients. I’m not sure if it’ll be worth it to try a complex meal. Basic… I need basic.

His gaze strayed toward the cooking pot. He’d have some good chicken stock in about an hour. Boil the beans with the stock… but then what?

He pulled his knife from under the counter and spread the stalk before him so that he could see the beans clearly. A slight cut from below the third bean that was close to the root showed him the treasure, and when he rounded the knife the bean slipped from its nest like butter on a hot pan, careful not to cut into the stalk which housed the lingering spiritual energy that got fed into the beans.

Lei held the bean in his left hand. It looked hard as a rock and green without any blemishes, just like a masterfully cut emerald.

To boil it enough to get that soft texture would take at least a couple of hours, and that’s with Lei trying to be optimistic. Or he could leave it to soften overnight in water. If it was effective on chickpeas, then there was no reason why it wouldn’t work on this bead either.

Or I can just do this.

He flourished the knife, sharp side glinting, and let it cut straight into the round bean, slicing it into two halves. It took quite an effort before the hard shell of the bean gave in. Closing his eyes, Lei then placed one of the halves gingerly in his mouth, and bit deep.

A slight crunch. That was the first thing. It was hard to tell if it’d been the bean, or his teeth that produced the sound. Then he pressed further, refusing to budge against some spiritual plant, and the bean dissolved into shrapnels that scattered around his mouth.

There was some liquid in the mix, something refreshing and odd against the roof of his mouth. It stuck there, then dripped slowly down, trickling through his throat. Felt more like a jelly than a real liquid, to be honest. And then those hard pieces of the bean melted into pebbles floating over on a thick river of jelly, its waters frothing and growing denser at each passing second.

He had to flush the taste with a cup of water, or else that river would’ve solidified into a rock-like consistency around his throat. When he gulped the mix with some difficulty, he took a deep breath to gather himself.

What the hell is this thing?

It strangely reminded him of macarons, though the taste wasn’t there, and it had basically tried to jam his throat for good. It was more like an old everything bagel mixed with tiny rocks, coupled with a nasty stench of rotten meat. There was no spirituality to speak of. Nothing like that menthol taste he got from the spirit rice.

There’s not enough chicken stock in this house to turn this into something edible.

Back on the counter, he regarded the other two ingredients, a Gnarled Soul and a Pettydigger which now gave him goosebumps. The Rootremedy was the most normal-looking plant of those three, and even if that tasted like hell, he didn’t want to think about the reaction he’d get when he tried the other plants.

Some good can come from mixing the bad ones, right? All hope is not lost. Not yet, at least.

[Gnarled Soul: Mortal-grade, Low Quality]

The Gnarled Soul, which Lei decided to think of as a twisted form of ginger, had that earthy smell about it. According to the books, this root-like plant was good for the soul and used frequently in mild cases of heart sicknesses or on mourning widows. It had a sedative effect, so he had to be careful not to use too much of it.

I can use a little break from all this, though.

He cut a tiny piece from the gnarled roots. A dreamer could mistake this piece for a potato chip fried with its skin, but the bad taste in Lei’s mouth kept his mind from trying to turn this trial-and-error session into something other than a self-orchestrated form of food torture.

They say fortune favors the brave ones.

Once inside his mouth, the piece started to soften as it sucked all the saliva around it until it became a rather curious manner of gum, one which had been infused with flavors of soil and rock. But there was something else there, caught in the mix, that hinted at a shaded promise.

The menthol taste.

The softer the piece got, the better Lei started getting that tone of spiritual energy from the Gnarled Soul. Soon it shrunk and slid down his throat, spreading an airy feeling about his stomach. He was disappointed when it didn’t spark the start of a minor circle, but then his eyes widened as some thoughts clouding his mind became blurry and distant.

Sedative… Indeed.

It was probably foolish of him to try a sedative plant in this way, but couldn’t say he didn’t like the kick he’d gotten out of it. That made the whole process a little more bearable.

Onto the third ingredient, then.

[Needlestalks: Mortal-grade, Low Quality]

He cocked an eyebrow when the Yellow Maiden’s Eyes showed him a different name. Then again, it only made sense as the name Pettydiggers seemed a touch too informal for a field known for its complex and sumptuous terming.

The plant was often used in traditional treatments, mostly in acupuncture which could open up the mildly clogged meridians or fix the blood flow, or even prove a remedy for high blood pressure.

No wonder why it’s the most valuable of the bunch.

Lei plucked a thin needle from the Needlestalk, tested it against his finger, and scowled when it sunk under his skin smoothly. A tiny droplet of blood slid down his hand as he regarded the rope that wrapped the other needles tightly.

I don’t think I can use this as an ingredient. Maybe I can present these needles on the side, like toothpicks. Here, something for your teeth, eh?

He smiled wryly as he readied himself for the tasting. With one trembling hand, he raised the needle slowly to his mouth and tried not to think too much about it as he bit down. It crunched loudly before a whole new taste filled his mouth.

What is this… garlic?!

His face eased into a blissful smile as Lei turned his tongue around the needle. It was still hard, but under that shell, there was some juice, carrying the faintest hint of garlic and an underlying taste of meaty potatoes. This odd play of tastes tingled Lei’s palate, which was now confused and overwhelmed like a six-year-old kid who had his first share of chocolate milk.

But then something clicked as Lei’s brain started churning one idea after another. This needle was the last ingredient he’d expected to spark all but one recipe in his mind. Fries. They were screaming at him to be fried, and turned into a gorgeous side dish that would be served with…

Beans and ginger. If I can mash the beans and round them up into patties… Grate the Gnarled Souls over on the Needlestalk, and mix them up with some salt and mint.

“Holy McDonald’s!” Lei said aloud, then became speechless as he stared at the counter, his fingers trembling. Something was boiling in the pit of his stomach, something that he found hard to contain there.

It could be that the Gnarled Soul started messing with his mind, making him think that he could work the Rootremedy bean into a spiritual hamburger. The thought was novel, at least. He also had Master Li, a seasoned baker who grasped the recipe of white bread in under one hour, so he wouldn’t sweat a drop if Lei asked him to cook a bunch of puffy buns.

Chef Lorenzo would’ve kicked me in the nuts if he was here.

But then, Chef Lorenzo had always told them to be creative. That was Lei now, being creative in an ancient world of cultivation. Or even groundbreaking, when he thought about it. The only hard thing was to make sure the hamburger and the needle fries were tasty enough for a cultivator.

You people are eating raw pills, and hard meat anyway. What can you possibly know about real taste?

That was the thing. Even those so-called geniuses in xianxia worlds thought mixing and matching a bunch of highly spiritual ingredients made for a good meal. But where was the sauce? Where was that extra juice?

Lemon zest, garlic confit, mixed with a touch of pepper and salt.

Lei placed a hand on the counter, breathing in deep. The numbness around his tongue started wearing off. Seemed to him that tomorrow morning they were going to get high on some spiritual fast food.

….