Chapter 887 The food was too hard to eat. After eating for a while, the guy's stomach just couldn't take it anymore.

Old Sun took a sip of coffee, frowned, and said to Old Zhao in a low voice, "This stuff doesn't even taste as good as the dishwater from our institute's canteen."

Old Zhao didn't say anything, but silently broke the noodles into pieces and soaked them in coffee. This was a method they had figured out over the past few days to barely make the noodles swallowable.

But the burnt, bitter taste of coffee mixed with the sourness of fermented dough really doesn't make it delicious.

Lu Qingyang looked at the half-cooked fried egg, the cold ham slices, and the bowl of "mushroom soup" on the plate in front of him, and sighed softly.

He remembered the breakfast stall at the entrance of the alley in Beijing in the early morning, with its golden and crispy fried dough sticks, piping hot soy milk, and scallion pancakes made by Aunt Liu, filling the whole place with fragrance.

“Dr. Lu, you’ve lost weight,” Old Sun suddenly said, his tone clearly worried. “Your face is noticeably thinner.”

Lu Qingyang touched his cheek and indeed felt that his jawline was more defined.

These past few days have been hectic with meetings, I haven't been eating well, and I still have to do debriefings and analyses at night, so the energy expenditure is definitely high.

Although Lao Zhao and Lao Sun were in good physical condition, they looked tired, which was obviously partly due to the fact that the Western food didn't suit their tastes.

“No…” Lu Qingyang put down his fork, the metal clinking against the porcelain plate. “Shall we make something to eat ourselves?”

Old Zhao and Old Sun looked up at the same time, their eyes lighting up.

"How do we do it?" Old Sun asked in a low voice. "You can't even find a wok here, can you?"

Lu Qingyang smiled and pointed to the street corner not far from the window: "When we were taking a walk yesterday, I noticed there was a small market over there. We should be able to buy some fresh vegetables and meat there. As for the cookware, I'll talk to the hotel manager and see if we can borrow the kitchen for a little while, just for a short time, and we'll pay a small fee."

The proposal received an immediate and enthusiastic response.

Old Zhao even made a rare joke: "Dr. Lu, you really got this done. I'll invite you when we get back."

Lu Qingyang went to find the hotel manager.

Old Zhao and Old Sun, holding paper and pen, began to seriously discuss what ingredients to buy, their demeanor even more serious than when analyzing intelligence.

"Tomatoes are a must, and scrambled eggs are the most practical."

"Buy some broad beans, and make stir-fried broad bean strips with vinegar."

"Where's the meat? Pork or beef? The beef here looks pretty good."

"Pork, braised pork! Just thinking about it makes my mouth water..."

"Then we'll need to buy soy sauce, right? Do you have Chinese soy sauce here?"

"I brought a small bottle, for emergencies, it's in my suitcase."

Lu Qingyang's side is progressing unexpectedly smoothly.

The hotel manager, a French gentleman in his fifties, smiled understandingly when Lu Qingyang explained his purpose in English: the Chinese guest really missed the taste of home and wanted to use the kitchen for a short while, and was willing to pay a reasonable fee.

“Ah, the stomach longing for home.” The manager shook his head, his expression quite sympathetic. “When I was young, I spent two years in Vietnam. After returning to France, I couldn’t eat the noodles here for a whole month. I dreamed of the aroma of pho.”

He readily agreed, but made a few requests: it had to be between 3 and 4 p.m., when the kitchen was relatively quiet; only one spare stove could be used; it had to be thoroughly cleaned after use; and a simple waiver had to be signed.

"Of course, thank you very much," Lu Qingyang said sincerely.

At 2:30 p.m., the three of them arrived at the side door of the hotel kitchen with their trophies.

The vegetables were bought at the market; they were fresh and crisp: tomatoes, green beans, green peppers, onions, and cabbage.

The meat was purchased from a seemingly reliable butcher shop; it consisted of pork belly and a piece of tenderloin.

I also bought eggs, noodles, and some basic seasonings: salt, sugar, pepper. The oil was olive oil that the hotel kitchen agreed to lend me; although it wasn't as good as rapeseed oil, it would do.

The bottle of soy sauce that Old Sun took out of his suitcase became a treasure; although there was only half left, it was enough.

