Chapter 14
“People are only willing to pay for quality that they can see.”
“People are not stupid.”
Lundin held the knife and fork in his hand, stunned for what felt like centuries.
Something vaguely flashed through his mind, but it was quickly overturned by something called "self-esteem".
"What do you know?" the fat chef angrily tore off a large piece of meat. "If you want to make money, you have to cut costs! Look at every store that isn't cutting costs! Wineries don't even wash their grapes! Iron mines rely entirely on workers breathing in their exhaust gas to purify it!"
"I just used some cheaper ingredients. Shouldn't people be cheering for the affordable prices on their bills?!"
Lin Weilun leaned back in his chair leisurely, his tone relaxed, "Then why are you still sitting here? Why aren't you busying around in your tavern?"
Lundin's expression froze.
...Yes, he has already tasted the consequences of cutting costs and blindly pursuing cheap raw materials.
Just one week after the sick chicken incident, his pub had already laid off three people, and there was no sign of stopping.
Is this really what he wants?
Lin Weilun didn't care about the brainstorming of the person opposite him, nor did he intend to give others inspirational speeches.
I just ate too much and made a lot of money, so I have the time to say a few more words.
Any more and it is no longer within the scope of "kindness".
Just at this moment, the heat of the oven finally stopped.
The suckling pig leg roasted slowly at low temperature looks like a huge gold nugget unearthed, exuding an exciting aroma.
Lin Weilun stood up, put on heat-insulating gloves and took out the tray.
The aroma after baking exploded instantly, and many children could not help but stick to the wall, but were driven away by the chef who was quick to protect the children.
"These are all mine, right?" Lundin closed the doors and windows tightly during the hottest part of summer, staring at the person in front of him nervously and vigilantly, his fur standing on end like a wild cat. "I paid... I paid!"
"Yes, that's true." Lin Weilun was full. He originally wanted to send the two pork legs to the clinic, but for the sake of 100 pounds.
Mr. Ferry and Mrs. Alma probably wouldn't mind the pork legs being replaced with offal.
Then, Lin Weilun saw what "plundering" meant.
The two of them only ate half of the suckling pig's spine, and the remaining half was put into a basket, including the long iron stick.
Not to mention the tray carrying the pork leg, the greengage wine sauce, and the honeydew melon cup. If the oven wasn't so huge, I'm afraid Lundin would have taken the oven dripping with oil away with it.
Of course, kitchen garbage bags also joined the spoils.
"For the sake of 100 pounds." Lin Weilun sniffed the scent of ink emanating from the banknotes and leisurely watched the fat chef volunteer to help clean up.
He knew exactly what the fat chef was trying to do. He had often secretly rummaged through his master's trash can in the past just to piece together the hidden ingredient list.
But how could it be that simple? Finding the right amount is a lifelong challenge.
He only knew that he could move to a new house tomorrow.
The facts were just as Lin Weilun expected.
Lundin walked back to the tavern carrying the oversized basket tightly wrapped in cotton cloth.
He didn't look at the lobby, which was only frequented by flies, and went straight to the kitchen at the back.
There were no more customers in the pub. The apprentices and waiters gathered together in the warehouse to play cards, and even the dishwasher was not in the kitchen.
But this just happened to be convenient for Lundin.
Carefully take out a suckling pig leg from the basket and put it into the oven to warm it up, then divide the green plum sauce into portions, then place the remaining pork leg and pork spine on a plate, and start to savor it carefully, one bite at a time.
"It smells like garlic and chopped onion, and a little spicy. What seasoning did he use? Chili powder? Spicy soy sauce? Leek rhizomes?" Lundin scratched his sweaty head and wrote something in his notebook. "And a little bit of fruitiness... not tangerine or orange, but pear? Bosc pear or French pear? And these."
The garbage bag was opened, and Lundin picked out the hazelnut shells and rotten, unused juniper berries without any disgust.
It didn't matter that his palms were covered in dirt, his eyes lit up as he quickly recorded everything.
Just like returning to the year in Wales, Lundin scratched his head every day, using his brain all the time to remember every step and every seasoning of the chef.
Then try them one by one.
There was some pork stored in the kitchen, which was bought from the market. It did taste rotten, but it was just right for experiments.
A thin puff of smoke once again drifted over the Fox and Hounds tavern.
"Oh, and the most important thing!" Lundin dropped his pen, hurriedly got into the car, and headed straight for Lame Kun's house.
"What did you say?" Kun threw away the dry bread in his hand and almost knocked over the lentil soup on the table when he stood up with the help of the chair.
He stammered, not knowing where to put his hands. "Want to reserve all my pigs?"
"That's right!" Lundin was still thinking about the recipe for roast suckling pig, but the smell of moldy wood filled his nose, making it difficult for him to concentrate.
"Can't you fix up your house?" the fat chef couldn't help but cover his nose. "Two more rains and that beam will be eaten away by mold!"
A trace of embarrassment flashed across Lame Kun's face, and he could only smile apologetically, "I'm really sorry, but you know, our sheep business has been very bad in the past two years, otherwise I wouldn't have tried raising pigs..."
