Chapter 13
Lin Weilun is very satisfied with his "start".
The meat of the suckling pig remains at its most tender stage. Because it is marinated for a long time, even the soft tissue under the tendons and skin is wrapped in just the right aroma.
Take a gentle bite, the glass-like skin is so crisp and thin that it can be easily broken by the tip of your teeth.
As the cut appears, the gravy locked by the open flame instantly splashes out and gallops into the mouth. Every inch of the tender meat below is roasted to be crispy and delicate, with just the right amount of saltiness.
It feels like being warmed from the soles of your feet to the top of your head by a steaming bonfire.
Not to mention that his seasoning skills are extremely sophisticated.
It's hard to imagine that, despite the mixture of seasonings, the inherent aroma of the suckling pig remains undimmed. On the contrary, the rich aroma that evokes the deepest desires of human beings is so overwhelming that it almost makes you want to stuff the entire iron rod into your mouth.
When the fire spreads to every part of your body, you need a sip of something sweet to dispel the heat.
The apricot, peach and papaya cup was created for this purpose.
Just like a prairie fire needs heavy rain, the boiling heat is easily dissipated by the soft coolness. The honeydew melon with jam and almond crumbs is moist and sweet, swaying softly in the mouth, refreshing and full, like a sweet rain from heaven, so refreshing that even the toes can't help but bend.
It all made the wait worthwhile.
Even the noisy shouting was far away from him.
Lin Weilun enjoyed the delicious meal leisurely and comfortably before looking up again.
Outside the window, ghost fire was already on top of the fat chef's head.
"Asshole! Didn't you hear me?!" He was furious, no different from a potato. "How can you still eat this! You damn... damn devil! Black-hearted demon!"
"I don't know why you are so anxious, Mr. Lundin." The feeling of fullness made Lin Weilun look lazy. He came to the window and looked down at the hundred pounds. He felt like a bad brothel owner who was deceiving a stupid playboy.
Although he did it on purpose.
He wondered how far a cornered chef could go.
Now, everything is clear, at least the price is satisfactory.
"Through the front door?"
The fat chef stopped talking instantly and rushed to the front door as if he had been pardoned.
Many children in the alley were staring at him warily. Old Ferry had just opened the door and glared at him unkindly, "Were you the one making the noise just now, Lundin?"
The fat chef immediately smiled apologetically. "Oh, no, no, no, there was a little misunderstanding between Mr. Lingert and me. But now everything has been cleared up, so you can be completely relieved. Look, he's waiting for me! Sorry, I'll be on my way first. Have a nice day, Mr. Ferry."
Lin Weilun leaned against the open door and waved to the old man from a distance, indicating that he was safe and thanking him for his concern.
Old Ferry could only walk back embarrassedly, isolating himself from the tsunami-like fragrance outside the door, and then looked into the eyes of the sad Alma.
"I'm afraid I won't be able to have dinner tonight."
The fire in the butler's eyes died down. "I saw the look in Lundin's eyes. It was terrifying. He wouldn't let us even touch it, like a hippopotamus protecting its cubs. But maybe we'll have a chance tomorrow morning? They can't finish it all, so it's okay if I can lick the plate."
Ferry was shocked.
"Alma!" he exclaimed. "Where is your modesty? A lady shouldn't say such things!"
"Fuck the ladies," Alma sneered. "If I could, I'd wear a spear and go into Lundin's mouth and snatch it away! I'm tired of just smelling it every day! If all else fails, I'll just ask him to move—"
She turned her head and stared at Old Ferry. After a moment, she calmed down and sighed deeply, "Sorry, I got excited."
Old Ferry opened his mouth after his wife turned around, but no words came out.
He knew what Alma wanted to say. They should invite little Willen to live in the clinic. This would save the child rent, and they would be able to enjoy delicious cooking from time to time.
But there weren't many empty rooms in the clinic, and the only one left was his son's room - the place where Bowen Ferry grew up.
The old man can’t…or shouldn’t, watch others move in.
He still had some expectations.
So happiness came only to Lundin.
The fat chef even threw away basic etiquette, not caring about the part the veterinarian had finished eating, and directly cut a piece of roasted pork loin with a serving knife and stuffed it into his mouth.
At that moment, Lundin felt like he was standing on the African savannah hit by a heat wave, his mind paralyzed by the purest and most intense smell of meat.
Just a sip and the suckling pig melts between your lips and teeth. It's a fibrous piece of meat, yet it's as tender as a cloud, and so juicy it bursts with a pinch.
The gravy that keeps splashing in your mouth is more addictive than the mermaid's silver water. Your stomach is pulled down, and then gently lifted up by the aroma that lingers in your mind.
The fat chef raised his eyes dully. "Did you...did you make this?"
The young veterinarian looked at him calmly. "And there's walnut bread from Maggie's bakery. Eating it together will give you a deeper flavor. Oh, and don't swallow your tongue."
Lundin looked up quickly, then immediately lowered it, ate two mouthfuls of bread, and then eagerly picked up a piece of suckling pig with his fork.
This time, he found a small dish of strange sauce lying nearby.
"What is this?" 100 Pounds' tone was a little vague.
"Barbecue dipping sauce." Lin Weilun made himself a glass of lemonade and added a little orange peel and lavender.
The dip is made with ground hazelnuts, walnuts, juniper berries, greengage, and orange zest, with a touch of barrel-aged cider and salt.