He also took out a small piece of dried chili and a few star anise: "I brought these from China, just in case."

The hotel's kitchen was very nice, with shiny stainless steel countertops and various kitchen utensils hanging neatly.

The head chef was a burly man named Goh Hu. Hearing that Chinese guests were coming to make magical dishes, he curiously watched from the side and even sent a junior apprentice to help. The head chef's job was to keep an eye on them so they wouldn't set the kitchen on fire.

With limited time, the three had a clear division of labor.

Lu Qingyang was in charge of cooking, while Lao Zhao washed and chopped the vegetables, his movements so swift and efficient that the young apprentice next to him was dumbfounded.

The first dish was the simplest: scrambled eggs with tomatoes.

Heat the pan, pour in oil, and slide the beaten egg mixture into the pan. With a "sizzle," the aroma instantly fills the air.

Scramble the eggs until they are tender and fluffy, then set them aside.

Next, add the diced tomatoes and stir-fry until they release their juices. Add sugar and a little salt, and finally pour in the eggs and stir-fry quickly until evenly mixed.

The young apprentice's eyes widened, and he couldn't help but ask in heavily accented English, "Why add sugar? Tomatoes are vegetables!"

Lu Qingyang explained with a smile, "A little bit of sugar can enhance the flavor and neutralize the sourness."

Despite the language barrier, they understood roughly through gestures.

Braised pork belly is the main dish.

Cut the pork belly into chunks and blanch it in cold water to remove the blood and foam.

Add a little oil to the pan, then stir-fry the meat pieces until they turn slightly yellow and release oil.

Then add soy sauce. The moment the dark brown liquid hits the hot oil in the pot, the familiar, rich aroma of soy sauce explodes out, filling the entire back of the kitchen.

Chef Hu was tidying up the spice cabinet in the distance when he couldn't help but walk over, take a deep breath, and show a surprised expression: "What kind of spice is this? It's very complex, very... deep in flavor."

"Soy sauce is made from fermented soybeans," Lu Qingyang explained simply, his hands moving constantly as he added water, sugar, and star anise, then covered the pot and simmered it over low heat.

The third dish is stir-fried shredded bean curd with vinegar.

Old Zhao's skill was on full display at this moment; he finely and evenly chopped the beans and soaked them in water to remove the starch.

Sauté dried chili peppers in hot oil until fragrant, then quickly stir-fry the bean curd strips, drizzle with vinegar, and the aroma of sour and spicy flavors is irresistible.

Finally, I used the remaining vegetables and shredded pork tenderloin to make a simple stir-fried noodle dish.

Rinse the cooked noodles with cold water, then stir-fry them with shredded meat, shredded green peppers, and shredded cabbage, seasoning with soy sauce.

Ten minutes to four, all four dishes were finished.

The kitchen was filled with a complex and enticing aroma, completely different from the butter, cream, and spice flavors of Western cuisine.

It's a fusion of wok hei (wok aroma), soy sauce aroma, vinegar flavor, and the original flavor of the ingredients.

The young apprentice had already forgotten his work while watching, while Chef Goh stroked his chin thoughtfully: "A very interesting cooking philosophy: high temperature, fast speed, and very distinct layers of flavor."

Lu Qingyang served some dishes, divided them into several small plates, and handed them to the head chef and the apprentice: "Try them, the taste of Chinese home cooking."

The chef carefully picked up a piece of braised pork with a fork, put it in his mouth, chewed, and slightly opened his eyes.

The fatty pork is not greasy, and the lean pork is not dry. The rich soy sauce flavor is slightly sweet, and the star anise adds a subtle spice aroma.

“Incredible…” he murmured.

The young apprentice preferred scrambled eggs with tomatoes, which were sweet and sour with tender eggs, and surprisingly went well with noodles.

The three of them cleaned the stove until it was spotless, even shinier than when they arrived.

The chef was very satisfied and said they could come back if they wanted to use it again tomorrow.

Of course, the chef waved his hand and waived half of the fee: "For this delicious meal."

They carried the steaming hot dishes back to their room, closed the door, and the three of them smiled at each other.

Old Sun couldn't wait to take out the bowls and chopsticks he had borrowed from the restaurant.