klisemfg Chapter 123 No one can delay my senior brother from cooking.
Chapter 123 No one can delay my senior brother from cooking.
Somewhere in the capital city, a thousand miles away.
In a private restaurant of extremely high standards, which usually only caters to truly important figures, the kitchen lights were so bright they were almost blinding.
The air was filled with a faint, elegant fragrance of matsutake mushrooms.
On the long stainless steel cutting board, a dazzling array of top-quality ingredients, freshly air-freighted from all over the country, are on display: fresh ginseng from Changbai Mountain, abalone from Jiaodong that has just arrived from the airport and still carries seawater, and a whole box of top-quality beef, neatly arranged and gleaming with snowflake-like marbling under the light.
"The seed removal rate of Dahongpao peppercorns must reach more than 98%."
I've told you countless times, that layer of bitter skin left on top will completely ruin the sweet aftertaste when the broth is cooked. Do you understand?!
A man around thirty years old, dressed in a snow-white chef's uniform, had his hands on the cutting board, his eyes sharp as a newly sharpened knife, staring intently at a young man beside him.
His name is Song Ming. At a young age, he has already secured his position as a state banquet chef in the highly competitive Beijing catering industry.
"I...I understand, Master." At this moment, the apprentice's forehead was covered in sweat, which was splattering onto the cutting board.
He held a pair of fine tweezers in his hand, carefully picking through a pile of bright red peppercorns, his arms trembling slightly with nervousness.
"The ginseng from Changbai Mountain must be cleaned of mud with a bamboo knife and must not be touched with iron."
The abalone needs to be rubbed repeatedly with cold boiled water three times to remove the fishy smell. I...I remember that.
Song Ming listened to his apprentice's somewhat trembling response. His expression remained tense, but the sternness in his eyes softened a little.
He was about to raise his hand to wipe it on the sterile towel next to him, and then check the cooking time of the broth that had been simmering for twelve hours.
"Ring ring ring—!!"
A sudden, jarring cell phone ringtone broke the silence of the kitchen.
Song Ming's brows furrowed sharply.
In his kitchen, rules are paramount; everyone's cell phone must be silenced and locked in a cabinet while working.
He glanced at his apprentice beside him, about to explode, when he realized the voice was coming from his own pocket.
Song Ming impatiently took out his personal cell phone.
When his gaze fell on the phone number on the screen, his face, which had been filled with seriousness and authority, changed completely in an instant.
It was a complex expression that mixed shock, ecstasy, and even a hint of disbelief.
Song Ming didn't even have time to say a word to his apprentice. He pressed the answer button with his right hand and asked a series of urgent questions.
"Senior brother?! You've finally contacted me!!"
Song Ming's shout was so loud that it startled his apprentice, who was picking peppercorns with tweezers, causing him to drop a peppercorn he had painstakingly picked out back into the basket.
The apprentice stared at his master, somewhat dumbfounded.
Although he hadn't been with Song Ming for very long.
But he knew all too well what kind of status this young chef held in the capital. Normally, when business tycoons worth billions or even prominent figures from all walks of life came to dine, the chef would at most nod and greet them respectfully. When had he ever seen Song Ming show such a close, excited, and respectful attitude?
Who exactly is this person whom the master calls "senior brother"?
"You submitted your resignation without a word, and disappeared without even saying goodbye!!"
Song Ming had no time to pay attention to his apprentice's horrified look. He gripped his phone, his eyes slightly red.
"For the past month, everyone in the hospital has been frantically searching for you!"
"You don't answer my calls, and you don't reply to my WeChat messages. My master was so angry about this that he had a stroke and smashed two of his beloved Yixing teapots at home! Where have you been, brother?!"
On the other end of the phone, a black sedan was driving on the road back to the old town.
Chen Feng gripped the steering wheel with one hand, listening to Song Ming's barrage of questions and complaints, a complex mix of emotions flashing across his face.
One month ago.
Just about a month ago, he was the youngest and most respected head chef for state banquets in Beijing.
Those hands, in the highly anticipated state banquet hall, have prepared countless culinary masterpieces representing the pinnacle of Chinese cuisine for foreign heads of state.
But those lofty honors were ultimately not the down-to-earth life he craved.
He dared not tell his master and the others, fearing they would try to persuade him to stay and that he would be reluctant to leave.
But for Mengmeng's sake, and for his reputation as a "human touch," he eventually took off his chef's uniform without a word and returned to this dilapidated old street alone with his daughter.
"I didn't want to continue working there anymore; I felt it was too tiring, so I left." Chen Feng's voice was low and remarkably calm.
"Mingzi, I'm in the south of the city right now, and I've run into a little trouble. Could you get me some goods?"
Upon hearing the word "trouble," Song Ming's initially excited voice froze for a moment.
Without any hesitation or unnecessary words.
"Senior brother, please stop talking. Those of us who come from our sect have never been mistreated by anyone outside."
What happened? Send me the address on WeChat, I'll check it now.
Do you want meat or some top-quality mountain produce?
As long as it's within the territory of China, there's no goods that Song Ming can't procure!
"Nothing fancy is needed. Just regular, high-quality pork belly, ginger, scallions, dried shiitake mushrooms... that'll do."
Chen Feng glanced at Su Chen, who appeared somewhat unconscious in the rearview mirror, and spoke calmly.
"I've already sent you the address via WeChat. The other party used some tricks in this market to cut off all the supply of goods from individual vendors in this area."
This afternoon, my friend's shop was desperately waiting for the meat to be cooked.
"Cut off your goods?!" Upon hearing this, Song Ming sneered in the kitchen of the capital, slamming his hand heavily on the stainless steel cutting board in front of him.
"This guy's got a death wish. Don't worry, senior brother, I'll get the goods you need in an hour!!"
"Thanks, Mingzi. Come to my shop another day, I'll have a couple of drinks with you." Chen Feng didn't say much more, and hung up the phone decisively after speaking.
On the other end of the phone.
Hearing the busy tone from his phone, Song Ming slowly took it away from his ear.
He stood there, his face, which appeared to be about thirty years old, now replaced by an aura of authority that had previously been gentle and excited.
"Master... who exactly is this senior brother...?" The disciple swallowed hard and asked, stammering slightly.
Song Ming glanced at his apprentice but did not answer his question.
His senior brother was the only one in their generation who, in his twenties, single-handedly defeated the masters of the eight major cuisines and was praised by their master as a "once-in-a-century culinary god."
A month ago, Chen Feng left Beijing, saying he didn't want to play anymore.
But now, those ignorant and worldly capitalists want to use such despicable means as "cutting off supplies" to force a former chief executive of state banquets, who once stood at the top of China's catering industry, to his death.
This was the greatest humiliation for their entire school of martial arts, and a disgrace to the chefs.
"Stop picking through those broken peppercorns!!"
Song Ming suddenly turned around, his eyes burning with fire.
He ripped off his white chef's hat, grabbed the phone from the cutting board, and yelled at his apprentice.
"Go! Notify the people at the South Branch!"
Call the owners of the biggest fresh food cold storage facilities in the South District and tell them it's my order, Song Ming's, to bring them all the finest pork belly and the freshest scallions to this address today!
Song Ming transmitted the location of the old street on his phone screen to his apprentice, speaking slowly and deliberately.
"No one can stop my senior brother from cooking!!"