When I opened the roast chicken, I was surprised to find that there was something else inside.
The potatoes had been roasted by the native woman named Sou and then mashed into mashed potatoes.
Peeling back the thick layer of mashed potatoes reveals that they have been baked to a golden brown and crispy perfection by the even heat of the stone slab.
The wild vegetables were sandwiched between the mashed potatoes; it looked like they were layered like that.
I had previously underestimated the wisdom of these indigenous women, but now I have to sincerely praise them.
This method is ingenious, as the thick layer of mashed potatoes and wild vegetables underneath also contains some moisture.
Under the intense heat of being grilled between two stone slabs, the surface of the roast chicken becomes crispy and fragrant, just like the crispy skin of a roast duck.
The chicken's belly, which is most prone to losing moisture, is sealed with mashed potatoes, which greatly helps to lock in the delicious juices of the roasted chicken.
Not only that, some of the broth from the steamed chicken will be absorbed by the crispy mashed potatoes, and the aroma of the mashed potatoes and wild vegetables will gradually permeate the roasted chicken, diluting the bloody smell.
This allows the chicken to be cooked to a very skillful degree, both in terms of heat control and internal moisture management.
Unfortunately, she lacked salt and relied solely on blood for seasoning. The hair was also removed using the most primitive method of burning, so some hair roots remained in the meat when eating it.
However, I think this is already very good. If I were in the same era as that native woman named Sou, I might not be able to beat her.
The roasted chicken made by the indigenous women was considered a delicacy by these unpicky locals. After being passed around several times, the roasted chicken was reduced to a bone.
The woman was delighted; her creations had not disappointed her. At that moment, I smiled and nodded at the indigenous woman, acknowledging her culinary skills.
The woman then left her seat and came to where I was cooking.
She gazed at the pale golden broth, inhaling the aroma wafting in the air. Though she tried her best to suppress her longing expression, the movement of her throat betrayed her.
I smiled and pointed to the food in the pot, saying to the indigenous woman, "Why don't you try my cooking?"
As I spoke, I scooped out some chicken and bamboo fungus and put them into a bamboo bowl, then added some original broth.
The woman smiled and nodded, seemingly a little embarrassed. She probably felt ashamed because of what she had just said to me; well… a little shame is understandable.
Soon, the woman's physical desire overcame her psychological shame, and she gritted her teeth, took the chicken stew with mushrooms from my hand, and ate a big bite.
With just one bite, the indigenous woman's previously unexplored taste buds felt as if they had been hit by hundreds of millions of atomic bombs.
The intense taste sensation, like the collapse of the world, reached an unprecedented spiritual peak in the woman's mouth, mind, and body at the same time.
She had never experienced this wonderful feeling before meeting me; even comparing it to the finest ingredients in the rainforest couldn't compare to even a fraction of it.
This time she actually knelt down, and I saw her crying bitterly, sobbing uncontrollably.
It wasn't because she was sad about losing, but because she had never eaten anything so delicious in all the decades since she was born.
She was expressing her gratitude to me for letting her experience such delicious food and the wonderful experience it brought.
The other natives had already eaten all of Sou's roasted chicken, leaving only the bones. They even used their tongues and teeth to carefully scrape the bones until they were smooth and lustrous like jade before reluctantly throwing them away.
At this moment, they saw that the usually proud Sou had actually knelt down before me!
Holy crap! What's going on here?
Seeing this scene was no less terrifying than being surrounded by a pack of Hydene Hounds. When it comes to men who can make someone kneel down, I'm second to none!
They had already seen that the indigenous woman was holding the dish I had made, and immediately guessed what it was.
Time paused for only a second, and the next second everyone rushed towards me like a flood bursting its banks.
The wooden forks in their hands had now transformed into formidable weapons, and suddenly my pot was surrounded by a flurry of swords and spears.
The sounds of shouts and neighing horses were incessant.
"Everyone, in order, slowly..."
Before the high priest could finish speaking, the large pot of chicken began to disappear at a visible rate.
This scene frightened the high priest so much that he rushed into the crowd and snatched a child's bowl. After a fierce battle with knives and swords, he managed to take out three pieces of chicken and a small bowl of broth from the pot.
Upon coming out, he saw a child standing on the ground, wailing loudly. He immediately realized that his behavior was inappropriate, and blushed, patting the child and saying...
"Don't cry, don't cry, Grandpa went to help you steal some chicken. You're too small to beat them, are you?" The high priest said to the child in front of him, his face flushed, words that even he himself didn't believe.
The child listened and it seemed to make sense, so he stopped crying and reached out to the high priest to ask for his bamboo bowl.
Upon hearing this request, the high priest, who was already in the wrong, blushed deeply and took a piece of chicken from the bowl, handing it to the child.
To everyone's surprise, the child was completely oblivious and shook his head, insisting on taking all his bowls back.
"Kid! Look, stars are falling from the sky!"
The highly respected high priest immediately revealed his true form, transforming into an old man who pointed behind the child with a surprised expression.
"Hmm? Where?"
Upon hearing this, the child turned his head in astonishment. In that instant, a gurgling sound was heard, so clear and resolute in the night sky.
No one knows how the high priest did it, but he swallowed the half bowl of chicken soup and three pieces of chicken as if he were on drugs.
Such skill and such boldness would make even Pigsy (Bajie) exclaim in amazement that this person is an expert.
The child turned around and saw that the bowl was empty, and was immediately stunned.
Before the child could react, the high priest, blushing, slapped the bowl into the child's hand and then quickly made his escape like a thief caught in the act.
Looking at the empty bowl, the child paused for only a second before bursting into even louder sobs.
At this moment, the child's mother also came to his side, patting the child's back while asking the child what happened.
The child, pouting and sobbing, pointed in the direction the high priest had fled, whimpering, "Grandpa... Grandpa he..."
But before she could finish speaking, she burst into even more heartbreaking sobs.
Although I didn't know what they were saying in their gibberish, I could guess the gist of it.
Watching this touching scene, I couldn't help but sigh, hands behind my back. "The world is going to the dogs. It seems that as long as the temptation is great enough, even an old immortal can turn into a scoundrel."
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