"Come, come," interrupted Lundin impatiently, "I have no time to waste here—one shilling and three pence a pound, that's the best I can offer."
"What?!" Kun's wife couldn't help but scream. This was almost the same as the retail price at the market!
Pork at the market is only 1 shilling and 7 pence!
Kun was stunned. "Are you sure?"
If they sell directly to slaughterhouses, given the current market conditions impacted by imported meat, the slaughterhouses will desperately lower the purchase price.
After deducting the costs of slaughtering and transportation, they can only sell it for 8 pence per pound at most, and there is no guarantee that a slaughterhouse will be willing to buy it.
"But I don't want big pigs. I only want unweaned pigs that are 30 to 60 days old." Lundin took out his pocket watch from his vest pocket. "If you agree to this price, you'd better start preparing now."
"But I have one request. This batch of piglets can only be sold to me, understand? I don't want your pork to appear on other people's tables. And you have to cooperate with me in promoting it."
If you want to quickly eliminate the negative impact of the sick chicken incident, the best way is to learn from Count Philip and move the kitchen to the guests' faces.
Let them see the best quality firsthand, and those damn guys will finally pay, right?
Lundin kept tapping his elbow. "How is it? Is it going to work?"
There was no agreement or disagreement, and the couple looked at each other.
Kun has been to the town several times, but no buyer is willing to buy their pork. Even if someone is interested in the breed and breeding methods, they will directly refuse because the number of piglets is too small.
But they no longer had any money left to buy new sows.
As for the local market... the price of imported pork has dropped to 6.5 pence, which is not enough to even cover the cost of feed.
Not to mention what the situation will be like in a few months.
Although the one-month-old piglets are not very big, the cost of feeding them does not need to be too high.
Lame Kun blushed and immediately limped to find paper and pen to do the calculations.
"Xiao Shuixian gave birth to five female pigs and six male pigs. Female piglets generally grow to around 36-53 pounds, and male piglets can reach 40-67 pounds... so at least we can get them..."
"Forty pounds," Lundin said, glancing at his watch again. His voice was strained—it was a large sum of money—but he tried to maintain his arrogance and composure. "At least."
The wife's eyes rolled back and she almost fainted.
Kunze tried desperately to wipe the sweat from his face.
If he raises the pigs for six months until they are ready for slaughter (about 200 kilograms), according to the current market conditions, he may only be able to get around 80 pounds, and that is if he can still sell them smoothly.
If all cannot be sold by the time being, the price will have to continue to fall.
The costs of feed, medical treatment, and health checks before market release all cost money.
"We'll sell them!" Seeing the fat chef's expression, Lame Kun nodded hurriedly, then spoke cautiously, "But... may I ask you something? You sternly rejected us before... why are you suddenly wanting to buy all the piglets now?"
"Of course I've tasted it—" Here, Lundin suddenly paused.
...Oops, he accidentally let it slip. He had no intention of dragging the young veterinarian out.
That's a golden egg! There can't be any mistakes!
So he immediately changed the subject, slamming the table impatiently, "Why are you asking so many questions? If you agree, just sign here!"
After getting the contract agreement, the fat chef left immediately, leaving Kun and his dull wife staring at each other.
The two had no idea what "already tasted" meant.
"Our little Narcissus only gave birth to eleven piglets..." his wife whispered, "They are all healthy in the pigsty. I didn't sell them secretly."
“I haven’t sold it either!”
Oh wait, Kun just finished speaking, and his not very smart brain suddenly reacted.
Little Narcissus didn’t give birth to eleven kittens, she gave birth to twelve!
Only one of them was taken away by a kind veterinarian... saying that it could not be saved...
So the question is, both of them saw confusion in each other's eyes. Didn't Mr. Lingert say that the piglet was dead?
"Could it be..." Kun tried to guess, "Lingert lied to me and actually ate the piglets?"
His wife was slow to react. "No way... Mr. Lingert is such a kind man, he would never do such a thing. Maybe Lundin dug it out and ate it himself."
Kun scratched his head. Oh my God, he didn’t even finish elementary school. Why didn’t Lundin just explain it clearly just now?
If they knew why they could sell the piglets, maybe there would be a chance to sell their unsaleable sheep as well.
"Forget it." The wife shook her head. She didn't want to think about such complicated things, so she simply went to clean up the kitchen.
Kun struggled with this for a long time, and finally decided to go ask his friend.
His friend lives not far from him, just a 30-minute walk away.
Besides, my friend's farm had some problems a while ago and has been closed for a long time. If I go now, I will definitely find him.
"Fry some broad beans for me." The lame farmer shouted towards the kitchen, and his wife reluctantly took out the storage jar and grabbed a handful of broad beans and threw them into the pot.
“Too much…” she muttered, secretly looking back, and seeing that no one was paying attention, she picked up some more, then lit a fire and dug out some lard.
When Kun arrived with the flakes covered in icing sugar, he found his friend sitting in the now-much-empty cowshed.
"Hey, Ferdie!" Kun greeted. "Have you killed all your cows with hydatid disease?"
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