Most people are reluctant to drink barrel-aged cider because it has been aged in wooden barrels for a long time and its flavor is too complex, with a woody vanilla aroma.
Many gentlemen find the taste of this wine unpalatable, so wine shops often offer discounts on it.
But it is this kind of aroma that is perfect for grilled dips. It comes from the fire and ends with the woody aroma, like the soul of a suckling pig sinking into the forest.
He bought some to add some flavor to the feast.
It's just that the guy peeking out the window was too short, so he didn't notice it.
Of course, as I said before, £100 is not enough to buy the formula.
The only reason he allowed the fat chef to have a taste was because he was really short of money.
Lundin scooped a spoonful onto his plate and dipped his fork reverently, not using any meat as a medium, simply tasting this sauce he had never heard of with the tip of his tongue.
Then he buried his face deep in his palms.
“Oh….My God…”
Lundin actually cried.
At first, she was just crying silently, but then she remembered something and the noises became louder and louder, until she finally burst into tears.
"Who the hell are you... who the hell are you! Who taught you this... why... why don't I know this! Why should someone like you... why should you?! And you're a fucking veterinarian!!! No, that's not right... it's a good thing you're not a fucking chef..."
The chubby hand wiped his face randomly, as if he felt that his current behavior was extremely shameful. Lundin's movements were so rough that it seemed as if he wanted to tear his entire face apart. However, due to long-term suppression, he was completely defeated by the smell that was like being baptized by holy light.
Lundin was from Denham Township, the son of two of the millions of farmers who were not particularly successful.
Since he was a child, he was tired of shoveling manure, mixing feed, cleaning the sheep shed, and being kicked by rams. He was determined to go out and would never be a farmer again.
But there are not many jobs available to farmers' children, so Lundin started working for a chef in town at the age of 8.
He saved money for 13 years and finally saved enough to go to Wales to study.
London was not something a small town kid could dream of, so he could only hold on to his Welsh teacher tightly and not let go.
When he returned to Denham, Lundin spent all his money and opened a small restaurant with two tables.
God knows how much he put in to come up with the herb-fried chicken, his signature dish.
It was thanks to this dish that he was able to grow Fox and Hound to its current size and win the favor of the Earl.
He had devoted all his energy in cooking for the first half of his life, but now, a table full of flavors that could easily overturn the whole of England was placed in front of him.
Because he has always been a chef, Lundin understands how precious today's meal is.
He was extremely jealous.
And extremely shocking.
100 pounds? That's God's kindness.
Not to mention being able to make the taste exactly the same, even if he could only restore one-tenth of the delicacies on this table, his pub would definitely be the best in the whole of Yorkshire!
By then, Count Philip would probably have to queue up obediently! Or pay a higher price to invite him!
Wait…Lundin was stunned.
If it were Mr. Earl...how much would you be willing to pay for it?
If I remember correctly, Philip's estate will hold an autumn banquet soon, and many nobles and upper-class people will be invited.
Only a fool would think it was just a simple party.
The fat chef finally stopped crying.
In the blur, he found that the young veterinarian's face was glowing, like an angel descending.
For the first time in his life, Lundin was so grateful to God for his love.
"I haven't been given up. I still have a chance. The only chance is right in front of me, and I only spent 100 pounds." He thought so, and his eyes almost moistened again.
In order not to reveal his facial expression, Lundin buried his head in the bowl and began to ask questions indirectly.
"This suckling pork is so tender!" He said, finding the right tone. "Which stall did you buy this from? Why is the pork I always buy tougher than this? If you won't tell me the recipe, you can at least tell me where you bought the ingredients, right?"
"This is not bought." Lin Weilun's mouth was filled with the taste of lavender, quiet and elegant.
He said, "This is Lame Kun's suckling pig, but because the sow had problems giving birth, he gave the piglet to me."
"Poof!" Lundin covered his mouth with his hands before the liquid came out, his eyes wide as a cow's.
"What did you say?!" He opened his mouth in astonishment. "You, you, you mean... this is - your - customer?"
Lin Weilun idly shook the cup and asked, "So it tastes good?"
Lundin's eyes were completely wide. "This is your customer! How could you eat your customer?! Please...Mr. Lingert, how could you do such a thing?!"
In the fat chef's impression, veterinarians are all kind-hearted people. If a stray cat on the roadside has a burned tongue, they will rush over to blow it.
But what about Lingert?
Lundin could only think of himself butchering the piglet, and—
Lundin looked around and realized belatedly that the veterinarian's bloodletting technique was so superb that the blood was not splashed at all when he cut, and all the blood was collected properly in a large basin.
Perhaps because his expression was too horrified, the person opposite him actually laughed out loud.
"I took care of it for two weeks," Lin Weilun said slowly. "It's a piglet with congenital heart failure. Eating it is a sign of respect, otherwise it would be murder."
Lundin stared at him blankly, his expression like that of an innocent boy who had just climbed down from a prostitute's bed for the first time.
"Alright, for the sake of the British pound," Lin Weilun tapped the table lightly and extended a finger. "One piece of advice: Lame Kun's pork is sold several blocks away in the market, and his variety is enough to beat any imported meat. Imported meat has no advantages other than being cheap. If you still care about your tavern, it's best to abandon the low-cost source."
"People are only willing to pay for quality that they can see. People are not stupid."
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